The Oktoberhallen in Nieuwkerken-Waas pulsed with electric tension on a crisp March evening in 2025, as the Belgian Darts Open unfolded under the glaring lights of the PDC European Tour. This annual showdown, a melting pot of international talent where precision meets passion, drew a fervent crowd eager for high-stakes showdowns and the occasional nine-dart miracle. Amid the symphony of walk-on anthems and the sharp thud of arrows hitting the board, one match in the second round stole the spotlight—not for its blistering averages or clinical checkouts, but for a post-match confrontation that left jaws on the floor and tongues wagging across the darts world.
Stephen Bunting, the affable world number six from St Helens known affectionately as “The Bullet,” entered the fray riding a wave of quiet determination. At 39, Bunting has long been a fan favorite for his pinpoint accuracy and unassuming demeanor, but 2025 had been a testing ground for the Englishman. Winless in the Premier League after five grueling nights, he’d endured a string of narrow defeats that chipped away at his confidence like a poorly aimed dart. Yet, darts being the unpredictable beast it is, redemption lurked just one throw away. Facing off against Jermaine Wattimena, the fiery Dutchman with a reputation for explosive play and unfiltered emotion, Bunting found himself in a classic tale of resilience.
Wattimena, no stranger to the European Tour’s pressures, stormed out of the gates like a bull in Pamplona. The 36-year-old from Amsterdam, who had breezed through his first-round opener against Patrick De Backer with a solid 91.91 average, raced to a commanding 3-0 lead. His arrows flew with the precision of a metronome, each 180 drawing roars from the Belgian faithful who always appreciate a bit of continental flair. Bunting, by contrast, appeared tentative, his throws measured but lacking the killer instinct that had once propelled him to a World Grand Prix triumph in 2014. The crowd shifted uncomfortably in their seats, sensing an upset in the making. Whispers rippled through the arena: Was this the night The Bullet’s season finally flatlined?
But darts, much like life, has a knack for dramatic turnarounds. Bunting, drawing on years of hard-earned experience, began to claw his way back. A gritty break of throw here, a nerveless 121 checkout there—suddenly, the momentum had flipped. Wattimena’s rhythm faltered under the weight of his own expectations, his once-lethal scoring dipping into the low 80s. Bunting, sensing blood, reeled off six legs on the trot, sealing a 6-3 victory with a cool double 20 that echoed like a victory bell. The average? A respectable 92.34 for Bunting, enough to book his ticket to Sunday’s third round against the wily Daryl Gurney, who had dispatched Danny Noppert 6-2 earlier in the day. For Bunting, it was more than points on the Order of Merit; it was a lifeline, a reminder that perseverance in this sport isn’t about flawless starts but ferocious finishes.
As the final arrow kissed the wire, Bunting extended his hand in the time-honored tradition of sportsmanship—a simple gesture amid the adrenaline haze. What followed, however, shattered the script. Wattimena, his face etched with frustration, bypassed the handshake entirely. Instead, he launched into a heated exchange, his words sharp and accusatory, finger jabbing the air as he unloaded on a visibly stunned Bunting. The Englishman stood frozen, arm outstretched like a statue in a storm, his expression a cocktail of confusion and hurt. As Wattimena stormed off toward the wings, Bunting turned to the crowd, shrugging his shoulders in bewilderment, mouthing silent pleas for explanation. The referee, ever the diplomat, stepped in for a belated clasp of hands, but the damage was done. The arena, usually a cauldron of cheers, fell into an awkward hush, broken only by the murmur of shocked spectators.
Viaplay’s Dutch commentator, Jacques Nieuwlaat, cut through the tension with a theory that quickly became the talk of the tour. “It might have something to do with the pace of play,” Nieuwlaat observed, his voice steady amid the chaos. “Bunting was taking his time, and that can get under your skin in a tight match.” Indeed, as the replay footage circulated online, eagle-eyed fans noted Bunting’s deliberate routine—measuring each throw, resetting his stance with the focus of a surgeon. In a sport where rhythm is king, such deliberation can feel like psychological warfare, even if unintended. Wattimena, known for his own methodical style, might have seen it as gamesmanship, a subtle slow-down to disrupt his flow during that crucial comeback stretch.
Up on the stage for his post-match interview, Bunting’s composure cracked, revealing the raw emotion of a man who’d poured his soul into every leg. His voice trembled as he addressed the elephant in the room, eyes glistening under the spotlights. “He was telling me that I’d done something wrong,” Bunting began, his words measured but laced with disbelief. “I’ve got a lot of respect for Jermaine and I didn’t expect that at the end of the game.” The crowd leaned in, hanging on every syllable as The Bullet bared his vulnerability. “I tried my best to win the game, and I thought it was just a normal game. He picked up on something, I don’t know what it was, but I’ll have a word with him backstage. There was no malice in my game. You’ve known me for many years now, and I’m not that type of player to play mind games on people.”
It was a moment of pure authenticity, the kind that humanizes the superhumans of the oche. Bunting, who’d risen from the Challenge Tour ranks to rub shoulders with darts royalty like Michael van Gerwen and Luke Humphries, has always been the everyman’s hero—approachable, unpretentious, with a laugh that could disarm a rival. This wasn’t bravado; it was heartbreak, the sting of an accusation from a peer he admired. As he wiped away a stray tear, the applause swelled, a collective embrace from fans who’d witnessed his battles firsthand. “I’m not that sort of player,” he reiterated, his voice steadying like a dart finding its mark. In that vulnerability lay strength, a testament to why Bunting endures in a sport that chews up and spits out the faint-hearted.
The incident rippled far beyond the Oktoberhallen’s walls, igniting debates on social media and in darts pubs from Liverpool to Amsterdam. Was Wattimena’s outburst a bad loser’s lament, or a legitimate gripe against perceived gamesmanship? Supporters of The Bullet flooded timelines with defenses: “Stephen’s pace is just focus, not foul play,” one fan posted. Others sympathized with Wattimena’s frustration, pointing to the Dutchman’s own history of on-stage intensity. Yet, amid the chatter, Bunting chose grace over grudge. The very next day, March 9, he took to X—formerly Twitter—to break his silence publicly, a concise message that cut through the noise: “Cleared the air with Jermaine. All good now. Onwards and upwards. #TheBullet.”
True to his word, reports emerged of a backstage heart-to-heart, where the two pros hashed it out like gentlemen, burying any lingering tension under mutual respect. Wattimena, for his part, later acknowledged the heat of the moment in a brief statement, praising Bunting’s talent while owning his emotional slip. It was a resolution that underscored the darts community’s tight-knit ethos—rivalries fierce, but friendships forged in the fire of competition.
As the Belgian Darts Open rolled into its second day, Bunting channeled the drama into fuel. Facing Gurney, he dispatched the Northern Irishman 6-4, his averages climbing to 95.12, a sign that the controversy had sharpened rather than dulled his edge. The tournament itself brimmed with subplots: Local heroes like Dimitri Van Den Bergh and Mike De Decker chased glory on home soil, while Martin Schindler and Luke Humphries vied for supremacy in a field stacked with 48 of the world’s elite. Even prodigy Luke Littler made waves, though his path crossed no direct drama.
For Bunting, the Belgian Open marked a turning point in a season that had tested his mettle. That uncomfortable exchange, far from derailing him, became a catalyst—a reminder that in darts, as in life, the real targets are resilience and respect. As he eyes the Premier League’s sixth night, The Bullet is reloaded, his quiver full of lessons from Nieukerk. In a sport where every leg is a story, Bunting’s chapter just got a lot more compelling. Will he silence the doubters with a deep run, or pen another twist? One thing’s certain: fans are strapped in for the ride.
Leave a Reply