In the electric atmosphere of Dortmund’s Westfalenhalle, where the roar of 7,000 darts devotees echoed like thunder, James Wade etched another chapter into his storied career. The 42-year-old veteran, long revered as “The Machine” for his unflinching precision, orchestrated a masterful 10-7 upset over teenage phenom Luke Littler in the last 16 of the 2025 European Championship. Averaging a blistering 97.75, Wade not only denied the 18-year-old world champion a shot at overtaking Luke Humphries for the No. 1 ranking but also claimed his first televised triumph over Littler—a feat that cements him as the only player in PDC history to have bested every world champion on the small screen. Yet, beyond the scoreboard’s glow, this victory pulsed with a deeper resonance, one that spilled into an interview so raw and revealing it left the darts world collectively holding its breath.
The match itself was a taut symphony of highs and near-misses, a classic clash of Wade’s methodical grit against Littler’s explosive flair. Littler, fresh off a string of European Tour scalps and riding a wave of hype, started sluggishly, allowing Wade to surge to an early 2-0 lead with a clinical 121 checkout that silenced the partisan crowd. The young star clawed back, leveling at 2-2 with a scorching 13-darter and even nosing ahead 3-2 on the bullseye for an 81 finish that ignited cheers. But Wade, ever the tactician, weathered the storm, reclaiming control at 6-4 with an 84 checkout and holding firm through a flurry of exchanged legs. In the end, it was Littler’s missed doubles—tops, then double 10—that proved fatal, paving the way for Wade’s decisive 108 finish. “Yeah, you know, it was tricky,” Wade reflected post-match, his voice steady but laced with humility. “It probably wasn’t quite what it should have been. I think we should have won by quite a margin, but you know, it is what it is.” He paused, a faint smile cracking through. “Yeah, I mean, I let him in a multitude of times. So, you know, I’m just happy to win.”
That joy, however, wasn’t born from glory or the £120,000 prize dangling in the quarter-finals. It stemmed from a far more profound source: his seven-year-old son, Arthur. As the cameras closed in for the interview, Wade’s armored facade crumbled, revealing a father wrestling with vulnerabilities that no 180 could silence. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD at 27, Wade has long navigated the sport’s mental minefield with quiet fortitude. But when Arthur inherited the same “amazing gift,” as Wade wryly called it, the weight became unbearable. “When Arthur was first born, I thought he’d evade my amazing gift—but unfortunately, he’s inherited it all,” he shared, his eyes glistening under the arena lights. The boy’s recent diagnosis had plunged Wade into isolation, a labyrinth of unanswered questions. “Recently, when my child was diagnosed with a lot of problems—who do you turn to? If you have a child that’s got a few problems, and my boy is magical as well, who do you turn to? I didn’t know who to turn to, and I still don’t know who to turn to.”
In that moment, Wade transformed from darts icon to everyman advocate, his words a clarion call for the invisible battles families fight. He praised the PDC’s supportive ethos—”they’re amazing people”—and Modus Darts’ pledge to lend a hand, yet underscored the gaping void in resources. Arthur, he insisted, isn’t defined by his struggles; he’s “magical,” a spark of potential that Wade is desperate to nurture. “I’d like to think that my biggest charm in the world now is—and you can all call it rubbish or crap or whatever you want—my biggest challenge now is to help people like myself who understand children’s problems because they’ve inherited them from their parents,” Wade said, his tone fierce with resolve. “That’s my biggest thing now. I won’t lie or die until it’s recognised as much as I can.”
This win, then, was no mere checkpoint in a 25-year odyssey through darts’ glittering corridors—four World Championship semi-finals, majors aplenty, and a legacy etched in tungsten. It was a beacon for Arthur, proof that “quirky” souls can conquer. “It’s a great thing for someone like my son that’s struggling at the moment. So, Arthur—we can do it,” Wade dedicated, invoking the boy’s name like a talisman. He dismissed the lure of cash or crowns with veteran nonchalance: “I’m not really proud, you know—I’m just doing my job. As I say, I’ve got a son that’s struggling a hell of a lot, but we’re doing all right. We’re doing just fine. It’s not about money, it’s not about rewards. I’ve done the money course, and I’ve done the rewards course.” Instead, a seismic shift had ignited within him, one that recast his every throw. “Despite what’s happened on stage, for me now, I’m driven by something different,” he confessed. “It’s the first time I’ve been driven by something different in 20 years. I’m driven by something new, and I’m excited to do that. I want to try and be an ambassador for something new—something that doesn’t even exist yet.”
Wade’s candor rippled outward, humanizing a sport often reduced to averages and checkouts. He recalled a near-miss at the World Matchplay, where three darts at double eluded him at 14-all, not with bitterness but as a lesson in resilience. “I register those things… but I do things like this now just to say to my son, who’s seven years old, that we all have our little differences, but we can do it. And I told you, Arthur—we can do it. Me and you, mate, we’ll do it. We’ll take on everyone.” Even the Dortmund crowd, a boisterous beast that once unnerved him, felt secondary. “Yeah, I got really nervous, no I didn’t,” he quipped. “I believe I should have got it over and done with quicker. I’m happy to win, and I’m happy to move forward. But as I say, someone like me, who comes from a normal upbringing—which most dart players do—I won’t be ignorant to someone like my son.”
As Wade advances, his quarter-final horizon looms with fresh possibility, but his true trajectory points beyond the oche. In Arthur, he sees not just a son but a successor unbound by darts’ rigors—”My son, at seven years old, will do better than I’m doing now—a hundred million percent—because he’s got me backing him. Not at darts, hopefully something far different.” And in sharing his scars, Wade emerges as darts’ unlikely pioneer, forging a path where mental health isn’t whispered but championed. His son, he affirmed with quiet thunder, is his “biggest hero.” In a world of calculated flights, Wade’s raw honesty lands truest—reminding us that victory’s sweetest sting is the one that heals. With Arthur watching from afar, “The Machine” hums on, not for the roar, but for the quiet promise of tomorrow.
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