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Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.
The young woman next to me buried her face in her hoodie while her two friends clutched each other, and their pints, with a nervous anticipation. Darts fever had gripped the UK — at least it felt that way on Wednesday night in my packed local pub, where for two hours we had been rooting for 16-year-old sensation Luke “the Nuke” Littler. That Littler was still too young to be served alcohol only added to his charm.
But it was not to be: having bottled an early lead, Littler twice missed the double seven that would have kept him in the game, clearing the way for world number one Luke Humphries to take the title of PDC World Champion.
The final attracted a UK audience of 3.7mn viewers — Sky Sports’ highest ever non-football peak audience. The media frenzy surrounding the competition’s youngest-ever finalist saw past darts viewing records — previously 1.65mn for the 2015 final — more than double. And that’s not to mention the sudden birth of a whole generation of armchair experts.
I had never watched a darts match before, but, like everyone else, found myself increasingly obsessed. Why? Because prodigies remind us of competitive sport at its best: the sheer talent of somebody excelling in their field, regardless of their background.
The misty-eyed pride, albeit of a wisecracking British variety, that swept through the country this week was reminiscent of 2021, when ecstatic crowds watched 18-year-old Emma Raducanu make tennis history as the first qualifier to win a Grand Slam singles title. Sky Brown captured hearts on her skateboard at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, having just turned 13. And last month, eight-year-old Bodhana Sivanandan thrilled the continent when she became a European chess champion.
Littler seemed to strike a chord with a nation struggling through a dreary, rain-drenched Christmas. Fans pored over the mundane details that set the teen Manchester United fan apart from more established sports celebrities. Asked about his non-darting life, he described an entirely relatable daily routine: “Just wake up, play on my Xbox, have some food, have a chuck on the board, go to bed and that’s it.”
Even his post-match sustenance earned its own acclaim. Littler shot to fame on social media after declaring his ambition for a celebratory kebab after his first-round win. Now, his local kebab joint Warrington Hot Spot has promised him free kebabs for life, while package holiday company On The Beach wrote an open letter offering him a role as chief kebab taster for luxury Turkish hotels.
But Wednesday’s final and the buzz surrounding it was not just about darts, kebabs, or even Luke the Nuke. A talented youngster is a sporting myth that never gets old. Fearless and unselfconscious, he shot for the bullseye with enviable confidence.
Unvarnished young stars show us why we love sport — because if you remove the baggage of celebrity and high earnings, there is a democracy to it. Talent coupled with dedication (Littler claims to have been throwing darts from 18 months old) can get you across the line, regardless of where you grew up or what your parents did. This truism is often obscured by oppressive management, media training and the six-figure weekly paychecks — in the Premier League at least. But seeing a young star succeed reminds us what it’s all about: that it could have been any one of us.
Perhaps one day Littler will look back with relief at the moment he missed that crucial double. Early success can be a curse, and the purity of a win can vanish overnight as sponsors and agents pounce. Raducanu has admitted to sometimes wishing she had never won the US Open.
If the thrill of that first burst of victory is impossible to sustain, then all the more reason to revel in it. Sport should be joyful. Young, raw talent is the perfect reminder of that, kebabs and all.