In the electrifying world of professional darts, where a flick of the wrist can rewrite legacies and a single bullseye can silence a roaring crowd, few moments capture the sport’s raw thrill like a mentor’s gauntlet thrown down to his protégé. Just days ago, under the bright lights of a TalkSPORT studio, 18-year-old phenom Luke Littler stepped up to the oche—not with his trusty signature darts, but with a set borrowed from the undisputed king of the game: 16-time world champion Phil “The Power” Taylor. What started as a playful challenge quickly morphed into a tantalizing hint of upheaval, as Littler, fresh off a banner year of triumphs, confessed he’s “getting excited” about potentially ditching his gear for Taylor’s legendary setup. It’s the kind of whisper that sends ripples through the darts community, blending reverence for the past with bold ambition for the future.
Picture the scene: Taylor, the 65-year-old colossus whose trophy haul boasts 79 televised titles and a record-shattering dominance that spanned three decades, leans in with that trademark grin. “You’ve won what you’ve won with your darts,” he tells the young gun, his voice laced with the authority of someone who’s turned Alexandra Palace into his personal coliseum. “Now try the Power’s darts—the GOAT’s darts!” It’s a nod to Taylor’s self-proclaimed status as the Greatest of All Time, but also a subtle prod at Littler, whose meteoric rise has already drawn inevitable comparisons. Littler, nicknamed “The Nuke” for his explosive scoring power, grabs the 22-gram GX2 Target darts—slimmer, thicker, and equipped with shorter points than his own 23-gram Gen 1 models, which feature longer tips and bulkier flights for that extra stability he craves.
The challenges kick off with a bang, testing not just skill but adaptability—the true hallmark of a champion. Littler nails two treble 20s in pursuit of a 180, the crowd-pleaser that lights up scoreboards like fireworks. But on the third dart, disaster strikes: it bounces out, dislodging another and turning potential glory into a comedic clatter. “What did I say about the longer points?” Littler quips, his frustration bubbling over with a wry smile. “I need longer points.” Undeterred, he racks up scores of 30, 39, and a respectable 98 in follow-ups, proving Taylor’s prediction half-right. “Luke, I think [he] can play with anything to [a] standard,” the veteran had mused earlier. “It won’t be as [good] as what he throws his own darts, but I think he’ll do all right.” Taylor’s wisdom cuts deeper: “You can throw anything to a certain standard… but you’d never be a world champion with them. Because it’s not your particular dart—some people can throw mine and win tournaments, but some people can’t.”
The action heats up with Littler’s favorite double 10, the bed he peppers with surgical precision in big matches. After a wayward single 10 opener, he threads two darts bull’s-eye into the double, drawing nods of approval from the legend himself. But the Big Fish— that heart-stopping 170 checkout of treble 20, treble 20, and bullseye—proves elusive. Twice, he clips singles instead of trebles, shrugging off the misses with the nonchalance of youth. In a bullseye-versus-outer-25 showdown, he bags two in a row before three straight failures test his patience. The double 20 finale? Two singles followed by a dart that sails wildly off the board, eliciting groans and laughter in equal measure. Through it all, Littler’s complaints about the “smaller and thicker” feel of Taylor’s darts underscore a deeper truth: darts aren’t just tools; they’re extensions of a player’s soul, calibrated to instinct after countless hours in dimly lit pubs and under arena spotlights.
Yet, amid the mishaps, something sparks. Littler’s eyes light up as he reflects on the session, the weight of Taylor’s arsenal feeling less like a burden and more like a bridge to greatness. “Possibly,” he says when pressed on switching permanently, his voice tinged with that infectious enthusiasm that’s won over fans worldwide. “I’ve always loved Phil’s darts, whatever he’s used. I think my dad tried a set he brought out years and years ago. For myself, I know I can stack [them perfectly in the bed], I know I can put them in flat. But, yeah, we’ll have to see in a few years, maybe, maybe. I’m getting excited now!” It’s a rare vulnerability from the teen who’s bulldozed through the PDC Tour like a force of nature, hinting at a willingness to evolve—even if it means honoring the icon whose shadow he aims to eclipse.
Littler’s 2025 has been nothing short of nuclear. At just 17 years and 347 days old, he became the youngest PDC World Darts Champion ever, storming to victory over Michael van Gerwen in January and pocketing a cool £500,000. That triumph was merely the opener in a symphony of success: six major titles in total, including the Nordic Darts Masters, where he dismantled local heroes with ruthless efficiency, and the World Matchplay, a grueling five-day marathon he clinched against James Wade in a final that had Blackpool’s Winter Gardens on its feet. He’s racked up wins that blend raw power with ice-cool composure, from the electric atmosphere of the Premier League to the precision demands of European Tour events. Off the board, he’s navigated the whirlwind of fame—cheeky Netflix confessions about post-victory indulgences aside—with a maturity that belies his age. But as Taylor often reminds him in their ongoing chats (the legend stays in touch with Littler’s family, dispensing nuggets like “strike fear into your rivals before they even step up”), true dominance demands more than talent. “Be scary or be sorry,” Taylor has urged, echoing his belief that Littler must instill intimidation to chase his 16 world crowns. “He will win more than me,” Taylor once predicted, a prophecy that hangs heavy as Littler eyes the upcoming World Grand Prix in Leicester.
For Taylor, now a revered elder statesman, watching Littler grapple with his darts is poetic justice. The Power’s career was built on such tweaks—endless experimentation that turned a Stoke-on-Trent lad into a global icon. His advice isn’t just tactical; it’s philosophical, urging Littler to avoid the pitfalls of complacency, much like the “Manchester United syndrome” he once warned against: early peaks followed by plateaus. In a sport where equipment can make or break a legacy—where a gram’s difference alters flight paths and confidence—Littler’s flirtation with change feels monumental. Will he commit? Only time, and perhaps a few more practice sessions, will tell. But as he hurtles toward another season of majors, one thing’s clear: the Nuke isn’t content with explosion; he’s plotting detonation on his own terms.
This challenge isn’t just about metal and wire—it’s the torch passing in real time, a reminder that darts’ greatest stories are forged in the tension between tradition and reinvention. With Taylor’s blueprint in hand and his own fire unquenched, Littler stands on the cusp of something seismic. The oche awaits, and the world is watching. (Word count: 1,028)
Leave a Reply