In the glittering world of professional darts, few names evoke the thunderous applause and sheer dominance quite like Phil “The Power” Taylor. At 65 years old, the man who redefined precision and prowess on the oche—securing an astonishing 16 world championships over three decades—has stepped away from the competitive spotlight. Yet, retirement hasn’t dulled his edge; if anything, it’s sharpened his focus on a new battlefield: his own body. Taylor, the unyielding force who once terrorized opponents with his unerring accuracy, has uncovered a revelation from his past that’s reshaping his present in the most unexpected way. It’s not a dusty trophy or a forgotten match—it’s the discovery of his “Mongolian blood,” a genetic twist that’s forced him to bid farewell to one of life’s simplest pleasures: a steaming plate of chips.
Taylor’s journey to this peculiar epiphany began not in the heat of a tournament, but in the quiet aftermath of his final throws. Last year, a hip surgery sidelined him temporarily, prompting a deeper dive into his health regimen. Drawing inspiration from fellow athletes, the darts legend turned to blood tests—not just to fine-tune his recovery, but to tailor his nutrition to his very biology. What emerged was a story straight out of a history book crossed with a medical mystery. “So my blood group is a funny blood group, mine comes from Mongolia,” Taylor revealed with his trademark candor, a mix of bemusement and intrigue lighting up his voice. He traces it back to the sweeping conquests of the 13th century, when Genghis Khan’s hordes thundered across Eurasia, leaving an indelible mark on the bloodlines of distant lands. “It must have been when the Mongolians took over the world, so I’ve got their blood group,” he mused, painting a vivid picture of ancestral warriors whose legacy now whispers through his veins.
This heritage, Taylor explains, isn’t just a footnote in his family tree—it’s a dietary dictator. For years, the Stoke-on-Trent native had indulged in the hearty comforts of British fare: crispy chips doused in vinegar, golden potatoes roasted to perfection, slabs of fresh bread slathered in butter. But those blood tests laid bare a harsh truth. “So if I eat rice, in Chinese food, I get no stomach problems at all. But if I eat chips or potatoes, bread, it kills my stomach, gives me heartburn,” he shared, his words carrying the weight of reluctant surrender. What once fueled late-night post-match celebrations now triggers a fiery rebellion in his gut, turning simple meals into regrettable experiments. It’s a far cry from the glory days when Taylor could power through a grueling schedule, his energy as relentless as his 180s. Now, in the calm of retirement, he’s learned that even legends must adapt—or face the consequences.
But Taylor being Taylor, this isn’t a tale of defeat; it’s one of reinvention. The man who once commanded arenas packed with roaring fans has channeled that same discipline into a vibrant new lifestyle, blending fitness, flavor, and a dash of wanderlust. Post-surgery, his surgeon’s advice rang clear: keep those legs strong. Enter cycling—a low-impact powerhouse that’s become his daily ritual. “I’m trying to keep fit a bit more now. I’m cycling a lot,” he says, crediting the rolling hills around his hometown for rebuilding not just his mobility, but his zest for life. Teaming up with old pal Bobbie Goulding, a former rugby star turned fitness motivator, Taylor has incorporated weight training into the mix. Their sessions aren’t about bulking up for the oche anymore; they’re about sustaining the powerhouse physique that carried him through 30 years of dominance.
At home, Taylor has transformed a corner of his space into a personal wellness sanctuary. Picture this: a state-of-the-art home gym equipped with weights, cardio machines, and—because recovery is king—a soothing sauna where he unwinds after a sweat-soaked session. It’s a far evolution from the protein shakes and quick bites that sustained him during tournament marathons, when days blurred from dawn practice to midnight victories. Back then, he’d grab whatever was handy—often burgers and chips—to keep the engine running. “In the past I’ve grabbed a fast food snack of burgers and chips—a recipe to pile on the weight,” he once reflected on those high-stakes tours. No more. Now, his evenings revolve around meticulously crafted plates that honor his Mongolian-rooted tolerances.
Take his go-to dinner, for instance: a symphony of sourdough bread (in moderation, of course), creamy avocado drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, ripe tomatoes bursting with freshness, a perfectly poached egg, and a generous sprinkle of cheese. “Normally for my dinner, I’ll have sour bread, avocado, a bit of olive oil, a bit of balsamic, tomatoes or poached egg, a bit of cheese. I’m addicted to it, I love it,” Taylor enthuses, his enthusiasm infectious. This isn’t just sustenance; it’s a ritual, born from a recent jaunt to Spain’s sun-kissed Marbella coast. There, a local landlord introduced him to “pil pil”—succulent prawns sizzling in garlic and chili oil, served in traditional tapas dishes. Hooked instantly, Taylor returned home with the cookware in tow, recreating the dish with flair. “I was in Spain last week, Marbella area, and one of the landlords says, ‘Phil, try this dish we’re famous for it, it’s called pil pil.’ Have you had it? It’s prawns. I’ve even bought the dishes now, the tapas dishes,” he recounts, his eyes likely twinkling at the memory.
This pivot to Mediterranean-inspired eats aligns seamlessly with his blood type revelations. Rice-heavy Chinese takeaways? A green light, no digestive drama in sight. But venturing into potato territory remains a no-go zone, a boundary he’s learned to respect after too many nights curled up with indigestion. It’s a reminder that even icons like Taylor, whose career boasts over 200 major titles and a net worth built on endorsements from everything to CBD gummies to darts gear, aren’t invincible. His foray into promoting wellness products alongside ex-boxer Anthony Fowler underscores this shift—he’s not just talking health; he’s living it.
And while the oche calls less urgently these days, Taylor’s competitive fire simmers. He still eyes the occasional exhibition, cheekily predicting victory over darts’ new prodigy, 18-year-old sensation Luke Littler. “I think it would be a close game—but I think I’d win,” he quips, the old Power surging through. Yet, beyond the banter, there’s a profound lesson in his story: age is no barrier to transformation. At 65, with a hip rebuilt and a heritage unearthed, Taylor is pedaling forward—literally and figuratively—proving that true power lies in adaptation.
In Mongolia’s vast steppes, where nomadic horsemen once forged an empire, diets leaned heavily on meats and dairy, with grains playing a supporting role. Taylor’s experience echoes that ancient pragmatism, tailored to a modern palate. His pillow hack for hotel stays—insisting on fresh ones to avoid the “sweat smell” of unwashed linens—reveals the meticulous side that’s always defined him. “Another thing as well, if you ever go in a hotel, this will spoil you now. They wash the linen, they wash the sheets, they wash the duvets, they wash the pillow cushions, they never wash the pillow. So just take the lid off and smell the pillow. All you smell is people’s sweat! So I take my own pillow,” he advises, a practical gem from a life on the road.
Phil Taylor’s saga is more than a quirky health footnote; it’s a testament to resilience. From the boy in Stoke who picked up darts to escape factory drudgery, to the global icon now savoring prawn pil pil and conquering cardio, he’s always thrown with precision—now, at life itself. As he cycles into this next chapter, one thing’s clear: The Power isn’t fading; it’s evolving, one rice bowl at a time. Who knew that ditching chips could feel like hitting a nine-darter?
Leave a Reply