In the electrifying world of professional darts, where every throw can swing from heartbreak to glory, few storylines grip the imagination like a clash between old mates turned fierce rivals. This weekend at the Grand Slam of Darts in Wolverhampton, the Aldely Theatre will pulse with anticipation as Nathan Aspinall steps up against Michael “Bullyboy” Smith. It’s not just a Group G opener—it’s a powder keg of camaraderie and competition, with Aspinall openly rooting for his pal’s phoenix-like rise from the ashes, even as he plots to send him tumbling back down.
Aspinall, the two-time PDC major winner and current darling of the circuit with his lightning-quick finishes and unflappable cool, doesn’t mince words about Smith’s plight. The Stockport thrower has watched his friend endure a brutal gauntlet of setbacks that would test the steel of any champion. Smith, the 2023 PDC World Darts Champion who once dismantled legends like Michael van Gerwen in a final for the ages, has been battered by a relentless storm of injuries. Wrist woes that sidelined him mid-tournament, a nagging shoulder that turned bullseyes into bullseyes of pain, a foot issue that hobbled his stance, and the insidious grip of arthritis that creeps into every grip and release. “He’s had a loyalty card at A&E,” Aspinall quips with a wry grin, capturing the grim humor of Smith’s endless hospital dashes.
Yet, through it all, Smith has soldiered on with a stubborn resilience that Aspinall can’t help but admire. The St Helens native, known for his thunderous power and that trademark scowl that masks a fiercely competitive fire, chose to battle his demons in solitude. “Michael did it his own way,” Aspinall reflects, contrasting it with his own journey. When Aspinall hit his own rough patch—a back injury that forced him out of the 2023 World Championship—he turned to sports psychologists and physios for a lifeline. Smith? He gritted his teeth and powered through, no handouts, no shortcuts. “Everyone handles that differently, and fair play for that,” Aspinall says, his voice laced with genuine respect. It’s this unyielding spirit that has Aspinall convinced the Bullyboy is far from broken.
The numbers tell a tale of tribulation, but also of quiet defiance. This year alone, Smith has racked up 19 first-round exits across a grueling Pro Tour schedule, a statistic that would crush lesser souls. He’s tumbled to 30th on the PDC Order of Merit, a far cry from the summit where he reigned supreme just two years ago. The snubs stung hardest: no invitation to the glittering Premier League, where the elite jostle under the brightest lights; no spot in the World Matchplay’s summer spectacle at the Winter Gardens; not even a seat at the World Grand Prix’s autumnal feast. For a player who hadn’t ended a season without a title since 2019, it was a drought that parched the soul. Smith spent too many nights glued to the telly, watching the big TV showdowns unfold without him, his darts gathering dust while rivals feasted on the glory.
But darts, like life, rewards the grinders. Smith clawed his way into the Grand Slam through the Tour Card Holder Qualifier, a brutal grind of last-chance saloon matches where only the hungriest survive. Last weekend, he was a revelation—firing arrows with the venom of his prime, dismantling opponents with 180s that echoed like thunderclaps. Aspinall, who caught glimpses of those qualifiers, was hooked. “Last weekend at the qualifiers you saw that: he played very well again,” he enthuses. “He never lost his talent, just his confidence.” It’s a poignant distinction, one that separates the truly great from the merely gifted. Smith’s throw—the fluid, explosive release that once propelled him to the 2022 Grand Slam of Darts title—remains as lethal as ever. What faltered was the mental edge, that razor-sharp belief that turns pressure into putty.
Aspinall’s faith in his friend’s revival runs deep, forged in the fires of their shared circuit battles and off-stage banter. The pair have been thick as thieves for years, swapping stories over post-match pints and trading playful jabs about whose walk-on song reigns supreme—Aspinall’s cheeky “Sweet Caroline” remix versus Smith’s brooding anthems. But come Saturday evening, all bets are off. “Friendship stops at the oche,” Aspinall declares with a laugh, his eyes twinkling at the delicious irony. “He’s back on track. He was through a lot. He’s had a lot of injuries, and mentally it wasn’t easy. That’s why I’m really happy to see him back on television. Well, less happy that he’s in my group, but good.” The sentiment is pure Asp: supportive to a fault, yet ruthlessly pragmatic. He envisions Smith unleashing hell on the board, but only after their showdown. “Hopefully he throws bad against me on Saturday and then great,” Aspinall wishes aloud, half-joking, half-praying. “Michael always does his own thing, and that seems to be working again now.”
And the prediction? Aspinall doesn’t hedge. “I’d be shocked if he’s not back in the top 15 next year. He’s a proper player again,” he asserts, painting a vivid picture of Smith’s imminent return to the elite fray. It’s not blind optimism; it’s the verdict of a peer who’s shared the spotlight and the shadows. Smith “absolutely deserves to be here,” Aspinall insists, and in the cauldron of the Grand Slam—where 32 of the world’s sharpest qualifiers collide in a format that punishes the unsteady—proving that will be Smith’s first mission.
Of course, Aspinall has his own dragons to slay in what pundits are already dubbing the “Group of Death.” Drawn alongside world number one Luke Humphries, the reigning champion with a metronomic precision that borders on the robotic, and American sensation Alex Spellman, a wildcard with raw power and zero fear, Aspinall’s path to the knockout stages is a minefield. Humphries, fresh off a string of majors, looms as the colossus; Spellman, the unheralded Yank crashing the party, adds an X-factor of unpredictability. For Aspinall, victory over Smith isn’t just personal—it’s the spark needed to ignite his campaign. “Save your best for Humphries,” he half-teases his mate, the words carrying the weight of strategic hope.
As the Aldely’s lights dim and the crowd roars, this oche standoff promises more than darts—it’s a testament to the sport’s soul-stirring drama. Two lads from the north, bound by brotherhood and divided by destiny, each hurling not just darts but dreams. Smith’s comeback isn’t a fairy tale; it’s a gritty redemption arc, scripted in sweat and 180s. With Aspinall’s vote of confidence ringing in his ears—”He’s back on TV, and I really believe he’ll be back in the top fifteen by the end of next year”—Bullyboy has the wind at his back. Whether he topples his pal first remains to be seen, but one thing’s certain: the board is set for a stunning resurgence, and the darts world is watching with bated breath.
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