“It’s a lonely place,” Stephen Bunting reflected as he sat quietly in Alexandra Palace on Saturday night, the tears welling in his eyes. “If things don’t go right, you can look at your family, your management, you can look at your sponsors. But it’s down to you. And yeah, I’m getting a bit emotional, but … ”
These are stories darts is less keen on telling. Ever since this sport burst out of the smoky pubs and on to our television screens, it has possessed a kind of hedonistic, hyperreal quality, a game in which normal guys slip on their superhero suits and take a shot at unimaginable riches, unimaginable fame. The crowds dress up, get the drinks in and chase the ultimate high. The winners are brought into the press conference room to be feted; the losers slip out through the back door. From its start, darts has been conceived as a vehicle for joy and transformation.
