In the electrifying cauldron of Blackpool’s Winter Gardens, where the air hums with the sharp crack of darts hitting the board and the roar of a packed crowd, tensions boiled over into one of the most unforgettable clashes in recent PDC history. Gerwyn Price, the fiery Welsh powerhouse known as “The Iceman,” edged out Northern Ireland’s Daryl Gurney 10-7 in the opening round of the 2025 World Matchplay, but victory came laced with venom. What started as a gritty battle of precision and power devolved into a storm of mimicked celebrations, aggressive handshakes, and backstage fury that had security scrambling and pundits buzzing. This wasn’t just a match—it was a powder keg, reigniting a rivalry that’s simmered for years and reminding fans why darts can pack the punch of a heavyweight bout.
The World Matchplay, a prestigious best-of-19-legs spectacle that draws the sport’s elite to the iconic seaside venue, kicked off with high stakes. Price, seeded third and riding a wave of renewed form after shedding pounds in a rigorous fitness overhaul, entered as a favorite to reclaim glory. His season had been a rollercoaster: flashes of brilliance overshadowed by inconsistency, but his raw intensity always loomed large. Gurney, the 13th seed and a dogged competitor with a reputation for steely resolve, arrived hungry to upset the apple cart. Their head-to-head record? Evenly split at 5-5, but laced with bad blood that dates back to a notorious 2019 Premier League skirmish in Sheffield, where shoves flew and officials had to pry them apart. That night in South Yorkshire, words turned to near-fisticuffs, etching their names into darts lore as combustible characters who wear their emotions like badges of honor.
From the opening leg, the match crackled with unease. Price, averaging a respectable 100.21 across the contest and firing in six 180s, seized early control with a clinical 114 checkout to level at 1-1. Gurney, no stranger to high-pressure finishes, responded with flair—a blistering 150 checkout in the ninth leg that clawed him back into contention and sent the crowd into a frenzy. But it was the psychological jabs that truly ignited the fuse. As Price unleashed his signature guttural roars after snatching legs—those primal bellows that echo his rugby roots—Gurney couldn’t resist retaliation. In a moment of cheeky provocation, the Northern Irishman began mimicking Price’s celebrations: exaggerated fist pumps, mock snarls, and wide-eyed stares that screamed disdain. “Daryl Gurney didn’t like a reaction from Gezzy, so he kind of mimicked Gezzy’s reaction,” commentator Wayne Mardle later quipped. “Gezzy didn’t like his mimicking of his reaction, and kids will be kids.”
The crowd lapped it up, their cheers morphing into a wall of noise that amplified every dart’s thud. Price, true to his “Iceman” moniker, bottled his fury, channeling it into focus. “I just felt like I needed to keep myself composed,” he reflected afterward. “Sometimes I was forcing not to let my emotions get the best of me and sometimes that’s what happens and I can let out the emotions out and then the next leg is not so good, so sometimes I try and control it and I did in that game.” He defied Gurney’s 150 surge with back-to-back legs finished in 11 and 14 darts, his final dart—a double 12—sealing the deal amid a thunderous ovation. Price’s roar was volcanic, a release of pent-up fire that reverberated through the arena. But as the players met at the oche for the post-match handshake, the dam burst.
What followed was pure theater: Price grabbed Gurney’s hand with a vice-like grip, squaring up inches from his face as animated words flew under their breath. Gurney, eyes flashing with defiance, pulled away sharply and stormed offstage, leaving Price to bask in uneasy triumph. “That’s the type of characters they are,” analyst Mark Webster observed. “Gerwyn Price was taking issue with Daryl Gurney’s mimicking of him. They’re feisty characters, aren’t they? Let’s not take away from what was a brilliant game. Price kept it in check until he got that winning leg and Gerwyn Price gets the last laugh.” Mardle, ever the voice of seasoned insight, added a layer of wry humor: “It’s all childish. At the end when it kind of got a physical handshake, I think it’s better than cuddling to be fair. It’s professional sport. I haven’t got a problem with it at all. There was a lot of machismo up there.”
The drama didn’t end with the walk-off. Backstage, as Price fielded questions from talkSPORT, Gurney lurked like a shadow, his frustration boiling over. Eyewitnesses described him peering around the door, veins bulging, ready for round two—only for two burly security guards to haul him back. “Gurney was literally at the door with his head round the corner,” recounted Dutch darts podcaster Damian Vlottes. “Two security guards had to hold him back. He clearly wanted to confront Price again. He came in swearing.” Vincent van der Voort, a former top-tier pro turned commentator, painted a vivid picture of the standoff: “He was ready for a nice, friendly chat. He was absolutely fuming. Still insisting he did nothing wrong, that it was all on Price. I only spoke to Daryl afterwards. All he said was, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’ He was angry, really angry. There was no calm conversation. He made it clear he’s not a fan of Price. But I imagine Price would say the opposite. There’s so much emotion involved. I don’t mind it though, adds spice to the sport. As long as it doesn’t turn physical, this sort of tension has its place.”
Gurney, when pressed later, doubled down on his innocence, muttering expletives to himself as he retreated during a break. Price, ever the showman, sidestepped the melee in his presser—PDC officials nixing any questions on the feud—but couldn’t resist a jab on Instagram: “Have to be careful these days, I’m down to light cruiser weight.” He downplayed his own display, admitting, “To be honest, I thought I was struggling for that game, but I came off and seen the stats and I averaged around 100 I think, which is decent. I felt like I was pretty poor in our game in patches and didn’t play particularly well, and there’s a lot more in the tank.” Yet, beneath the humility burned pride: “I have learnt to keep my emotions intact and I think I did today in two or three legs where my head was going to blow off, but I just had to keep it in. For a lot of legs I was beating myself up, missing opportunities… I went to the table and I felt like the 150 was going out and it did, and it just gave myself a kick up the backside as well to just break him here now and get the match done. And I did. I think possibly that’s what got me over the winning line is just trying to keep everything intact and then let it go at the end.”
As the dust settled, the incident rippled through the tournament like a shockwave. Michael van Gerwen, fresh off a gritty 10-6 grind past Raymond van Barneveld—where he averaged below his best but still advanced—tried to play peacemaker in the corridor, urging, “Come on lads, calm down.” Van Gerwen, a three-time Matchplay king (2015, 2016, 2022), knows the venue’s intensity all too well: “This is a tournament I love to play. I have won it three times. It is always an intense crowd. Everything is perfect. But when you don’t play perfect it is really annoying. We all know I am a winner. I don’t like losing. But maybe this is the start of something really nice.” Meanwhile, young gun Josh Rock dazzled with a 104.32 average and a monstrous 167 checkout in a 10-5 demolition of Ross Smith, signaling the next generation’s rise amid the veterans’ chaos.
For Price, the win catapults him into a second-round showdown with England’s Chris Dobey, a chance to channel the fire without the fallout. Gurney’s early exit stings, but his unapologetic edge ensures he’ll be back swinging. In a sport where the line between passion and peril is as thin as a double 16 wire, this Winter Gardens whirlwind proves darts isn’t just about the throw—it’s about the throwdown. Fans, from the raucous Blackpool faithful to global viewers glued to Sky Sports, crave this raw authenticity. As van der Voort put it, “There was a bit of mimicking, body language… you could feel the tension rising between them. He was at it throughout, gesturing, little games. That’s fine. But to blow up like that straight after the match… clearly a lot of bottled-up frustration. It’s unfortunate, but at least we’ve got something to talk about now.” And talk they will—because in darts’ grand theater, heroes aren’t forged in silence; they’re hammered in the heat of the clash. With the Matchplay heating up, expect more sparks, more stories, and perhaps, just perhaps, a truce that no one truly wants. After all, the real winners? The sport itself, alive with the roar of unfiltered rivalry.
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