Bullseye!

How Storytelling Made Darts a Global Spectacle

Happy New Year, everyone! Over the holidays, I began thinking about how many of our biggest sporting occasions are intimately tied to seasonal traditions. For many Americans, Thanksgiving isn’t Thanksgiving without football—just as for the French, summer means the Tour de France, while, across the Channel, Londoners trek to Wimbledon for an annual ritual of strawberries, cream, and rain-delayed tennis. And increasingly, in the UK and Ireland, Christmas isn’t Christmas without darts—a unique blend of skill and spectacle that has gone from strength to strength over the past two decades. The World Darts Championship, broadcast from mid-December to early January, is now a fixture in many homes over the holiday season—a fascinating blend of medieval tradition and modern storytelling.

From medieval to mainstream

Darts is said to have originated with English medieval archers, who began throwing shortened arrows and crossbow bolts at cross-sectional tree trunks to pass the time between battles. The sport later became a popular indoor activity in taverns, where arrows were further shortened and overturned barrel bottoms were used as targets. One prominent early darts enthusiast was none other than Henry VIII, whose doomed second wife Anne Boleyn once gifted him a set of “dartes.”

Darts went mainstream in the early twentieth century. Dr. Patrick Chaplin, in his book Darts in England, 1900–39: A Social History, traces how it became one of the most popular recreational pastimes in England during the inter-war years, especially for working-class men. Enthusiasm for darts spread to the middle and upper classes during the 1930s—the BBC televised a darts tournament for the first time in 1936, and the King and Queen played darts during a royal appearance in Slough in 1937.

From boom to bust

The BBC began broadcasting darts tournaments regularly in the 1970s, leading to a “darts boom” in the 1980s, when players such as John Lowe, Jocky Wilson, and Eric Bristow (the “Crafty Cockney”) became household names. In 1983, Keith Deller, a 66/1 outsider, defeated tournament favorite Bristow in an epic World Championship final. Broadcast on a Saturday afternoon, the match attracted a record British audience of 8.3 million—around 15 percent of the population at that time. The following year, Lowe finished a “leg” (accomplished by subtracting scores from 501 points and ending on a double or bullseye) with the minimum possible nine darts, the first time the feat had been accomplished on television. Lowe received £100,000 for the feat, around £325,000 today.

The first darts boom faded in the early 1990s. The sport’s longstanding associations with pub culture, smoking, and drinking—and its heavy reliance on sponsorship from cigarette and alcohol companies—did not win the approval of newly health-conscious viewers. As broadcasters shifted focus to other sports perceived as more professional and commercially viable, the number of top tournaments waned, prize money decreased, and the future looked precarious. To the frustration of professional players, the British Darts Organisation (BDO), which then held a monopoly over the sport, cared more about fostering the amateur game than about reversing its professional decline; the BDO’s founder, Olly Croft, bluntly said “I don’t owe darts players a living.” In 1993, fed up with Croft and the BDO, 16 top professional players defected to form the rival Professional Darts Corporation (PDC), leading to an acrimonious “split in darts” that dragged on for years.

Barry Hearn and the power of storytelling

The staid BDO had deep roots in the traditional establishment, including longstanding contracts with the BBC. The newly formed PDC was a scrappy upstart run by Barry Hearn, best known as a boxing impresario. While the BDO was content with the status quo, Hearn sought to remake darts into a global spectacle. He did so by incorporating key storytelling elements. He first focused on creating ambiance and drama—darts players began parading to the stage in the style of boxers walking to the ring, bathed in blue light and accompanied by beautiful women and hand-picked music, amping up the drama. Second, Hearn wanted to see more conflict between players on stage. As the New York Times reported in 2018, he encouraged players to show their emotions while playing, upsetting the traditional etiquette of the game, but contributing to its appeal with viewers.

Hearn understood what the BDO did not—that, just as stories have protagonists and antagonists, professional sports thrives on characters who capture the imagination of fans. Some players are portrayed as heroes, while others, such as former rugby player Gerwyn Price, routinely antagonize opponents and polarize audiences, playing up their role as villains. Rivalries between players echo the classic tensions found in storytelling, creating ongoing storylines that keep fans invested—each encounter feels like a new chapter in an ongoing saga.

Hearn actively cultivated underdog stories, a perennial cornerstone of great storytelling. He understood that when a lesser-known player defeats an established star or makes an unexpected deep run in a competition, it mirrors classic tales of triumph against the odds. When Fallon Sherrock entered the 2020 World Championship, after years of earning paltry prize money in women’s events, no female player had ever won a match at a professional world championship. But Sherrock defeated two top players to reach the third round of the tournament, becoming a household name and earning the nickname “Queen of the Palace” (Alexandra Palace, where the tournament has been held since 2008). The following year, Sherrock defeated the world’s number five ranked player, Dimitri Van den Bergh, cementing her reputation as a dangerous opponent for male counterparts.

Another key aspect of Hearn’s storytelling success has been emphasizing his players’ typically working-class backgrounds, creating a relatable and inspiring narrative of success—such as that of Phil Taylor, who grew up in Stoke-on-Trent without running water or electricity and left school at 16 to manufacture ceramic toilet roll holders for £52 a week. After being mentored by Bristow, Taylor became a 16-time world champion and one of the UK’s most recognizable sportspeople.

Most importantly, Hearn actively cultivated a communal storytelling experience by encouraging audience engagement. Many fans now wear outlandish costumes—a bemused New York Times reporter at the most recent event witnessed “Willy Wonka and his Oompa Loompas; nuns; popes; a Jamaican bobsled team; bananas; traffic cones; super heroes; soccer players; and much more.” They sing and chant—“Walking in a Winter Wonderland” is a seasonal favorite. The raucous pandemonium is unlike any other sporting event. But the New York Times noted how the 90,000 tickets for the most recent world championship sold out within 15 minutes, with Hearn boasting: “I could’ve sold over 300,000.” This shows how Hearn and the PDC have succeeded in world-building—creating a unique environment that people crave to join.

Snakebite

A fan favorite is Peter “Snakebite” Wright, who was born in Scotland to a 16-year-old single mother. She moved to London when he was a baby, fearing that family members would take him away from her, but he still represents Scotland in sports. As a child, he threw darts at trees because he could not afford a board. After working for years as a car mechanic and tire fitter, he began to compete professionally in his late 30s and has since become a two-time world champion. Fully appreciating Hearn’s focus on storytelling and drama, he cultivated his “Snakebite” persona to overcome his natural shyness. For four hours before his matches, his hairdresser wife creates a colored mohawk. On one side of his head, she paints an elaborate snake. On the other side she paints a national flag or another pattern that represents the occasion. At one recent World Championship, Wright appeared for one of his pre-Christmas matches dressed as an elf.

Wright has commented that when he walks on stage, he is conscious of embracing his Snakebite personality. His appearances thus combine elements of the professional sportsperson and the method actor. He has objected to proposals to curb onstage celebrations during tournaments, telling the New York Times that “Otherwise we’ll all go up doing the same thing, all robots, no celebration, and people won’t watch it anymore,” he said. He understands what Hearn has taught: darts needs to be compulsive viewing. Compulsive is propulsive.

Littlermania

The PDC’s latest success story is that of Luke “The Nuke” Littler, who stormed to the final of the World Championship in January 2024 as an unknown 16-year-old and won the world title a year later with a dominant performance against three-time champion Michael van Gerwen. Littler turns 18 next Tuesday, making him by far the youngest world champion in darting history. He has already completed two nine-dart finishes, the youngest player ever to do so.

As a result of Littler’s success, the BBC notes, viewing figures, ticket sales and social media interest in darts have all exploded among young people. At Christmas, more than 100,000 British children were expected to receive magnetic dartboards branded with Littler’s image. The number of junior darts academies has doubled over the past year: “It took us 14 years to get 1,600 members and within 12 months we have over 3,000, and waiting lists,” Steve Brown, chairman of the Junior Darts Corporation, told the BBC. Speaking of the “Littler effect”, Brown said: “When I played darts as a child, I was embarrassed to tell my friends what my hobby was. All these kids playing darts now are pretty popular at school. It's a bit rock 'n roll and recognized as a cool thing to do.”

Just as The X-Files encouraged girls to pursue STEM careers, and The Hunger Games and The Queen’s Gambit encouraged girls to take up archery and chess, the drama of the PDC is now inviting a new generation to take up darts. And it is doing so expressly through the power of storytelling.

The “split in darts” has now faded into history. The BDO’s best players defected to the more lucrative PDC, and the BDO eventually went into liquidation in 2020. Hearn’s story-oriented and audience-focused approach transformed darts from a distinctly British pub pastime to a global sport. This may sound like a marketing success story, but it’s also a storytelling success story. Hearn understood what the BDO did not—that sporting drama (with all the requisite characters, rivalries, and conflicts) attracts audiences, audiences attract sponsors, and the money speaks for itself. “When I got involved in darts, the total prize money was something like £300,000 for the year. This year it will go to £20m. I expect in five years' time, we'll be playing for £40m,” says Hearn.

These lessons are central to our message for filmmakers in the Story Incubator Writing Lab. We emphasize that stories must be both compelling art and commercially viable projects. They must captivate and engage an audience—after all, even the most beautifully crafted film holds no value if no one sees it. While art matters, forging a meaningful connection with audiences is a pathway to global impact.