Bullseyes and Beer: When Darts Hit Britain Timeshift

"It's 1980!"

A new decade had dawned.

Margaret Thatcher was only a few months into her new job

and it wasn't going well.

The Surveyor of the Queen's Pictures had just been exposed

as a Russian spy.

And people were stripping off on the country's first nudist beach.

But on a cold Saturday night in February,

the eyes of Britain were focused

on a small cabaret club in Stoke-on-Trent...

..where two young lions were about to take the game of darts

out of the bar-room and into the ballroom.

CHANTING

The crowd were fantastic, you know. "Bristow, Bobby George..."

CHANTING: Bristow, Bobby George, Bristow, Bobby George...

"Bristow, Bobby George, Eric Bristow, Bobby George..."

Well, that never happened in darts.

It's like having a ringside seat at the Coliseum.

It changed darts. The viewing figures went up.

People at home realised there was a lot of skill in darts

and there was good dart players.

But they knew there was characters there.

A traditional working-class pub game had become a national obsession...

Eric Bristow!

..appealing to both genders...

I love to beat any man, anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

..and crossing the class divide.

# Let's have a jolly old game of darts

# Bing! Let's have a jolly old game of darts

# Bing! #

On its tiny scale, it is elemental,

with a thrilling milieu. It's really sort of tiddlywinks in a bear pit.

Double 14.

-Yes!

-And it was television, that for two decades

launched darts into our living rooms,

elevating its larger than life players into legends

and turning its commentators into household names.

I'm going to enjoy this. I think you will too.

This is the story of those years,

the pivotal games, the people and players

who transformed a pub pastime into a sporting spectacle like no other.

Darts has always had a reputation as the people's game.

It's a working man's game. It's a poor man's game.

Used to play with their jacket on,

not because they was cold in the pub,

they just couldn't afford anyone nicking their coat.

But as the 1970s dawned, this poor man's pursuit

was beginning to take on a different image.

Here in the pubs and clubs of the Rhondda Valley,

there was talk of a darting prodigy

who was single-handedly changing the face of the game.

This eager, restless crowd, has paid 50 pence a head

to fill this cinema hall in South Wales to capacity,

but they're not here to see a film, nor are they here for bingo.

They've paid, quite simply, to see this man.

He's Alan Evans,

and in the villages and towns of the Rhondda,

Alan is little short of a god,

and this is why.

Alan Evans would say what he was going to do,

and he did it.

I saw him play an exhibition, or a challenge match

and he said, "I'm going to hit 12 180s tonight."

He said, "And if I do, you all put money into these collection jars."

He said, "And if I don't get 12, I'll put £50 in,"

which was a lot of money then.

180!

He hit 12 180s before the last leg.

And soon, the legend of Evans The Arrow

would spread far and wide beyond the Valleys.

Evans was following in a rich tradition

of Darts Exhibition players like Londoner Joe Hitchcock,

who in the post-war years had held crowds with his skill and dexterity,

and not only with darts.

It's a tribute to Joe's wizardry that there's no shortage

of volunteers to help him demonstrate his skill.

And if Hitchcock's sideshow trickery seemed

a cheapening of the proud art of darts,

then it was actually much closer to the game's origins

than you might think.

The origin of the modern game of darts is traditionally lost

in the mist of alehouse smoke,

but what happened in the mid-Victorian period was that

fairground showmen brought across to Britain a traditional French game

called Flechettes.

The implements you would use were these little items,

imported from France in great numbers, just made of wood

with turkey feather flights and a point.

So these would have been used in fairgrounds

for a period of between 80 and 90 years.

I also remember when I was a child in the '50s, going to the fairground

and playing with these and they were always known as French darts.

In Joe Hitchcock's day, the highlight of each darts season

was The News Of The World Individual Championship,

which had started modestly in 1927, but by the early 1970s

was drawing in half a million entrants.

The one to win, in them days, was definitely The News Of The World.

Best of three, 501 from 8ft.

On a wooden board, an elm board,

which were slightly smaller,

the trebles and the doubles on elm boards.

And it's a lovely feeling to play

in front of thousands and thousands of people

and play darts to your ability.

In April 1972, London Weekend Television's World Of Sport

took the bold decision to cover the grand finals

of The News Of The World Championship from Alexandra Palace -

the first time a major darts tournament

had ever been fully televised in this country.

For the amateur dart thrower, this is Valhalla.

And it was that five foot two Welshman from the Rhondda,

Alan Evans, in a dragon red sweatshirt and Cuban heels,

who stole the show when he blitzed the reigning champion Dennis Filkins

in front of 12,000 devoted fans

supping cans of ale and brandishing leeks.

With a record seven million people tuning in to watch his exploits

on World Of Sport, Evans The Arrow now became

the first hero of dart's television age.

And in what was becoming an era of Welsh sporting brilliance...

..Alan Evans turned full professional

and was soon joined at the top

by his friend and fellow countryman Leighton Rees.

The guys that influenced me on the actual dartboard itself

first of all, was Alan Evans and Leighton Rees,

Leighton had the best style

but Evans had the fiery will and if he was playing today -

sadly, he's gone now -

but if he was playing today, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.

What Evans showed to both his fellow players

and to darts fans was that darts was more than just a pub pastime.

It was an aspirational career.

I get well paid for my exhibitions

so I can really allow to pay a driver every week.

I like a few pints and so sometimes I have over the few.

And then you've always got the breathalyser coming into it.

So some people might think it's just a show but it's not really.

I always class darts like boxing.

Like, erm, normal people have got a chance to box and earn money

and get out of the ghetto where they come from or the bad area they live.

Darts is exactly the same.

Bristow was the cocky young hustler from North London who'd taken up

arrows instead of a life of crime,

and believed he could conquer the world.

From the outset, he had a steely resolve to win.

What I loved about the darts is, it's me against you

and I'm better than you, and that's the end of it.

You think you're better than me,

but I'm going to prove that you're not.

He'd been bred for darting glory.

Me dad put a dartboard in me bedroom when I was 11.

The dartboard just intrigued me.

Different numbers, the different ways to go,

I used to play for hours and hours and hours.

And then me finger stuck out, and then me dad said at 14,

14 and a half, I was, he said, "You're ready."

Obviously he was going to take me down the pub.

He said, "I don't want you playing like that down the pub,

"Sticking your finger out!"

He was a bit worried about his son having his little finger out.

Me mum quite liked it, like drinking a cup of tea.

There's thousands of people all over the world still doing it now,

with their fingers out thinking it's going to make them any better.

HE LAUGHS It ain't! You got to be gifted, son.

And his gift was put to good use down the local.

We used to play for sixpence a game, a tanner a game.

I played me dad first, then somebody chalked it, then I play him

and while that was going on, people were coming in the pub,

put an E up, a B up and a C up, a long list of names.

And then I played from 12 until quarter past two

and I never lost a game, and had a pocket full of tanners.

Tanners were good,

but tenners were better,

and wannabe professionals began to roam the country,

taking on all-comers for high stakes in super-league tournaments,

Holiday Camp competitions and after-hours money racers.

This pub in Walthamstow we used to meet up, there was Eric,

meself, there was all the top dart players.

And we used to have money racers afterwards.

And the money racer you put the guy up who you thought was good

and play a game 3001. You know, I used to love it. It was a buzz.

Me and me Dad just went around.

When we got there, this bloke says to me,

"Do you want to play this guy for a grand?"

I said, "We haven't got a grand." He said, "We'll put the money up."

They said if you beat him we'll give you five hundred quid.

Fair enough. Well, they had two grand side bets on it.

Even professionals like Alan Evans and Leighton Rees

wanted a piece of the action.

My introduction to the big league, if you like,

was playing Leighton Rees at Maerdy Workman's Hall.

As much as £4,000 we're playing for. Not our money, the punters money.

They would make two queues and they'd put money on me

and if the book was full-on me,

they'd jump over and have a bet on the other side.

That's how it all started.

All this might suggest arrowslingers wandering from pub to pub

in a lawless world of darts,

but these shootouts were taking place

in the most regulated period the game had ever seen.

And this was down to the British Darts Organisation,

a new governing body set up in January 1973

at the London home of businessman Olly Croft.

I had ambitions of doing what we were aiming to do.

We had two years of meetings in this room

with delegates from these different counties.

We started off with ten counties, then the following year we had 20,

then 31, then 43,

right up until we finished up with 69 counties throughout Great Britain.

Another man who shared Olly's vision of a big future for the game,

and had marvelled at Alan Evans' darting prowess

on World Of Sport the previous year,

was a young documentary producer from Yorkshire Television.

His name was Sid Waddell, and what he witnessed that day

convinced him that televised darts was the coming thing.

Looking to build on World Of Sport's success,

Waddell reported back to his bosses at Yorkshire Television,

and together they cooked up a tribute to the unsung heroes

and heroines of the tap room - a pub Olympics.

Now then, today the grand prix of the Indoor League - men's darts.

I watched the Indoor League when I was 16.

I used to play with my mate Eddie Rayson in the pub,

and it come on at one o'clock in the afternoon.

I said, "Bloody hell, darts on TV."

So this is Evans, a great little player.

He wants double top, and I must keep my big mouth shut.

CHEERING

And the people that were coming on TV, I'd beat for money,

most of them, and some of them wouldn't play me again,

so...how the hell do I get on there?

He soon got his chance.

180!

I always remember being on it and this one year they put up

£180 for every 180 scored

and Eric Bristow and myself were pretty good friends

and we said, we think we'll share that.

And they hadn't got enough money to pay us!

I think Eric hit about 15, I'm not quite sure.

I contributed, but not as many as Eric.

The Indoor League may have come across as a sweaty celebration

of all things male, but it also showcased the ladies game.

If you think all a woman should throw is spuds into a sink,

then just keep your eyes peeled on these two.

150 quid on the end of this when they get to the final.

The first major televised darts competition for ladies.

-And really these girls...

-65!

..have shown an awful lot of skill and expertise.

When it came on the television, that was really something else.

We were all glued to the TV to watch the ladies darts,

and, of course, you think "Ooh, yes, I could do that."

Maureen Flowers was to blaze a trail for ladies darts

during the late '70s, captaining the first England Ladies team

and also giving the men a run for their money.

I could hold my own with a good man player

and to actually beat the professionals was wonderful,

absolutely wonderful. I love to beat any man anyway.

She beat loads of them.

She was that good, she used to beat all these top players.

Abroad and that.

All the men respected her. You didn't want to play Maureen.

And whilst the ladies game was getting off the ground,

the men's game was positively soaring,

attracting sponsors and a steady stream of new tournaments

offering cars and big cash prizes.

Televised darts still posed the eternal question -

was this a sport or a spectacle?

But in 1977, one BBC Sport producer realised that all it needed

was the proper treatment.

The snooker had started to take off, and the controller, Aubrey Singer,

said to me, almost as a joke, "You haven't go another sport

"like that, have you, you think could do well?"

And I said, "Yes, the darts."

So he looked at me because darts to him was here you go in the pub.

And saw I was serious, and he said, "If you're serious,

"I'll give it a go."

So I said I was, so he did.

And I rang Olly Croft up and said,

"Have you got a world championship?"

And he said no, and I said,

"Well, you have now, because BBC TWO will cover it."

And we worked on it from there.

The first Embassy World Darts Championship kicked off

on the 6th of February 1978

from the Heart of The Midlands nightclub in Nottingham.

The winner stood to net £3,000.

Cameras now took viewers far closer to the action than ever before,

but for all the skill on show, filming it posed tricky problems.

Darts is probably the hardest sport to film. It's fast.

Quick.

If you drop in concentration at all, you're down amongst the dead men.

You're going to miss out shots and doubles.

It takes a lot of concentration.

And certain player's styles proved hard to capture.

Double 18. Yes, he's got it!

You got Ceri Morgan, he looks like he's throwing hand grenades at you.

I mean, the style was unbelievable.

He beat me in the British Professional Final

and I'm going like, ton, he's going 26, I go ton...

I thought, he's easy. He got a 180 like that.

You know. He used to put you off. He only done me.

Nick Hunter, directing the live feed in the scanner truck,

felt that a vital ingredient was missing,

and was determined to show the players' faces.

Darts was being covered largely with too many close-ups of the board,

while the player, out of shot, was throwing the dart.

I could see why that was happening, because if you cover one shot

for a throw, one shot for the board, one shot for a...

It's sort of six shots every time a player throws his three darts.

If they're fast... You know, the viewer at home's watching shots,

and after two days of it I thought, "This is no good."

But apart from my finger which was almost worn down to the quick,

because I was just cutting backwards and forwards,

and I was wondering how on Earth I could stop this cutting.

There were viewer's complaining.

You know in your bones it's not working very well.

So we had a bit of a meeting and in the end a cameraman

said, "Well, why don't you split the screen?"

So, dare one say it?

He ought to be favourite cos he gets the first throw.

And on the split screen, you can see the face,

you can see the board and it made all the difference.

It made it easier to cover,

and better to cover at the same time, which is quite rare.

100!

You could watch a player start to lose it.

60.

Or the opposite, if you like.

You could watch a player gradually realising he's getting in control

of the match and that's a precious part of that split screen.

And as well as transforming the look of televised darts,

Nick Hunter was also to unleash a new and unorthodox commentator

on an unsuspecting public.

None other than the producer of The Indoor League, Sid Waddell.

His enthusiasm and his knowledge of the game shone through,

and I gave him a go.

Left himself a double.

Waddell was an enigma. A Northumbrian miner's son

who'd won a scholarship to Cambridge

and brought his Geordie exuberance to his commentary,

which was full of puns and pumped-up scene setting.

There was less noise when Pompeii was swamped in lava!

His legendary one-liners would endear him

to darts fans and players alike...

He dug deep into it.

He didn't just come along and commentate, he felt for you.

..earning him the soubriquet The Voice Of Darts.

The atmosphere - a cross between the Munich beer festival

and the Coliseum when the Christians were on the menu.

Sid needed a bit of controlling really.

He'd come out with the odd remark which would shiver me timbers

and I'd have to go out and have a world with him.

And we had a battle or two.

Erm...I think we were both right really.

He wanted to lighten it up and do it his way

and I didn't want him charging around like a bull in a china shop.

With 2.7 million people tuning in to see Leighton Rees

beat John Lowe in the final, split screen darts

and Sid Waddell's colourful Geordie lip had proved a hit combo.

Double tops to take the world champion prize.

CHEERING

And in the week following the match,

high street sports shops sold out of darts equipment.

The following year saw Lowe and Rees reach the final again,

but this time it was Lowe who triumphed.

Savouring the moment. Double ten.

CHEERING

The grin of the champion.

The new champion being congratulated by the old.

To win the Embassy was quite phenomenal to be quite honest.

Ray Reardon, the snooker player, was world champion

and he presented me with the trophy,

and it was the biggest part of my career,

it set me off on a run that's never really stopped.

If Rees and Lowe swapping trophies

made it seem like the Embassy Championship was a two-horse race,

then the third year's dream final would give us two new contenders,

now sporting catchy stage names.

The Bobby Dazzler was riding high

after winning the News Of The World Championship.

I won that one. That made me.

Diana Dors give me the trophy, bless her.

And she loved a pint of lager that girl. She'd drink a pint of lager.

And his opponent, The Crafty Cockney, was still smarting

from his run-in with arch rival Alan Evans the previous year.

Well, the thing is, Eric, you're so easy to beat.

You had no problem with me at all, Alan.

It's easy. When we play you, we know there's no danger from you at all.

The showdown at Jollees Cabaret Club

would be just the ticket for the telly.

Well, I'd advise you to sit on the edge of your seat

because I'm sitting on the edge of mine as the gladiators come out.

And don't blink, don't even blink,

because I think these two will go off like guided missiles.

You could see the difference between the two world finals before

and then all of a sudden you had the two gobs in the final.

I wore the glittery shirts which I took from the ice skaters,

because I thought it would make the game more...theatrical

and people would watch it.

Welcome back to the stage, Bobby George!

The other contender in this final's Eric Bristow!

BOOING

We got the audience more involved.

I was sort of the good-looking one,

and Eric was the ugly one.

And he was mouthy and all that, but that's the way he was.

If he didn't mouth off, he couldn't play

Four-three up and one-nil.

Gee-up when you hit the double, he started all that.

We always used to wind each other up all the time, know what I mean.

He had B and a G there and I said, Big Girl.

I said, put another B on the back, Big Girl's Blouse.

BOOING

They was booing Eric at one time, really bad,

and I said, "No, come on."

If I'd known what he was going to turn out

I should have been, "Come on, more!" But there you are...

But for all the posturing and posing

there was still a game of darts to be played.

Double 18. Fantastic!

Double 14.

Yes!

The first half was my half, and I should have kept that up.

It was a close game all the way through.

It wasn't one-sided.

Yes, Bristow - 2, Bobby George - nil.

In a seven set.

He's going some now, is Bristow.

180!

After two hours, the match was delicately poised.

Bobby needed a leg to tie the match,

Eric needed it for the Championship.

If that man in red gets this set, he's the new champion.

Game on, ladies and gentlemen, please.

It was a good game, most of the sets went to 3-2.

He played well, we both knew each other for a long time.

I mean, I used to play pairs with him when I was 16,

so it wasn't as if we didn't know each other's game inside out.

-45.

-This is George's chance.

-60.

-Not enough, I don't think.

He's come down for that treble 19. Just missed.

Bobby's got a chance. There's the three-dart shot.

He's got the 60. Treble 15?

-Lovely shot.

-123.

Treble 16, left me two nines.

18 means double nine on this set to level it up. Four-four.

Can I have some order, please?

So he got his shot, big nine, proper nine,

and then he went for single one.

So in me mind I said, "Whatever you do, don't hit the 20."

And awkward one. One.

Bang, straight in the middle.

That says it all.

He's behind me, must have laughed his head off.

He's got double top left, ain't he? To win the match.

Instead of thinking about the next set, bang, I'm in there.

This is my chance. All this running through your head.

Now you've got a chance before you've expected it, take it.

You might only get one shot at this in your whole life.

The Crafty Cockney, Eric Bristow, rated number one in the world.

Some order, ladies and gentlemen, please.

Needs a single double to become world champion.

I thought that's it, I put the darts away.

He ain't going to miss it.

It's my own fault. I've given it to him now.

I hit the 20 first dart, I thought,

"Bloody hell, don't go to the last dart!"

Eric Bristow from Stoke Newington

becomes the 1980 Embassy Professional Champion of the World.

Yeah, all them years and years of practice,

just worth it, in one hit.

Best double ten I ever hit.

More than eight million had tuned in to watch the unfolding drama.

The TV close-up had come into its own

and the game was on the crest of a wave,

but it wasn't the first time the country had gone darts mad.

# Anywhere from Mayfair to a pub down Wigan Way

# When folks get together you will always here them say,

# Let's have a jolly old game of darts

# Bing!

# Let's have a jolly old game of darts

# Bing!

# First you get a double, then right off you go

# But you needn't trouble if you don't know how to throw... #

In the late 1930s, with the game already the lifeblood

of the British Pub, darts had witnessed

a short but spectacular craze

amongst the middle and upper classes.

It peaked in December 1937 when the King and Queen paid a visit

to Slough Trading Estate where they took in a darts demonstration.

The Queen asked if she could have a go

and stepped regally onto the oche.

She scored a total of...

21.

The King felt confident...

Single seven, single three,

single nine.

He announced his wife the winner, whereupon she smiled

and declared darts "a very sporty game."

This royal endorsement seemed to suggest that darts was for everyone.

It became a cosmopolitan fad with soirees of darts and dancing,

and even darts saloons where you'd be given instruction

and have your arrows retrieved by a darting attendant.

Increased mobility meant that some of the bright young things

were able to travel out to countryside pubs.

They would invade the public bar

and play the locals at a game of darts and find it "fascinating."

# Put a little gladness in your heart

# Yesterday at tea, Crosby said to me,

# Let's have a jolly old game of darts. Bing! #

And 50 years on, this jolly old game still seemed to be

a bit of amusing working-class whimsy to the upper echelons.

Someone who's been pushed around most of the papers today

is Prince Edward. He's really got front page treatment, hasn't he?

For allegedly interrupting a darts match in a pub in Cambridge.

Yes, there was the poor chap in with five friends in a pub

and clearly they interrupted a very serious, er, darts match,

and we all know how important those events are...

Thank you for mentioning darts.

Jonathan Miller here wants to say something about darts.

Don't ask me what.

What do you want to say about darts?

I have no remark to make about darts as such, it doesn't interest me,

but what fascinates me is the presentation of darts on television,

that split screen that you get, which reveals something

very fascinating about human behaviour. Have you noticed that,

when the act of concentration is at its highest, there are

very strange and irrelevant movements of the mouth and face,

which are absolutely characteristic of each person.

45.

The TV cameras had now put the darts players' lifestyle under close scrutiny.

Television can make or break you, really...especially the close-ups.

And all the pints and pot-bellied polyester

were easy pickings for a new wave of comedy talent.

Game on.

COMMENTATOR (IMITATING SID WADDELL): So, it's Fat Belly to go first.

And it's a good start.

LAUGHTER

Double vodka.

Single pint.

They done that sketch just after the final in 1980 and me and Eric,

Eric was like a hat-pin, with a dart, quite thin, and I had

a really good physique, so there was no fat on me and there was

no fat on Eric, but because Leighton Rees was so chubby and Jocky,

they picked that, that's the sort of image that they tried to give it.

They took the piss out of the game,

but I think it backfired on them, personally. I thought

it wasn't humorous and it was wrong, because we were not all like that.

It wasn't just the sketch shows that irritated the leading players.

Leighton Rees is well on the way to another record. That's his fifth pint already!

The TV took the mickey out of us,

they didn't really look after us, then.

You used to have bad shots on TV of somebody having a pint, closing in on it.

Really, they didn't have a lot of respect for us, looking back on it. Well, we knew that, then.

They made no secret of what they were doing in between throwing darts

or at the end of a leg,

so, I mean, you could see it happening. You don't avoid the shot.

You avoid the close-ups, perhaps, but you can't pretend it's not happening.

The image that TV projected of these outsized characters,

together with the brash spectacle of the game, was a great stimulus

to one of the decade's leading novelists.

I'd watched a great deal of it on TV.

We're talking about an era - perhaps, early '80s -

where it was a very mercurial

atmosphere at these events, where Eric Bristow,

who was the biggest, sort of, rabble-rouser of them all,

marvellously, sort of, arrogant.

Double eight, for the set.

Game shot and the fourth set to Eric Bristow!

If the crowd was having a go at him, he would stand waiting to throw,

and he would detach his underpants from his bum crack,

basically, in a vivid and energetic gesture, which was showing what

he thought of the audience and then, the temperature would go up again.

Once you've seen Eric, you didn't forget him, did you?

He was that kind of person, and they'd be booing him

and he'd go, "Come on, I can't hear you" and they'd go crazy.

He just loved it, he loved people having a go at him.

Maureen and Eric were now an item.

The King of Arrows had met his Queen of Darts.

It was like Burton and Taylor going out, you know.

They were the stars of the time.

Top darts stars had become, not just household names,

but light-entertainment celebrities.

I want him to put his head next to the dartboard

and I want to throw six darts...

We could have a game. We could play for a bit of stakes, you know?

That would be handy, yeah. How much do you want to lose?

They even made it on to Top Of The Pops.

Yes, that's darter Jocky Wilson beaming out from a screen,

as Dexy's Midnight Runners belt out their homage

to soul singer JACKIE Wilson!

The tension showing on Jocky's face...

Jocky had won the 1982 Embassy World Championship in some style.

One dart could give him the world championship - double 16.

Yes! Game shot and match!

SID WADDELL: They'll be singing, they'll be Highland flinging

all over Scotland for this lad. Didn't he go well?

By the following year, it seemed a dead cert

that either Wilson, Bristow or Lowe -

the top three-ranked players in the world

would take the title, but 1983 would take everyone by surprise.

In my opinion, the greatest game I've ever seen,

without a shadow of a doubt - Eric Bristow and Keith Deller.

It was magic. Absolute magic.

Deller was a 23-year-old unseeded qualifier,

and the first qualifier ever to reach a final.

He beat Nicky Varachkul, he beat Jocky Wilson,

he beat Lowey, John Lowe.

So, he's beat the top guys in the world

and he's playing Bristow in the final.

Don't get me wrong, beating John and Jocky was great,

but Eric was the main man and if you're going to beat

anybody at that time, you wanted to beat Eric in the final.

I just knew, my heart was pounding.

COMPERE: The 1983 World Professional Championship.

First set, first leg. Keith Deller to throw first.

CHEERING

Game on.

The joint is jumping and the scene is set.

Bullseye.

Yeah! So that's the first set to Keith Deller.

Eric, the Crafty Cockney, he thought he was on a winner.

Tops for Deller.

Game! That's the second set to Keith Deller.

The Deller rampage.

What a dart player!

And, as the game went on, his head was going down a little,

"What's happening here?"

Thankfully, I was 2-1 up at the break,

and I thought, then, "I'm 2-1 up now and Eric's got two hours now

"to think he's not going to get it all his own way."

Yes! 180!

Game!

The salute.

I thought I got him,

because he had seven darts at a double to beat me earlier on.

64 to be champion of the world.

The 64 that I missed, I could feel my lip,

my hand was starting to shake a little bit.

Double 16, for the title.

CROWD: Ooh!

When he's got three darts in his hand, he's thinking,

"I can win this now, I can win this now."

93. Double 9 for the world title.

Double 4 for the title.

CROWD: Aw!

The two on double 2 were right on the wire.

For the title, double 2.

CROWD CHEERS

And the one went across the other side of the wire,

and I thought, "Jesus, that was a great chance."

Everybody's getting the jitters now.

Yes! That's the ninth set, to Eric Bristow!

And then, Eric went "Aargh", like that, laughing,

just to get in my head a little bit and then, the next set,

I didn't even see it. I lost 3-0, cos I was still annoyed.

Tops...goes in!

Doing a Mick Jagger on the stage!

And then, I lost the first leg with my darts in the deciding set

and I just said to myself, "Right, you've done so well, just give it a go."

Keith requires, 68.

Double 16 for Deller. Yes!

At two legs to one in the final set,

Deller needed one more leg to become champion.

He decided to play the board and not the man.

He wins this leg, he becomes world champion.

123!

And then, I made a bit of a boo-boo.

He's got to get this leg, Bristow.

Bullseye.

Played the percentage shot.

He wanted 138 and, I thought, "Well, he bottled it earlier on

with three darts in his hand twice." I thought,

"138 is like bang, bang, bang - all over the place."

If you wanted 136 - 60 60, double 8, I would have went for the bull,

but 138 is like there, there and there,

So, I thought, "I'll hit a big 18, leave 32, because I won't miss 32."

He must be brain dead from the neck up.

The youngster that he's playing against, Deller,

is on the shot to win the championship.

Eric says, "Oh, I'll go and throw an 18,

"leave 32, because that's my favourite double."

Well, you're in the championship and you've got 50 left

and a dart in your hand, you don't take that chance.

The shot's on for the title...

Double 12 for the title...

CROWD CHEERS

Keith Deller of Ipswich, 23-year-old!

Deller did the business. He's now the world champion!

And he went out on 138, when Bristow had, more or less,

told everybody that he didn't have a chance.

And he went and did it. Amazing!

But you see, terrific, isn't it? Isn't that a great bit of sport?

Viewers would be back for more the following year,

wouldn't they, after that?

With over nine million television viewers,

darts was a ratings sensation and Deller got a whiff of the big time.

He took off on a victory tour of the country, with his manager,

who believed that his young star had limitless marketing potential.

He could advertise anything from Johnson's Baby Powder

to cocaine, we're talking about that kind of range! All over.

Clothes, sports equipment, food, soft drinks, breweries, anything.

And the trappings of fame brought him a new legion of followers.

Darts groupies are a new phenomenon in a sport where a man's prowess

has usually been measured by the girth of his beer belly.

Although it's probably heresy, Keith doesn't seem to mind

the attention he's getting from women fans.

I just hope Keith doesn't get big and fat,

because you're so lovely and I've watched them over the years, getting

bigger, these guys who play darts. I'll keep an eye on you, I think.

One darts fan who had been keenly watching Deller's rise

was Martin Amis.

It's the drastic elevation into darts superstardom

that made him come alive for me.

He says, I can handle it. Publicity, fame - I can handle it.

Amis was already drafting his new novel, London Fields, which was

to explore the "delirium of darts" as he put it,

and in preparation, he hung out with Deller, half expecting him

to be sozzled in some roadhouse, smothered in tattoos and darts mags.

I met Martin in Enfield, it was in a wine bar, my wife Kim

and I, and we walked in, he said, "What would

"you like to drink?" I said, "Can I have a sparkling water, please?"

He had a pint, or half a lager and, in them days,

you could smoke in the restaurants and he had a roll-up

and he said, "I can't work this one out - there's you, slim, drinking

"mineral water, there's me with a fag. it's the wrong way round here."

Amis was to incorporate Keith's name and fame into his story

of a young qualifier's rise to darting stardom, but his character,

Keith Talent, owed as much to the author's own experience of the game.

'A casual darter, or arrowman, all his life, right back to the

'bald board on the kitchen door, Keith had recently got serious.

'He'd always thrown for his pub, of course, and followed the sport,

'you could almost hear angels singing when, on those special nights,

'three or four times a week, Keith laid out the cigarettes on the arm of the couch

'and prepared to watch darts on television.

'But now he had designs on the other side of the screen.'

And it was television,

which had elevated the game and remained its lifeline,

that now became the architect of its downfall.

LWT had already dropped World of Sport and by 1988, Director of Programmes, Greg Dyke,

decided to pull out of darts altogether, citing dwindling audience figures.

The onus was now on BBC Two and its new controller, Alan Yentob.

I would like him to assure the darts public that they're not

being marked down as unfashionable.

I have a schedule to fill and I have to accommodate the other

interests, as well, so all I'd say to you is, be grateful I'm not

Greg Dyke. I will do my best.

And don't imagine that I'm not

interested in the broader responsibilities of running

a channel and not simply putting on what I want.

A drop in TV coverage would mean a drop in prize money

and far less exposure,

but for Eric Bristow, there were more serious worries.

He had been diagnosed with a debilitating condition called dartitis.

Dartitis is when you go up there to throw a dart

and you pull it back like that and instead of going like that,

you go like that and you lock. It locks and you give it all this.

I used to count how long it took for him to let his darts go,

how many seconds it actually took to actually

let his darts go.

It was strange. It was a shame.

Usually, the problem has been letting it go.

If you watch it there and you watch it years ago,

it was a lot more fluent.

Well, with the magic of our VT department, we can do that.

You haven't seen it yet, but this is you in 1985 on the left and today on the right,

and just watch how quickly you release this first arrow.

We've timed it, we think you're about a second and a half slower.

There, it's gone, the first time, in 1985.

Is there a doubt, something crops

-into the back of your mind?

-There's no doubt, all I want to do

is let the bloody thing go and it's stuck in me hand. What can you do?

I saw shrinks. You try anything. I tried fly fishing,

because that's an arm sport. It's in the grey matter, mate.

Trying to be perfect, too perfect. I should have just let it

go as it was. It was going nicely, you know. You wanted to be better

than what you are.

Maureen came up with a plan to help Eric combat his condition.

I said we should try and sponsor someone who was local,

so as he could practice with him

and, hopefully, then, it would get Eric back to how he was.

Maureen's idea. I started practising

and practising with people in the pub and I played four hours

in the afternoon and four hours at night, to try and get rid of it.

And there was one local lad who fancied his chances

at Eric and Maureen's pub, The Crafty Cockney.

Me and Yvonne went up the Crafty Cockney,

I said, "Let's see what it's like, because we'd never been in."

Maureen and Eric were doing an exhibition on stage

against all-comers and we just watched them.

I remember saying to Yvonne, "I could beat them",

and that's how we started.

Phil said, "I'll play with you," so he turned up in the afternoon -

four hours, night, four hours - he was there every day.

Maureen liked that, because it was getting me into darts again,

because she knew what I was going through.

It gave him a new lease of life. He was loving it.

It was like a hobby for him.

But the hobby became a business venture.

In Taylor, Bristow recognised a hunger for success

and an iron will to win and he decided to take Taylor on

as his protege, sponsoring him for £9,000.

The condition with Eric was that I paid him back.

So, he would walk in a room,

even now, if I was sitting down in a room and he walked in,

I'd get up and start practising, because he would tell me off.

He'd say, "What are you doing sitting down and talking to them?"

"They're not your friends," he'd say, "You owe me 6,000..." He knew every penny,

"£6,245.50 and you're sitting down talking? Get on that practise board."

I said, "I'm going to...pay him back, I am."

He'd ring me up, "I've done really well in this tournament, but got beat in the final."

I said, "Ring me up when you've won," and I'd put the phone down.

I'd say, "I lost in the final," "Ring me when you win, then." Bang.

That's the way I was. Don't tell me you've come runner-up. It's no good.

Anyway, it toughened him up.

It had been ten years since Bristow's reign began

and, even hampered by dartitis, he was still at the top of the game,

but there was now a new pretender waiting in the wings.

Eric had rang me and said,

"You've qualified for the World Championships,

"and you're last place to get in." I think I was 32nd to get in.

Taylor coasted through the early rounds,

before crushing big Cliff Lazarenko 5-0 in the semifinal.

I remember coming off stage after beating Cliff,

going into the toilets, crying me eyes out, Eric come in,

shut the door, come in, he's crying, we're both crying in the toilet,

got the door locked and I said, "Did I win?" He said, "Yeah."

I said, "What are we crying for, then?"

He went, "I don't know," and he won't admit it,

but it's true, the big softie. We'd drawn each other in the final.

He's learnt me, he's taught me, he's sponsored me.

-Taught him too much.

-That might be the danger. Can the pupil beat the master?

I'm looking forward to it. It's been his little dream, Eric's dream, as well

-as mine, but tomorrow, I hope it's his nightmare!

-It won't be.

But I did have that little thing in the back of my mind, thinking,

"Right you, all those phone calls, all that time you told me

"I owed you money, I'm going to get you now."

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, the 1990 Embassy Final.

First set, first leg.

The unique Bristow stance, like a praying mantis.

100!

This is a slack, slack opening leg by Phil.

Double 10, for first blood.

CROWD CHEERS

That's the first game.

Phil, you require 170.

The shot's on, he wants another 60.

He wants the bull for the set.

Brilliant!

Double 18.

Give him a sniff, he'll take a mile.

Taylor is trying to save set two.

140!

Double 16.

One set each!

The final, cooking up well.

For two sets, Bristow remained in the hunt, but then Taylor unleashed

his now legendary power.

180!

He wants tops for the set.

180!

Picks his times, Taylor.

Giving Eric pain.

Phil Taylor!

Bristow's won this trophy five times.

What must be going on in Eric's brain here?

Double 16.

-32.

-That's been the story of this match.

CROWD CHEERS

Double top for the title.

Double 10.

Ooh! Pressure is there.

Had his chance.

Double 16.

He turned round, he said, "You should've took your chance,

you're not champion yet."

Eric wouldn't give in. He hit a 180 and then he mumbled something at me.

He'll fight.

180!

Yes, still smiling.

"Have that, you little shit", or something like that.

He would, that was Eric.

He would try every trick in the book to try and get at you.

But back comes Taylor.

Oh, yes. He turns round to the crowd.

But that's Phil and that's the sign of a good player,

to hit a 180 after someone has hit one.

They think they're getting away with a leg

and he's just saying, "You haven't gone anywhere, I'm still here."

18s for Bristow.

Double 16.

And then, he swings the pressure, with him throwing three darts,

you're a bit wary again.

He's missed. The story of the match.

Phil requires 49.

Will it be 17 or 9? We'll see.

Double top. Yes, for the title.

Double 10.

It's there!

He jumps up, he shakes hands with Bristow.

Bristow, the champion in the '80s.

Phil Taylor, the champion in the '90s.

He was absolutely brilliant. He came onto that stage,

he took it over and, to be quite honest with you,

what he's done for the sport, no-one else can do.

He's just fantastic.

And it needed that, it was at the time when it was needed.

Yeah, darts was on a decline, then.

It took me maybe six or seven times being world champion to make

a name for myself.

Taylor's rise had taken place against a backdrop of mounting

unrest in the game.

For the top players, dismayed by the drop off in TV coverage

and prize money and less exposure,

it was the British Darts Organisation who were to blame.

We had a meeting with the BDO and they sent me in as a spokesman

for the darts players, and I said to Olly, "We've got three questions."

"First of all," I said, "can you guarantee us

"more than one tournament a year on TV?"

He said, "No."

Second one, "Would you mind if we run our own tournaments?"

Sky wanted to come in and we had contacts to run a tournament,

and he said, "Yes", and then my last question was, "OK, if we did

"run our own tournament, what would happen?"

And he said, "We'll ban you."

So, I said, "thank you very much." That was the end of the meeting.

If ITV and BBC were dropping it, there was nothing

I could do except settle back and these things don't happen overnight.

You've got to plan it and work through it,

but they weren't prepared to wait on that one.

I couldn't guarantee anything.

I can't guarantee them TV, unless the TV guaranteed it to us.

And that was it, it was like a stand-off.

In our eyes, they weren't trying.

You've got to set the right people on.

Olly Croft had had it great, don't get me wrong,

but he wasn't the right man, then.

We needed professional people to go out there and try and find it.

The banned players - 16 rebels - struck out.

And in 1992, formed a breakaway organisation, eventually called

the Professional Darts Corporation.

Since then, these two bodies, the BDO and the PDC,

have co-existed, mounting their own rival world championships.

Sky Sports, with its shiny, glossy graphics

and slick American-style coverage, would resurrect darts on TV,

giving the breakaway PDC the platform it needed.

It was great. It was like a breath of fresh air, with the music

and the flashing lights, and the models walking on with us,

the bouncers round you, the crowd were right there, all slapping you,

we got jostled about a bit. It was great, it was like a new beginning.

With darts back on the small screen, it's now coming to the big screen,

in an adaptation of London Fields, by Martin Amis.

And for one of the film's A-listers, the author had some special advice.

There was talk of Johnny Depp playing Keith Talent's deadly enemy

and I told one of the producers to have him hang out

with Bobby George and use his actor's intuition

and that he didn't need to meet any other player.

Bobby George would do it.

More than any of them, he has that, kind of, carny glamour

and one gathers that he has lived the darts lifestyle to the full.

So, I met this other actor, and he's Johnny Depp!

I said, "It's Christmas every day for me." He said, "You what?"

I said, "Every day is Christmas Day."

He said, "What a lovely saying,"

"Christmas Day is every day for me. Can I use that?"

I said, "Use what?"

"That Christmas Day is every day for me", I said, "Yeah,"

and he had to say... This bloke interviewed him, said, "Are you going to win?"

"Win? Of course I'm going to win, it's Christmas every day for me."

I taught him to swear in Cockney, as well.

And as Hollywood delves into the smoky world of pubs, money races

and competition darts, the game's most famous player is back

on the road, taking on all-comers and still throwing good arrows.

MUSIC: Rabbit by Chas & Dave

# You got a beautiful chin

# You got beautiful skin

# You've got a beautiful face

# You've got taste

# You've got beautiful eyes

# You've got beautiful thighs... #

I love darts, it's in my blood, mate. Been great to me.

If I died ten years ago, it was great to me.

I'm on bonus time.

# You won't stop talkin'

# Why don't you give it a rest?

# You got more rabbit than Sainsbury's

# It's time you got it off your chest

# Now you is just the kind of girl to break my heart in two

# I knew right off when I first clapped my eyes on you

# But how was I to know you'd bend my earholes too

# With your incessant talkin'

# You're becoming a pest

# Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit

# Rabbit, rabbit, yap-yap, rabbit

# Yap-yap, rabbit, rabbit, bunny, jabber

# Rabbit, rabbit, jabber, yap-yap

# Yap-yap, rabbit, rabbit, bunny jabber, rabbit. #

May the darts be with you.