In the shadowed corners of the darts world, where precision meets passion under the glow of tungsten lights, a tale of betrayal unfolded that has left the sport reeling. On March 14, 2025, Prakash Jiwa, a 54-year-old veteran from Rugby, England, was cast out from the oche he’d called home, slapped with an eight-year ban for match-fixing—a punishment that ends his career as abruptly as a dart piercing the bullseye. The Darts Regulation Authority (DRA), the sport’s stern guardian of integrity, delivered the verdict after a meticulous investigation, finding Jiwa guilty of rigging four matches and betting on the outcomes. Alongside the ban, which stretches until November 6, 2031, he’s been ordered to pay a staggering £17,741.46 in costs—a financial sting as sharp as the suspension itself. “All betting customers in Britain should have confidence that bets placed with licensed gambling businesses are on markets that are fair and free from betting-related corruption,” declared a key figure from the Gambling Commission, his words a resolute echo of the sport’s shaken trust.
Jiwa’s story is one of a journeyman who’d tasted the big stage but never lingered long in its spotlight. Born to Indian heritage, he’d held a PDC Tour Card three times across his career, a testament to his skill with the arrows. His most notable moment came in December 2022, when he stepped onto the hallowed boards of the PDC World Championships at Alexandra Palace. There, under the glare of global eyes, he faced Latvia’s Madars Razma in the first round—a match he lost, bowing out as quickly as he’d arrived. Yet, that appearance earned him a ticket back for 2023 after clinching an Indian qualifier, a flicker of hope snuffed out when whispers of suspicious betting patterns surfaced in November that year. The DRA swooped in, suspending him before he could throw a dart in anger, and what followed was a probe that peeled back layers of deceit, revealing a man who’d traded honor for illicit gain.
The investigation, bolstered by the Gambling Commission’s Sports Betting Intelligence Unit, zeroed in on Jiwa’s actions during the 2023 Modus Super Series—a lesser-known circuit that still falls under the DRA’s watchful eye. Four matches, each a thread in a tangled web, came under scrutiny. Jiwa wasn’t alone in the spotlight—fellow players Jack Main and Andy Jenkins were implicated too, with Main copping a two-year ban, while Jenkins’ fate remains under review. But Jiwa’s sins stood out: he’d not only fixed those games but placed bets on darts, a double breach that shattered the sport’s code. After a hearing on January 21, 2025, the Disciplinary Committee laid down its hammer—he was guilty on the match-fixing and betting charges, though acquitted of obstructing the inquiry. “This decision sends a clear message that betting-related corruption in sport will not be tolerated,” the enforcement director emphasized, framing Jiwa’s fall as a warning shot across the bow of darts’ integrity.
Picture Jiwa in those fateful matches: a seasoned thrower, his stance steady, his darts once a blur of promise. Off the oche, he’s a warehouse manager, a man of routine whose life straddled two worlds—until one consumed the other. The Modus Super Series, a proving ground for players outside the PDC’s glitzy upper echelon, became his undoing. Suspicion first flared in late 2023, when betting anomalies pinged the radar of those tasked with keeping the game clean. By the time Jiwa was barred from the World Championships that December, the wheels of justice were already turning. The DRA, unyielding in its mission, partnered with betting watchdogs to unearth the truth—four matches, each a calculated betrayal, each a dart thrown not for victory but for profit.
The ban’s length—eight years—ensures Jiwa, already in his mid-50s, will likely never compete again. By November 2031, he’ll be 62, his competitive days a distant memory, his legacy tarnished beyond repair. The £17,741.46 fine, a hefty sum for a player of his stature, adds insult to injury—he must pay it in full for the suspension to lift, a clause that feels more symbolic than practical. He has until March 19, 2025, to appeal, a narrow window to plead his case, though the evidence against him stands like a triple-20 hit with unerring accuracy. “Our Sports Betting Intelligence Unit works closely with partners such as the Darts Regulation Authority to support sporting integrity investigations and combat match-fixing,” the Gambling Commission official added, painting a picture of a united front against corruption—a front Jiwa breached at his peril.
Darts, a game rooted in pubs and precision, thrives on trust—fans wager, players compete, and the board tells no lies. Jiwa’s actions struck at that heart, a betrayal that ripples beyond his own story. He wasn’t a household name like Phil Taylor or Michael van Gerwen, but his World Championship cameo had briefly lifted him from obscurity. Now, he’s a cautionary tale, a name whispered in hushed tones among the tungsten faithful. The Modus Super Series, too, bears the scar—its reputation dinged by a scandal that saw Main banned and Jenkins’ involvement still hanging in the balance. For Jiwa, the fall is personal: a man who once dreamed of darts glory now faces a future where the only boards he’ll see are in casual games, far from the roar of a crowd.
The sport moves on, as it must. Indian Wells buzzes with tennis stars this week, but darts’ own drama plays out in quieter halls, where the DRA’s ruling reverberates. Jiwa’s ban aligns with a broader crackdown—Northern Ireland’s Kyle McKinstry got eight years in 2020, teenage prodigy Leighton Bennett the same in 2024, both for match-fixing. The pattern’s clear: the DRA wields its axe without mercy, determined to purge the game of rot. “The integrity of the sport must be maintained,” the authorities insist, a mantra that’s both shield and sword. Jiwa’s not accused of dragging others down—there’s no hint Razma or his Modus foes knew—but his solo plunge still muddies the waters, a reminder that even fringe players can cast long shadows.
As the desert sun sets on Indian Wells, Jiwa’s story fades from headlines, but its echo lingers in darts’ soul. He’s a man who gambled more than money, betting his career on a lie that crumbled under scrutiny. The eight-year exile, the crushing fine—they’re the price of that gamble, a cost he’ll bear alone. For fans, it’s a gut punch—another crack in a sport they love, another name scratched from the roster. Yet, the game endures, its players vowing to reclaim its honor, one dart at a time. Jiwa’s chapter closes, a dark footnote in darts’ sprawling tale, leaving behind a lesson as sharp as the flights he once threw: in this game, integrity isn’t negotiable, and the board always settles the score.
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