A pale pastel sun has settled over the Somerset coast. Two voices carry through the still of the dusk, over the shrieking seagulls and the roar of the surf. “ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE, ZOMBIE-BIE-BIE,” the voices chime. Fifty yards down the beach, William O’Connor smiles and waves. Most streets, most weeks, the world’s 49th-best darts player could take an evening stroll in total anonymity. But not this street. Not this week.
Inside the vast Skyline Pavilion, with 4,000 empty seats for company, Luke Humphries is throwing practice darts. Most of his rivals are taking a well-earned break between the afternoon and evening sessions, but Humphries likes to case the joint. He wants to pace the stage, visualise the moment, feel the way the air moves and circulates, and it moves differently at every venue. And that’s why Humphries is the best in the world.
