In the high-stakes world of professional darts, where precision meets pressure and every throw can swing fortunes, the bond between rivals often blurs into something more profound under the spotlight of national duty. Such was the case for Luke Humphries and Luke Littler, two of England’s brightest stars, who stepped up as teammates for the 2025 BetVictor World Cup of Darts in Frankfurt. What should have been a triumphant defense of England’s crown—Humphries having lifted the trophy the previous year alongside Michael Smith—turned into an unexpected stumble, igniting debates that still echo months later. Now, as the darts calendar hurtles toward its winter climax, Humphries has fired back at whispers of discord, emphatically declaring their unity amid the fallout.
The World Cup, a biennial showcase of international prowess held in the electric atmosphere of Eissporthalle Frankfurt, draws the globe’s top pairs to battle in doubles format. For Humphries, the 30-year-old world number one from Newbury, and the prodigious 18-year-old Littler from Warrington, the stakes couldn’t have been higher. Humphries entered as the reigning PDC World Champion, having clinched the 2024 title with a dramatic comeback against Littler himself in the final—a match that captivated millions and solidified their status as the sport’s defining rivalry. Littler, the teenage sensation who burst onto the scene with a runner-up finish in that same championship at just 16, had since added majors like the 2025 World Grand Prix to his tally, amassing a collection of accolades that belied his youth.
As defending champions, England were overwhelming favorites. Humphries’ cool-headed consistency, often averaging over 100 in clutch moments, paired with Littler’s explosive power—capable of nine-dart finishes that leave crowds roaring—promised dominance. Yet, in their opening knockout clash against hosts Germany, represented by the formidable Ricardo Pietreczko and Martin Schindler, the dream unraveled. Trailing from the outset, England faltered in a 8-4 defeat, their arrows finding the board but not the rhythm. Pietreczko’s steely checkouts and Schindler’s tactical nous exposed cracks, sending the English duo packing in what felt like a seismic upset. “It was hard to watch,” Humphries later reflected, his voice laced with the sting of what might have been. The loss not only ended their campaign prematurely but handed the narrative to critics eager to dissect the why.
Enter Gerwyn Price, the fiery Welshman and former world champion, whose own nation had marched to glory’s doorstep. Paired with the unflappable Jonny Clayton, Wales dismantled the Philippines 8-2 in the group stage, then powered past Hong Kong and the Netherlands to reach the final. There, they fell just short in a heart-stopping 10-9 thriller to Northern Ireland’s Daryl Gurney and Josh Rock, who claimed their first-ever title in a decider that had the arena on its feet. Fresh from that near-miss, Price didn’t mince words about England’s flop. Speaking candidly post-match, he pointed to an apparent lack of cohesion as the culprit. “I think you need to have a connection,” Price asserted. “You need that camaraderie off the stage because when we all turned up on the first day—and I’m not just saying this because they lost—the only two players that didn’t turn up together, didn’t sit together, didn’t play as a team… You need to turn up as a team, practice together, sit together. It’s a team ethic, and it didn’t show with England. It showed on the board. They’re great players individually, but you need to be as a team. I wanted them to do well, but they were rubbish.”
Price’s barbs struck a nerve, fueling speculation that Humphries and Littler, locked in a fierce individual rivalry—having clashed in multiple major finals, with Humphries holding a 3-1 edge—hadn’t gelled as partners. Whispers of egos clashing, routines conflicting, and a failure to forge that intangible team spark rippled through the darts community. After all, darts is as much a mental marathon as a physical one; legends like Phil Taylor and Michael van Gerwen thrived on unshakeable partnerships in past World Cups. Had England’s dynamic duo, burdened by their solo successes, overlooked the collective grind?
Humphries, ever the diplomat with a steely resolve beneath his “Cool Hand” moniker, waited for the right moment to respond. Speaking exclusively at the US Darts Masters in Las Vegas—a tournament where he dazzled with a nine-dart finish en route to the semis—he set the record straight with characteristic candor. “There was a lot of talk about me and Luke not being a team, but coming from the horse’s mouth, I can assure you we were a team,” he insisted to darts insiders. “We were. We didn’t arrive at the same time, no, because I said not to. I told Luke, ‘Do your own thing.’ There’s no point in us trying to change the ways we play. He gets there about two hours before, I get there four hours before. I need more practice, he don’t. So I said to Luke, ‘Just do what you do before, don’t change yourself for me.’ All that stuff about us not being a team was not true. We were well up for playing together, we got along really well. It just didn’t happen and that’s it.”
In those words, Humphries dismantled the narrative of division, painting a picture of mutual respect amid their competitive fire. Far from aloof rivals forced together, they had consciously preserved their individual prep rituals—Littler’s laid-back efficiency contrasting Humphries’ meticulous warm-ups—to maximize performance. Their off-board rapport, Humphries emphasized, was solid; shared laughs in the practice room, strategic huddles, and a shared hunger to represent England. The loss, he conceded, was a bitter pill, but one attributable to the Germans’ superior day, not internal strife. “We get along really well,” he reiterated, a subtle nod to the camaraderie that Price had questioned.
Littler, no stranger to controversy, had already shown his feisty side in the aftermath, firing off a now-deleted social media retort to another critic, two-time world champion Dennis Priestley, who had questioned their recent MBE honors in light of the exit. “Don’t deserve an MBE but done more in 12 months than he ever did… that’s what I would say anyway,” the teenager quipped, his youthful bravado endearing him further to fans. Yet, in defending their partnership, Humphries’ measured tone carried extra weight, bridging the generational gap and underscoring a maturity that has propelled him to the sport’s pinnacle.
As darts eyes the lucrative Players Championship Finals and the festive World Championship at Ally Pally, this episode serves as a reminder of the World Cup’s unique alchemy. For Humphries and Littler, it was a rare detour from their head-to-head heroics—think the electric 2025 Premier League final where Humphries edged a 11-8 revenge win, or Littler’s thumping 6-1 World Grand Prix triumph earlier that year. Their rivalry, laced with respect, has elevated darts to new heights, drawing record TV audiences and inspiring a surge in grassroots play. But in Frankfurt, it was the team dynamic that tested them, and Humphries’ rebuttal—”not true at all”—closes the chapter with dignity.
Looking ahead, both players vow to channel the disappointment into fuel. Humphries, chasing a defense of his world title, and Littler, hungry for his first, will likely cross paths again soon, arrows flying in friendly fire. For now, though, the Iceman has thawed the frost on England’s World Cup tale, proving that true partnerships in darts aren’t forged in photo-ops, but in the quiet understanding between throws. In a sport where legends are made one dart at a time, their story—rivalrous yet resilient—promises to keep captivating the oche’s faithful.
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