In the electrifying atmosphere of Dortmund’s Westfalenhallen at the 2025 European Championship, James Wade, the unflappable “Machine,” delivered a performance that silenced the darts world. The 42-year-old veteran dismantled teenage sensation Luke Littler 10-7 in a gripping second-round clash, marching into the quarter-finals with a composed 97.75 average. It was Wade’s first televised triumph over the reigning world champion, a feat that etched another chapter in his legendary 25-year career. But amid the cheers and flashing lights, Wade’s post-match words transcended the oche, laying bare a father’s raw vulnerability and a profound shift in the soul of darts’ stoic icon.
The match itself was a masterclass in resilience. Littler, the 18-year-old prodigy whose meteoric rise has redefined the sport, stormed back multiple times, his blistering pace threatening to overwhelm. Yet Wade, with his trademark robotic precision—28 scores over 100, a clinical 45.5% checkout rate, and a ice-cool 121 finish—dug deep. “Yeah, you know, it was tricky,” Wade admitted afterward, his voice steady but eyes distant. “I let him in a multitude of times. So, you know, I’m just happy to win.” He recalled a heartbreaking near-miss at the World Matchplay, where he stood 14-all and missed three darts at double. “I register those things,” he said. “But I do things like this now just to say to my son… we all have our little differences, but we can do it.”
That son—seven-year-old Arthur—is the beating heart of Wade’s story. As the crowd roared, Wade turned his victory into a lifeline for his boy. “Arthur—we can do it,” he declared, his words cutting through the arena like a perfectly aimed treble 20. “I told you, Arthur—we can do it. Me and you, mate, we’ll do it. We’ll just keep doing what we do because we’re Wades and Wades are winners at times.” Arthur, Wade revealed, is grappling with profound challenges. Recently diagnosed with “a lot of problems,” the young boy has inherited traits from his father that make everyday life a battleground. Wade himself was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD at 27, conditions he’s openly championed as an ambassador for Bipolar UK. “When Arthur was first born, I thought he’d evade my amazing gift—but unfortunately, he’s inherited it all,” Wade shared, his tone a mix of sorrow and fierce pride.
The weight of it all hit Wade like a sudden leg change. “I’ve got a son that’s struggling a hell of a lot, but we’re doing all right. We’re doing just fine,” he insisted. Yet beneath the optimism lay a father’s anguish: **”Recently, when my child was diagnosed with a lot of problems—who do you turn to? I didn’t know who to turn to, I still don’t.”** In a world of spotlights and sponsorships, Wade felt adrift, pleading for guidance. He pinned hopes on the Professional Darts Corporation—”I believe the PDC will help me, because they’re amazing people”—and partners like Modus, who’ve pledged support. His plea? To pioneer awareness for families where mental health hurdles pass silently from parent to child. “I’d like to think that my biggest challenge now is to help people like myself who understand children’s problems because they’ve inherited them from their parents,” he vowed. “I want to try and be an ambassador for something new—something that doesn’t even exist yet.”
This revelation marks a seismic evolution in “The Machine.” Long the picture of mechanical dominance—four World Championship semi-finals, multiple majors like the World Matchplay and UK Open, the first to vanquish every PDC world champion on TV—Wade has chased glory for a quarter-century. But no longer. “It’s not about money, it’s not about rewards. I’ve done the money course, and I’ve done the rewards course,” he declared. “At the moment, it’s about proving to my son that people who are quirky—we can do this stuff.” In the last one or two months, a fresh fire ignites him—not rankings or riches, but fatherly proof. Relaxed, calm, no hype: “I’m driven by something new… Yeah, I’m enjoying things—and **my son is my biggest hero.**”
Wade’s candor ripples beyond Dortmund. In a sport exploding with youth like Littler, where averages soar and crowds swell, he stands as a bridge—veteran grit meeting modern vulnerability. Arthur, “magical” despite his battles, watches on, inspired. “My seven-year-old son will watch this, and it’s really magical, and it’s really important to me,” Wade said. “Arthur, Daddy does it, and you can do it.”
As Wade eyes the quarter-finals, his gaze fixes not on the trophy, but home. In vulnerability, he’s found unbreakable strength—a machine reborn, not for the machine, but for the miracle called Arthur. **”I told you, Arthur—we can do it.”
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