The Morningside Arena in Leicester thrummed with the electric hum of anticipation, a cauldron of cheers and chants where dreams are nailed to the board with surgical precision. It was the quarter-finals of the 2025 BetVictor World Grand Prix, darts’ double-in crucible with a £600,000 prize pot dangling like a tantalizing treble-20. Stephen Bunting, the 40-year-old Scouser known as “The Bullet,” strode to the stage with the quiet fire that has defined his improbable resurgence. World No. 4, fresh off a 2025 campaign that could fill a trophy room—titles at the Bahrain Darts Masters, Nordic Darts Masters, International Darts Open, and Swiss Darts Trophy—he was no stranger to glory. Yet on this crisp October night, the oche became a battlefield not just against Dutch dynamo Danny Noppert, but against an invisible foe gnawing at his core: a back injury so vicious it turned every throw into a gamble with agony.
Bunting’s match against Noppert was a gritty affair, a best-of-five sets slugfest that showcased the sport’s unyielding demand for resilience. He started strong, snatching the first set 3-1 with a blistering 105.23 average, his arrows finding the doubles like heat-seeking missiles. But as the legs wore on, the pain etched lines on his face, visible even to the rowdy crowd waving St. George’s flags. “Back so sore. Couldn’t force my darts up,” Bunting later confessed on X, his words a raw dispatch from the front lines. He tried stretching between visits, but it only twisted the knife deeper. “Tried stretching and just made it worse. How I won so many legs I don’t know. The crowd knew I was in pain.” Noppert, the towering Giant with a penchant for wire-to-wire dominance, sensed the shift and pounced, clawing back sets with ruthless efficiency—3-2, 3-1—to seal a 3-1 victory. In the post-match presser, Noppert tipped his cap: “Yeah, I started well at the doubles. I was better than in the first game, so I was really happy with it. The tops worked today, and that saved me a lot.” Bunting, gracious in defeat, managed a nod: “Well done to Danny, you played well.” But beneath the sportsmanship simmered a deeper hurt, one that no ice pack or physio could mend.
As the arena lights dimmed and fans spilled into the Leicester night, Bunting retreated to the digital trenches, where the real barbs awaited. Social media, that double-edged sword of modern fame, erupted not with the adulation he deserved for battling through the blaze, but with a torrent of vitriol that would curdle the stomach of even the hardiest pro. Screenshots flooded his feeds: one troll, hiding behind anonymity, spat, “Just die motherf****,” a gut-punch of malice that reduced a warrior’s effort to a death wish. Another sneered, “f***ng fat clown,” dredging up body-shaming barbs that hark back to darts’ uglier stereotypes. These weren’t isolated jabs; they were the venomous underbelly of a sport ballooning in popularity, where Littler’s teenaged wizardry draws millions, but the shadows harbor keyboard assassins ready to eviscerate anyone who falters. Bunting, who has risen from BDO world champion in 2014—toppling a field of grizzled vets at Lakeside with flair and a cheeky grin—to PDC mainstay, knows the highs: six major TV semi-finals, a 2024 Masters crown over Michael van Gerwen that sent fans “Bunting Mental,” and a 2025 haul that vaulted him to No. 4. But the lows? They’ve been a gauntlet of scrutiny, from Premier League heartbreaks to whispers of form dips.
Rather than retreat, Bunting fired back with the precision of a 180, posting the screenshots on Facebook for all to witness. “Losing doesn’t deserve this much abuse very sad to see,” he wrote, his tone a measured thunderclap—disappointment laced with defiance. It was a direct rebuke to the troll who had escalated the pile-on, a public unmasking that stripped the cowardice bare. “Pity the social media full of negativity,” he added on X, turning personal pain into a broader lament. The response was swift and heartening: darts luminaries rallied like a phalanx. Luke Humphries, the reigning world champ, tweeted solidarity: “This is bang out of order, Steve. You’re a class act, keep grafting.” Gary Anderson, the Flying Scotsman known for his no-nonsense candor, chimed in: “Disgraceful. These keyboard warriors wouldn’t last five minutes on stage.” Even Littler, the 18-year-old phenom who’s shared the oche with Bunting in Premier League bloodbaths, offered props: “Gutted for you, Bullet. Head up—your darts are lethal.” Fans flooded his mentions with positivity, one Scottish supporter declaring, “Stephen, just thought I would let you know you’re playing fantastic darts, and your averages are truly amazing. You keep focused, and those averages will turn into victories.” Another: “The real fans know the grind. Ignore the noise; you’re a legend.”
Bunting’s stand resonated beyond the board, igniting a chorus on the toxicity plaguing fan interactions in darts’ golden era. Viewership has skyrocketed—Ally Pally’s 2025 Worlds drew 3.3 million for the final—fueled by Littler’s supernova and a new wave of accessibility via Sky Sports and PDC TV. But with the spotlight comes the sludge: booing in Germany that’s driven Littler to vow skips, heckles at Premier League nights, and now this online cesspool. Bunting, a family man from Fazakerley with two young sons, Tobias and Theo, has weathered it before. Back in March, after an eighth straight Premier League loss to Littler—a 6-3 drubbing that left him winless and leg-difference at -28—he faced similar barbs. “Currently languishing at the bottom,” the headlines crowed, ignoring his Bahrain triumph and Worlds semi run. Yet he bounced back, assuring fans: “I’m in high spirits despite the nightmare.” This time, the abuse cut deeper, amplified by his visible struggle—the winces, the labored throws that the live crowd applauded with empathy, not derision.
In the quiet aftermath, Bunting peeled back the layers on what fuels him through the fog. “I’ve had dark patches, no doubt—switching from BDO to PDC, injuries, the lot,” he shared in a follow-up post, his Liverpool lilt implicit in the straightforward prose. “But it’s the roar of the good ones, the kids chanting ‘Bullet’ in St. Helens pubs, that keeps the fire lit.” His 2025 has been a masterclass in momentum: runner-up at Dutch Darts Masters, a nine-darter in the Nordic final that had the Scandinavians on their feet. Ahead looms the World Cup in Frankfurt—where he eyes partnering Humphries if Littler’s boycott holds—and the December Worlds at Alexandra Palace, where a deep run could silence doubters for good. “One extra day off, that’s all I needed,” he reflected wryly, hinting at the relentless tour grind. Organizers, too, are listening; PDC chiefs have ramped up anti-abuse protocols, partnering with platforms for swift troll bans, a nod to the mental toll that’s felled careers before.
Bunting’s response isn’t just a clapback; it’s a beacon for the under-siege. In a sport where every checkout is a conquest over self-doubt, his vulnerability humanizes the heroes. The trolls may lurk, but as “The Bullet” reloads for the next salvo—perhaps a Players Championship in Hildesheim this weekend—the message rings clear: abuse doesn’t define defeat; resilience does. As the darts world hurtles toward its festive climax, Bunting stands taller, arrow nocked, ready to pierce the darkness. In the end, it’s not the misses that echo—it’s the fight that follows.
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