Yahoo News Darts is the best sport on TV and Luke Littler vs Rob Cross proves it
We have little control over the sports which speak to us. One of rugby, cricket or football probably diverts your attention when you see it taking place in a park, another might be significantly less engaging than whichever podcast you are listening to.
Darts on television looks and sounds preposterous at first. But find its wavelength and it will have its claws into you within five minutes. At its best, no other televised sport can touch it.
Clearly we are in one of those moments, with provisionally driving licenced genius Luke Littler giving this year’s World Darts Championship a rare narrative thrust, the sort which puts fringe sports onto front pages. His semi-final victory over Rob Cross hit all of the high notes that have become familiar as this tournament has grown in repute over the past decade. There was psychological intrigue, sporting panache, quick arithmetic and frequent sight of a rapt section of the audience dressed as Oompa Loompas.
Among the many superlatives used to describe Littler, there was a simple joy at his brilliance, bleeding through every moment of the commentary from Wayne Mardle. No repeat of his “I can’t spake!” meltdown from last year’s final on Tuesday evening, but that was because Littler’s progress was weirdly serene. “What a ledge,” said Mardle towards the conclusion. Sometimes there is eloquence in such simplicity.
If his unusual turn of phrase wears a bit thin by the time we reach the best of 11 semi finals, the pairing of Dan Dawson and John Part for the second semis was a tonic. They bring a steady seriousness and allow the viewer to relax into the propulsive rhythm of the game and its TV treatment.
For such a still and sweatless sport the camera shot changes remarkably regularly, roughly once every two seconds. The familiar split screen showing throw and board, board’s eye view as first player collects the darts, back to split screen, sweeping shot of the crowd, back to split screen, two treble 20s, then the quick zoom in for the third dart, transmitting the excitement of the moment with its endearing shakiness. It is hypnotic.
Poor old Luke Humphries, the brightest young star in darts for about two weeks before Littler became a Google Trend. His semi against Scott Williams was a walkover so attention inevitably turned towards the crowd which gets rowdier with every passing set. A lot of early fallers in the Dry January stakes at Alexandra Palace.
Close-up shots of fans are doled out quickly and cut away from at speed, if you linger there is no telling which hand gestures might be demonstrated, which rude word shouted, which body part exposed. But there is no sport like this where the crowd feels as much of a reason to watch as the action.
Who is that, just off the shoulder of Humphries, who seems to be getting a telling off from a security guard? Why do all these people like Kolo and Yaya Toure so much? Whatever can that man dressed as a green pea pod mean with his sign reading “On it at the darts”?
It is utterly infectious when a crowd with a keen sense of ridiculousness is going berserk, or booing players when they fail to keep nine-dart finishes alive. No sport seemed hollower when put behind closed doors during the pandemic.
What you also get on TV is the subtlety. Cross attempted to gee himself up early against Littler by vamping at the camera off to the left-hand side of the oche, as much as a former electrician from near Maidstone can vamp. There are a multitude of minor variations of take-back actions in each players’ throws, each one a reason to like or dislike each player more. The super slo-mo replays show gorgeous spins and arcs.
Darts on TV falls down when it becomes more conventional. As you would expect, Littler is not yet as world-beating an interviewee as he is a dartist. His post-game chat peaked with the revelation that for breakfast before the final he would be eating a ham and cheese omelette.
But again here we have an example of what makes this unmissable TV either side of Christmas. Darts is inherently compelling because it is so fundamentally stupid. Tiny missiles aimed at tiny numbered sections by everyone from Fallon Sherrock, who looks like she might enjoy a three-day throwback emo festival to the wantonly mohawked Peter Wright, who looks like he could be roadying for one of its bands.
Immense skill is required, but the nature of the sport means it can never deny its absurdity. In other words, it is fun. A wonderful antidote to most other sports as they slide ever-further towards over-officious joylessness.
