A GLANCE AT the event schedules for some of the country’s largest arenas is a sure fire way of gauging the tastes of the nation. It is a concise summary of just what makes the punter part with their hard earned cash to perch uncomfortably, with their heroes just a hazy mirage on the horizon, in arse breaking seats. There are grand-gesturing comedians (Michael Mcintyre), mass popularity talent shows (Strictly Come Dancing), and renowned divas (Whitney Houston). And then there is darts.
One of Britain’s most simple and popular pub games and 20,000 capacity arenas seem on the surface to be a rather uncomfortable fit. Not only because the wisdom of parting with in excess of £30 to squint at something little over two feet in size, seems a little questionable, but also because an arena environment seems to quash what made darts popular in the first place.
Yet there has always been an element of the spectacle about darts, firstly it inherently lacks the professionalism often expected of those who make a living from sport. Yet that is because it is a show, an exhibition, in which the action is not necessarily the key component of the viewing experience.
Bobby George is one of the more notable names to have taken to the Oche, yet
he does not have a world championship title to his name. His popularity is
rooted in his showmanship – ‘I felt the game needed a bit of sparkle and
razzmatazz. So I wore a medallion’. Whilst wacky celebrations or outlandish
hairstyles may make a footballer a cult hero, it is ultimately his ability
that defines his popularity. This is where Darts differs and continues to
swell its fan-base, because it is not merely a sport, it is a show and a
spectacle in the same way that it’s arena filling compatriots are.
As such darts is remarkably different in character to any other sport.
Firstly, to state that darts players are not subject to the same physical
requirements as other top sportsman, may seem like a case of stating the
bleeding obvious. However the extent that alcohol consumption plays a role
in the game is somewhat surprising. The protruding guts of professionals are
evidence in themselves of prolific drinking in between matches. Yet Sid
Waddell depicts a game in which boozing and even outright drunkenness are an
integral part, ‘Even Phil Taylor has two or three pints before going on. Or
maybe a couple of double vodkas’. Having paid extortionate amounts to watch
dart’s events, do supporters not deserve to see the very best competitors at
their peak?
Then again standing alone in front of thousands of people, with only three
glorified pins for company, may warrant a pre-match tipple. A mid game drink
is also apparently commonplace in the game, according to Waddell, ‘There are
drinks marshals who give the players a drink in the break’. Whilst darts’
rule book states that ‘No alcoholic drink shall be consumed or introduced
into public areas during televised match play’, it seems that during
commercial breaks, off the stage, alcohol consumption is perfectly allowed.
In any other sport these would be rather shocking revelations. With darts
this is not really the case, neither does it really matter, for darts is a
sport that exists primarily to entertain the viewing public. Some of
Waddell’s tales of on stage inebriation could entertain the most hardened of
critics – ‘Jockie Wilson played a match drunk, a semi final in 1985. Shook
his opponents hand and then fell into a drum kit’. This to me is where darts
widespread and long standing appeal lies. Yet perversely the down to earth,
no nonsense, intimacy that established darts popularity is under threat by
its new found status as an arena phenomenon.
According to Bobby George ‘There are positives and negatives when you have
large audiences. Just like there are in football’. These negatives however
seem to multiply as darts grows in popularity. My revealing conversation
with cult commentator Sid Waddell consists primarily of a series of
enthralling anecdotes that portray a sport that thrives on the way it
relates to the audience. ‘In no other sport would you get the world’s 8 best
players going at it in a nightclub’- and he has a point, the proximity of
the audience to the action and the essential part they play in the spectacle
of a live darts match is what maintains the popularity of such a seemingly
unfashionable pub game.
Darts’ growing popularity has lead to the usual lucrative television
contracts and promotions deals. Darts however is a game blighted by a 20
year rift, described by Bobby George as ‘a bad divorce that has been dragged
through the courts’. The game is split into two governing bodies; the PDC,
boasting Phil Taylor and Raymond Van Barneveld, and the BDO of which Bobby
George remains the face. Whilst the PDC dishes out millions of pounds in
prize money week on week the BDO represents ‘County darts marketed as
international darts’ according to Waddell.
In reality it is a split that epitomises the conundrum darts faces- how to balance its romantic working class roots with money spinning popularity. Waddell puts it down to ‘A North-South divide. Bunch of cockneys getting one over on the Northern lads who were at the top of the game’. These ‘cockney’ heads of the BDO controlled international darts before this acrimonious fall out and the forming of the PDC, a debacle that grew out of the tension between those that ‘Just wanted MBE’s and trips to South Africa’, and the entertainers who play the game for a living.
The tension represents the uneasy place in which darts continues to sit on
the British sporting landscape. It has achieved mass popularity as a direct
result of the intimacy that allows fans direct, personal access to the
world’s top players. Yet that very quality is in danger of being destroyed
as the sport becomes an arena mainstay.