In the electric atmosphere of Berlin’s Uber Arena, where the sharp crack of darts meeting board echoed like thunderclaps, Stephen Bunting finally shattered a decade-long drought. The 39-year-old Englishman, known to fans as “The Bullet,” stormed through Night Nine of the 2025 Premier League Darts with a display of grit and precision that left the crowd roaring and his rivals reeling. It was his first victory in the high-stakes tournament since 2015—a grueling wait marked by heartbreak, near-misses, and a brutal start to the season that had seen him tumble through eight straight defeats. But on this crisp April evening, Bunting reloaded and fired back, transforming despair into delirium.
The night began with a whisper of destiny. Backstage, just 30 minutes before his quarter-final clash with Nathan Aspinall, Bunting unleashed a flawless nine-darter in practice—a rare bullseye symphony of 501 points erased in nine perfect darts. It was the kind of omen that sends shivers down spines in the darts world, and Bunting carried that fire to the oche. He dismantled Aspinall 6-2, his arrows slicing through the air with surgical accuracy, each triple 20 landing like a declaration of war. The semi-final against world number one Luke Humphries was no less ferocious; Bunting edged out the defending champion in a tense battle of wills, his composure cracking only in the triumphant fist pumps that followed. Then came the final: a nail-biting showdown with Gerwyn Price, the Welsh powerhouse whose ice-cold checkouts have felled giants. Legs traded like punches in a heavyweight bout, but Bunting held firm, clinching a 6-5 thriller on the back of a clutch 121 finish. As the winning dart thudded home, Bunting dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, the weight of ten lost years dissolving in a flood of emotion. “I showed grit and determination and I never once gave in,” he would later reflect, his voice thick with the raw honesty of a man who’d stared into the abyss and blinked first.
The £10,000 prize was sweet, but it was the redemption that tasted sweetest. Bunting’s early-season slump had teetered on the edge of infamy; one more loss, and he’d have matched Peter Wright’s unwanted record of 13 consecutive Premier League defeats. Instead, this triumph vaulted him up the table, breathing new life into a campaign that had felt like a slow bleed. For Bunting, a St Helens native whose darts odyssey began in smoky pub leagues, the win was more than points on a leaderboard. It was vindication for the 2014 BDO World Champion who’d crossed to the PDC side amid fanfare, only to endure a wilderness of inconsistency—finals lost, majors dodged, and that nagging sense of untapped potential. His 2024 Masters victory had hinted at a resurgence, a spark reignited by family support and relentless practice. But Berlin? Berlin was the explosion.
As the arena lights dimmed and Berlin’s nightlife pulsed beyond the walls, Bunting retreated to his hotel room, trophy in tow. Sleep came fitfully, interrupted every hour by glances at his prize, as if fearing it might vanish like a dream. Dawn broke, and with it came inspiration from the unlikeliest muse: Lionel Messi, the eight-time Ballon d’Or wizard whose own crowning glory—a 2022 World Cup triumph with Argentina—had gifted the world one of sport’s most meme-worthy moments. Messi’s serene snapshot, lounging in bed with La Albiceleste’s golden grail cradled close, captioned simply “Good morning,” had captured the quiet ecstasy of victory’s afterglow. Bunting, ever the showman with a Scouse wit sharper than his 180s, saw the parallel and pounced.
Propped up in rumpled sheets, Bunting posed for his own masterpiece: a cheeky grin splitting his face, one arm draped possessively over the gleaming Premier League Night Nine trophy, the other flashing a peace sign to the camera. He was shirtless, tousled-haired, and utterly unfiltered—a darts equivalent of Messi’s understated swagger. Uploading the image to Instagram, he poured out his heart in a caption that blended humor, humility, and heartfelt gratitude. “OMG. WOW. What can I say,” he began, the words tumbling like an aftershock. “This trophy has to be one of the best I’ve been in bed with 😂😂. From the sheer turmoil of not winning a game in the first eight weeks of the Premier League, to then winning three on the night and claiming night nine in Berlin. What an amazing feeling.”
But Bunting didn’t stop at self-deprecation; he wove in the threads of his support system, the invisible forces that had pulled him from the canvas. “I’d like to thank my family (Keila, Toby & Theo) who have been inspiring me to keep believing even when things go wrong,” he wrote, his voice softening. “Massive thanks to my manager who’s always there through thick and thin… And last but by no means least… a huge huge thanks to the fans. I know supporting me can sometimes be difficult and rest assured that whenever I go up on the stage or to the oche I always give 110 per cent. This victory isn’t just for me guys, you all share this with me.”
The fans? Oh, they erupted. The “Let’s Go Bunting Mental” chant—a raucous Liverpool FC-inspired rallying cry—had swelled from a murmur to a stadium-shaking anthem over the season, and Bunting’s post amplified it into a global echo. “The ‘let’s go Bunting mental’ chant is so loud now and the walk on… what can I say… it leaves me so emotional that you guys sing it back in such a way it warms my heart. I love you all.” Within hours, the image ricocheted across social media, amassing likes, shares, and reposts in the tens of thousands. Darts diehards flooded comments with fire emojis and cries of “Iconic!” while casual sports fans drew parallels to Messi’s quiet legend status. “If Messi can bed the World Cup, Bunting’s earned his darts dalliance,” one viral tweet quipped, sparking threads of memes blending oches with pitches. Broadcasters like Sky Sports and talkSPORT amplified the buzz, their feeds ablaze with the photo, turning a niche triumph into crossover gold. Even non-darts corners of the internet lit up—football forums debating “trophy cuddles” across codes, and meme pages churning out edits of Bunting hoisting La Final instead of La Albiceleste.
For Bunting, the virality was icing on an already euphoric cake, a reminder that darts, like soccer, thrives on personality as much as prowess. It humanized the grind: the late nights tweaking grips, the sting of early exits, the unyielding belief from a wife and two young sons who saw the champion when the world glimpsed only the struggler. As the Premier League rolled on toward Manchester’s AO Arena on April 10—where Bunting would face Humphries again—the momentum felt unbreakable. This wasn’t just a win; it was a statement, a viral vow that “The Bullet” was loaded, locked, and ready to fire. In a sport of millimeters and mind games, Bunting had hit the bullseye of the heart, proving that sometimes, the greatest checkouts happen off the board. And as fans chanted his name into the ether, one thing was clear: Stephen Bunting wasn’t just back—he was unbreakable.
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