In the pulsating heart of Newcastle’s Utilita Arena, where the electric hum of anticipation meets the sharp thud of darts piercing the board, Gerwyn Price stepped into the spotlight of Premier League Darts night eight with a bold move that stole the show—for all the wrong reasons. The 40-year-old Welsh firebrand, affectionately dubbed “The Iceman” for his steely composure under pressure, has long been a polarizing force in the sport. A former PDC world champion with a rugby-honed physique and a temperament that can swing from icy focus to volcanic eruption, Price arrived in the northeast of England not just to compete, but to conquer. Yet, on March 27, 2025, it wasn’t his throws or his roars that dominated the headlines. It was his music—a jarring switch-up from his iconic entrance anthem that left fans reeling, divided, and downright savage in their social media takedowns.
For years, Price’s walk-on has been as synonymous with his persona as his guttural celebrations after a big checkout. The infectious beat of Vanilla Ice’s “Ice, Ice Baby” has accompanied him onto stages worldwide, a playful nod to his nickname that gets crowds chanting along before he’s even toed the oche. It’s a ritual that’s become legend: the bassline thumping as Price, eyes locked in determination, strides forward like a gladiator entering the Colosseum. But Price, ever the experimenter, isn’t one to rest on laurels. Back in 2022, he ditched the Vanilla Ice classic for Katy Perry’s empowering “Roar,” a cheeky tribute to his animated on-stage antics that had fans buzzing about his flair for drama. And just this January, ahead of the new season, he took to social media soliciting ideas from supporters, teasing a refresh that hinted at evolution rather than revolution. “What should my new walk-on be?” he posted, sparking a flurry of suggestions from heavy metal riffs to Welsh anthems. Little did they know, his choice would ignite a firestorm.
Thursday night’s quarter-final against Rob Cross, the 34-year-old English powerhouse gunning for a third straight win over Price, was the canvas for this auditory experiment. As the arena lights dimmed and the crowd—swollen with local pride after Newcastle United’s fresh 2-1 Carabao Cup triumph over Liverpool—rose to their feet, the opening chords of Myles Smith’s “Nice to Meet You” filled the air. The folk-tinged indie track, with its gentle strums and introspective lyrics about fresh starts, clashed spectacularly with the high-octane vibe of professional darts. Price, clad in his signature black attire, emerged with his trademark intensity, but the mismatch was palpable. Whispers rippled through the stands; phones whipped out to capture the surreal moment. By the time he reached the stage, the song’s mellow hook—”Nice to meet you, where you been?”—hung awkwardly amid the jeers and puzzled murmurs.
The match itself unfolded like a cautionary tale of disrupted rhythm. Price, seeded high and harboring grand designs on the title, started tentatively. He averaged a middling 86.17 across the sets, his checkout conversion a frustrating 2 out of 9 on the doubles—opportunities squandered that mirrored the broader narrative of his season’s inconsistency. Cross, cool and clinical, capitalized ruthlessly, storming to a 6-2 victory in a display that underscored why he’s a perennial contender. Price’s post-match demeanor was stoic, but his words to Sky Sports betrayed the hunger beneath: “I’m in the Premier League and I’m here to win it. If I don’t, it’s a disappointment. I’m getting back to my best, the consistency is coming and I’m hoping to win some big majors this year.” Yet, for all his talk of resurgence, the real post-mortem unfolded online, where the walk-on became the undisputed villain of the night.
Social media erupted faster than a 180 cluster, with darts diehards unleashing a torrent of memes, polls, and brutal one-liners that trended under hashtags like #PriceWalkOn and #WorstSongEver. One fan, capturing the collective cringe, tweeted, “Gerwyn Price vs Rob Cross for world’s worst walkout song. Loser has to keep it forever.” Another piled on with, “New Gerwyn Price walkout is proper bad but somehow still miles better than Cross’.” The vitriol escalated quickly: “Gerwyn price changed his walkout music? Outrageous,” read one post, while @jordanwatson70 declared outright, “Gerwyn Price now has the worst walk on song in darts.” @JoshC_mufc2’s baffled query—”Gerwyn Price wtf was that walk on song??”—racked up hundreds of likes, echoed by @ShaunaRae95’s blunt assessment: “Why has Gerwyn Price changed his walk on music? It’s s***!” Not even the most diplomatic could spare it; @Slothie_Bee lamented, “Gerwyn Price with worst walk-on song ever played. Bring back Vanilla Ice!” And @ajascpfc summed up the consensus with a sarcastic salute: “Fair play Gerwyn Price that is the WORST walk-on song ever.”
The backlash wasn’t just noise—it highlighted a deeper truth about walk-ons in darts. These aren’t mere preludes; they’re psychological weapons, morale boosters that sync with a player’s brand and hype the crowd into a frenzy. Think Luke Humphries’ riotous entrance to the Kaiser Chiefs’ “I Predict A Riot” later that night, which electrified the arena as he dismantled local hero Chris Dobey 6-3. Dobey himself, riding the wave of Geordie fervor with Newcastle stars Kieran Trippier, Dan Burn, and Harvey Barnes in the crowd, strutted out to Mark Knopfler’s “Local Hero”—a fitting anthem that had the roof nearly lifting off. Price’s pivot to something so subdued felt like a misfire, a folksy outlier in a playlist dominated by anthemic bangers. Pundits chimed in too, with one analyst quipping on air, “It’s like walking into a heavyweight fight with a lullaby—brave, but baffling.”
As the dust settled, questions swirled: Was this a one-off stunt, a nod to Smith’s rising star (the song had climbed charts earlier that month), or a genuine rebrand? Price, tight-lipped in the mixed zone, offered no hints, focusing instead on the road ahead to Berlin. His camp knows the stakes— with majors looming and rivals like Humphries and Cross nipping at his heels, every edge counts. Fans, for their part, have voted with their thumbs-downs, flooding suggestion threads with pleas to revert or revamp radically. “An improvement, but still dire,” rated one X user, rating it a measly 3/10. Another poll from a darts insider asked, “Is this the worst walk-on song you’ve ever heard?”—the yeses pouring in like a barrage of unfinishes.
In the end, Price’s sonic shake-up served as a reminder of the sport’s intoxicating blend of precision and personality. Darts isn’t just about the throw; it’s the theater, the tension, the tunes that turn athletes into icons. For “The Iceman,” this frosty reception might chill his momentum, or it could thaw into motivation—a quirky footnote in a career defined by comebacks. As he eyes those “big majors,” one thing’s certain: next time he hits the oche, the world will be listening. And if history’s any guide, they’ll be hoping for a beat that slaps harder than a maximum. Whether he sticks with the indie vibes or slides back to Vanilla Ice’s cool, Price’s next entrance promises to be anything but forgettable. In darts’ grand circus, where heroes are made and memes are minted in equal measure, Gerwyn Price remains the ultimate wildcard—chilled, charged, and always ready to melt faces, on or off the board.
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