The New Face of Darts

There was a peculiar period during the 80s when the world was transfixed by an array of sports, such as pool and snooker and boxing, all of which appeared to have spilled straight from the working men’s clubs and on to our television screens. Back then, it seemed only a matter of time before cock-fighting would be broadcast live every week night on BBC2.

Of all these, it was darts that seemed best to capture the nation’s imagination. A medieval game, believed to have its origins in archery training, much of darts’ modern reputation was forged by Bullseye, a prime-time ITV game show hosted by Jim Bowen, watched by 15 million viewers, and featuring the ever-tantalizing presence of "Bully", a cartoon bull in an ill-fitting polo shirt. Huge great wedges of men would throw darts to win the luxury caravans, and, in between bouts of chucking arrows, they would smoke furiously, with pints of bitter resting on their guts.

There were heroes of this netherworld, of course, who together formed a sort of Mount Rushmore of darts - such giants of the oche as Eric Bristow, Phil Taylor and Jocky Wilson, a 22-stone Scotsman who would consume more than his own body weight in beer and cigarettes during a match.

Ever since, darts has defied every effort to become fashionable. Drinking during matches was banned in 1991, and last year the game was finally recognized as an official sport by Sport England, but still the notion persisted that the game was little more than an activity to pursue while supping ale, and therefore only slightly more skilful than playing the fruit machine or eating crisps. That is, of course, until this week, when a new sort of darts hero came of age.

On Sunday, a tall, lean Dutchman named Jelle Klaasen, became at 21 the youngest world champion, beating compatriot and four-time reigning champion Raymond van Barneveld. Klaasen, also notable for having a lip-piercing and an attractive girlfriend, had entered the tournament as a 100-1 shot, and then weathered a tense final to take the £60,000 first prize.

So, just as the entire nation so recently proved surprisingly capable of grasping the finer points of cricket, it now seems likely that, with a new hero for a new generation, darts might just be reborn. If one required any further evidence, the seething rage displayed by Eric "the Crafty Cockney" Bristow in the wake of Klaasen’s victory said it all: "I’ve enjoyed being here and it’s been nice to watch some amateur darts," he cuttingly described the Lakeside World Championship. "I just hope," he added ominously, "whoever is looking after him doesn’t try to set up a unification match against Phil Taylor [the rival world champion] because Phil would kill him."

Awaiting a ferry back to Holland yesterday lunchtime, Klaasen appeared unruffled by the dark words of Bristow. "I think it is a good thing," he says of his win and the changing image of the game. "And I like it," he concludes, "it’s better for the younger people."

Astonishingly, Klaasen has only been playing darts for four years, picking up the arrows on a whim. "My uncle played darts for 15 years and I watched him a few times," he explains, gently. "And I thought, That’s a nice game, I might try it’." However, Klaasen’s mild-mannered exterior hides a steely determination. The first time he played, he was, he says, "not too bad, better than most of the guys ... but in a few weeks I could beat my uncle." Darts, he admits, swiftly became "an addiction". All he could think about was getting better and better.

Soon, he began playing in bigger tournaments, slowly growing in skill and stature until, a year and a half ago, his girlfriend, Yvanca, took him to a Dutch ranking tournament. "I reached the semi-finals," he says, "and after that she said I should do this; I should play more. So, really, it’s all down to her." Yvanca, a nurse, also enjoys playing darts. Is she good? "Ye-ah," Klaasen says hesitantly. "She’s not practicing a lot but if she does, she’s top of the women in Holland. She’s never beaten me, though."

The son of a hotel worker and a truck driver, Klaasen turned professional last December, abandoning a job as a security guard. "My parents are very proud [of what I have achieved]. When I won, my mother was crying, my father was very emotional; he hugged me." They were not, perhaps, overly surprised; their son having long displayed a passion for sports only outweighed by his fervent love for competition: "I like to play pool, snooker, tennis," he reels off. "And every sport that I want to play, I want to win. I think that’s what’s important: to be the winner."

In Holland, it seems the world of darts has not been tainted by the memory of Bullseye. There is no direct translation, it appears, for the much-loved Bowen catchphrase, "Can’t beat a bit of Bully."

"Darts," says Klaasen, "is more popular in Holland than in England. Lots of young people play, as well as the very old. It became popular among the young people because of Raymond [van Barneveld]." However, he had no qualms about beating the national hero. "We wished each other good luck," he says, of the final. "But I felt very pleased when I won. It’s not nice for him, but you have to think about yourself in a competition."

Apart from bare-knuckle fighting, darts was perhaps the last sport in which the British truly excelled at an international level. So why does Klaasen think the Dutch are now proving so much better? "I like British darts, Mervyn King, Tony West ..." he says by way of reassurance. "But the British players have a different style - the Dutch guys: our maths is better, we calculate better, faster."

Is this because the Dutch players are more lithe and less booze-addled? He chuckles. "That’s not how it is in Holland. There are more young people playing darts and most players don’t drink alcohol, and, like me, they’re not so big." Indeed, it is the huge contrast between Klaasen and the darts players of popular British imagination that has been most striking. Not only does he fail to knock back 17 pints during the course of a match, he has in fact been drunk just once in his young life. "Once, and that’s the last time!" he laughs "It was three years ago at New Year, I drank a lot of shots and other drinks, so everything mixed and it was not so good."

Klaasen’s unusual appearance has also raised a few eyebrows: "I got the lip-piercing a month ago. I like it," he says by way of simple explanation. "I have more, and a tribal tattoo." And now he is the world champion, is he under pressure to look more conventional, don a polo shirt, or at least acquire a bit of a beer-belly? "No. I want to be myself," he shrugs, "and no one can change that".