With a sparkle in his eye, a spring in his step and a throat lozenge in his mouth, Phil Taylor on Tuesday night won the PDC World Darts Championship for the 16th time.
The greatest player ever to hurl a dart, the Power picked up the Sid Waddell
trophy after beating the young Dutchman Michael van Gerwen by seven sets to
four. And, as the great commentator after which the huge bauble is named
would have put it, in winning Taylor proved he has tips of tungsten.
One thing is for sure, across his previous 15 titles, Taylor can have faced
few challenges as intense as the one presented here by the young Dutchman.
At one point he was 4-2 down, with Van Gerwen, the chucker who appears not
to aim, hitting a speedy succession of magnificent trebles. As the 23
year-old from Boxtel in the south of the Netherlands moved apparently
inexorably towards becoming the youngest man ever to win the crown, Taylor
was sucking on his flights, shifting uncomfortably in his over-sized shirt
and mouthing “what can you do?” to the boisterous Alexandra Palace crowd.
It was a fair question. Van Gerwen, whose square-mouthed yells of celebration
really ought to carry an 18 certificate to prevent vulnerable youngsters
suffering nightmares at the sight of it, looked unassailable. He was
out-Tayloring Taylor. As he threw nine 180s, everyone in the arena was
asking: what exactly could anyone do against such a force of darts? Not even
the Power had an answer to this.
Well, what Taylor could do was to dig deep and produce some of the finest
throwing ever seen, even in his imperious reign on the Ally Pally’s giant
red stage. At 52, three years after he appeared to have relinquished his
grip on the world title, Taylor showed absolutely no intention of falling to
the exigencies of time
Age does not appear to wither the man from the Potteries. Demonstrating
precisely what it is that has made him the most decorated player in darts
history, he clawed his way back, averaging over 103 for every three darts he
threw, chucking in five 180s, finishing with a double 16 and throughout the
final providing a masterclass in nerveless application.
The greatest player ever to hurl a dart, the Power picked up the Sid Waddell
trophy after beating the young Dutchman Michael van Gerwen by seven sets to
four. And, as the great commentator after which the huge bauble is named
would have put it, in winning Taylor proved he has tips of tungsten.
One thing is for sure, across his previous 15 titles, Taylor can have faced
few challenges as intense as the one presented here by the young Dutchman.
At one point he was 4-2 down, with Van Gerwen, the chucker who appears not
to aim, hitting a speedy succession of magnificent trebles. As the 23
year-old from Boxtel in the south of the Netherlands moved apparently
inexorably towards becoming the youngest man ever to win the crown, Taylor
was sucking on his flights, shifting uncomfortably in his over-sized shirt
and mouthing “what can you do?” to the boisterous Alexandra Palace crowd.
It was a fair question. Van Gerwen, whose square-mouthed yells of celebration
really ought to carry an 18 certificate to prevent vulnerable youngsters
suffering nightmares at the sight of it, looked unassailable. He was
out-Tayloring Taylor. As he threw nine 180s, everyone in the arena was
asking: what exactly could anyone do against such a force of darts? Not even
the Power had an answer to this.
Well, what Taylor could do was to dig deep and produce some of the finest
throwing ever seen, even in his imperious reign on the Ally Pally’s giant
red stage. At 52, three years after he appeared to have relinquished his
grip on the world title, Taylor showed absolutely no intention of falling to
the exigencies of time
Age does not appear to wither the man from the Potteries. Demonstrating
precisely what it is that has made him the most decorated player in darts
history, he clawed his way back, averaging over 103 for every three darts he
threw, chucking in five 180s, finishing with a double 16 and throughout the
final providing a masterclass in nerveless application.
And he needed to. Make no mistake, Taylor was up against it here. The Matt
Lucas lookalike Van Gerwen is already a superb competitor, a player of flair
and flamboyance, whose storm to the final had encompassed darts of a kind
rarely before delivered in this competition, even by Taylor. His near double
nine-dart finish in the semi-final had seasoned observers fearing for old
guard’s prospects here.
“He’s phenomenal that kid, I just couldn’t seem to crack him,” said Taylor afterwards, his voice threatening to crumble with emotion. “He’s one of the best players I’ve ever seen in my career. I am absolutely over the moon, I’m so proud tonight.” As Taylor swung the competition his way, slowly, relentlessly reeling in his opponent, the hugely boisterous, fancy-dressed crowd filling the Alexandra Palace chanted his name to the echo. They were all, they insisted, walking in a Taylor Wonderland. And this after many had booed him to the oche at the start, keen to express their displeasure at his graceless reaction to his semi-final win over Raymond van Barneveld. But then the darts Taylor produced here had that effect on people: there was no other response than to stand and loudly acknowledge his brilliance.
What an evening they were having in the crowd, toasting their good fortune at being present at the self-styled “hottest ticket in sport”. Indeed, it was clear that Alcohol Concern’s Dry January campaign had singularly failed to establish a foothold in Alexandra Palace on Tuesday night. Drink was everywhere in evidence; the place was awash in beer.
But then, this has always been a thirsty competition. A few years back at the final, I was queuing up at the bar behind a fan who, when his turn came, ordered 20 pints of lager. The barman, evidently not amused at the scale of the order, rolled his eyes and sighed ostentatiously.
“Sorry about that,” came back the fan, by way of excuse for his demand. “But there are four of us.”
As it turned out, however, there was little need for any outside assistance to achieve a gleeful dose of seasonal good cheer. Taylor’s exhibition was elevated enough to lift any mood. Never mind that his vocation requires nothing more physical than an occasional walk of a couple of yards to retrieve his arrows from the board, Taylor demonstrated here the kind of mental resolve that is rare in any kind of athletic pursuit. He simply refuses to countenance defeat. And as he does so, you can almost feel the waves of certainty undermining his opponent.
As he began to claw his way back into the match, first equalising the sets, then opening up a lead, Van Gerwen seemed to shrink before him. The Dutchman missed doubles, missed chances, missed doing what earlier in the evening had appeared to be second nature to him. And the more he missed, the more the wry smile played on the old champion’s lips. He knew he had him. He knew he was about to remind us all who really is the boss around here.
Afterwards, as he basked in triumph, a winner’s cheque for £200,000 in his pocket, Taylor made no mention of the threat to retire he had issued ahead of this final.
“They got me through this,” he said of the crowd.
And as he spoke, thrilled by the response to his victory, he did not look like a man keen to depart the scene at any time soon.
For which those of us lucky enough to witness his performance can be profoundly grateful. Quite simply, this was an act of true sporting genius.
“He’s phenomenal that kid, I just couldn’t seem to crack him,” said Taylor afterwards, his voice threatening to crumble with emotion. “He’s one of the best players I’ve ever seen in my career. I am absolutely over the moon, I’m so proud tonight.” As Taylor swung the competition his way, slowly, relentlessly reeling in his opponent, the hugely boisterous, fancy-dressed crowd filling the Alexandra Palace chanted his name to the echo. They were all, they insisted, walking in a Taylor Wonderland. And this after many had booed him to the oche at the start, keen to express their displeasure at his graceless reaction to his semi-final win over Raymond van Barneveld. But then the darts Taylor produced here had that effect on people: there was no other response than to stand and loudly acknowledge his brilliance.
What an evening they were having in the crowd, toasting their good fortune at being present at the self-styled “hottest ticket in sport”. Indeed, it was clear that Alcohol Concern’s Dry January campaign had singularly failed to establish a foothold in Alexandra Palace on Tuesday night. Drink was everywhere in evidence; the place was awash in beer.
But then, this has always been a thirsty competition. A few years back at the final, I was queuing up at the bar behind a fan who, when his turn came, ordered 20 pints of lager. The barman, evidently not amused at the scale of the order, rolled his eyes and sighed ostentatiously.
“Sorry about that,” came back the fan, by way of excuse for his demand. “But there are four of us.”
As it turned out, however, there was little need for any outside assistance to achieve a gleeful dose of seasonal good cheer. Taylor’s exhibition was elevated enough to lift any mood. Never mind that his vocation requires nothing more physical than an occasional walk of a couple of yards to retrieve his arrows from the board, Taylor demonstrated here the kind of mental resolve that is rare in any kind of athletic pursuit. He simply refuses to countenance defeat. And as he does so, you can almost feel the waves of certainty undermining his opponent.
As he began to claw his way back into the match, first equalising the sets, then opening up a lead, Van Gerwen seemed to shrink before him. The Dutchman missed doubles, missed chances, missed doing what earlier in the evening had appeared to be second nature to him. And the more he missed, the more the wry smile played on the old champion’s lips. He knew he had him. He knew he was about to remind us all who really is the boss around here.
Afterwards, as he basked in triumph, a winner’s cheque for £200,000 in his pocket, Taylor made no mention of the threat to retire he had issued ahead of this final.
“They got me through this,” he said of the crowd.
And as he spoke, thrilled by the response to his victory, he did not look like a man keen to depart the scene at any time soon.
For which those of us lucky enough to witness his performance can be profoundly grateful. Quite simply, this was an act of true sporting genius.
