Interview: Phil Taylor

'The baggage of celebrity," Phil Taylor sighs, "can be very heavy." The world's greatest darts player sinks back into a plush leather chair at the Paddington Hilton and contemplates his surreal fate. "You're a target for everybody. If you let it get to you, the world can suddenly seem a very wicked place. You have to harden yourself. I'm not as trusting now and that's a real shame because I'm a very open person. But when you get to a certain level you have to start growing up a little - just like Michael Jackson has got to do now."

Taylor has an endearingly bizarre habit. He mentions the most famous and inappropriate celebrities while describing his own level of stardom.

"Expectations are enormous. You put a huge amount of pressure on yourself. And people phone up saying they've put money on you and then it turns out that the whole street, and half the Potteries, have a bet on you to win the world championship for an 11th time. Daft things like that creep up on you. I don't get an eighth of the attention of David Beckham, but it's still pretty heavy."

"Well," I say, trying to bolster the King of Darts, while adding a reassuring realism to his starry appeal, "I guess you don't have to put up with even a 50th of the stuff Beckham goes through daily."

"Yeah," Taylor muses, seemingly unsure whether to sound relieved or disappointed at this relentless fractioning away of his fame, "you're probably right."

Taylor, however, is unfazed when fevered imaginations describe him as the Don Bradman or Tiger Woods of darts. He has won the world championship 10 times - twice the British Darts Organisation title and, on eight occasions, the Professional Darts Corporation version he is determined to regain over the next week in Purfleet. Taylor has won twice as many world titles as his closest rival, Eric Bristow. It explains why he prefers to compare himself to dominant icons from other sports.

"I'm a little like Roy Keane. Mentally I'm very strong. I'm very hungry. I'm very dedicated. You can't throw me off my stride. That's how I break people. I just don't care what they do. They can throw 180, 180 and 180 again and I'm like, 'so what?' They've got to keep it up to beat me. Inside I'm actually a lot like Roy Keane - I'm very aggressive. I know exactly what I need to finish them off.

"It's like a fight. You walk through this screaming crowd at the start and you've got one thing on your mind. Get on and off stage a winner as quick as you can. It's like Mike Tyson at his best. No matter how hard his opponents trained, inside that ring they saw him and felt the fear. You could see them thinking, 'oh, shit, I wish I had trained even harder.' They knew he was going to hurt them.

"It's the same when I'm up there. People are determined to play well against me because they don't want to look silly and lose 6-0. But then, when I'm playing my best, it's weird. Their heads drop and it's like they're suddenly frightened."

Taylor may still be the world No1 but, tomorrow, his quest to renew the full extent of his former dominance resumes. "Roy Keane gave me the smartest reminder that I lost the last final. I was being shown around the Man United training ground and this young lad took me into the gym. Keane was on the treadmill and the boy went over and told him I was the world champion. Roy looked at me, took a great big sniff, and said ' ex -world champion... ' What an attitude. Winning's all that counts. I said 'thanks, son!' because me and Roy have spoken often in the past."

When asked to assess his world title loss in a titanic clash against Canada's John Part, Taylor sounds melancholic. "I was jaded. I'd had 14 years at the top, won it 10 times and everything just overwhelmed me. I'd been through a terrible year. My dad died, my daughter lost a baby and I was getting over that court case. That's when some celebrities go silly and become druggies or alcoholics. I never did, but it cost me my world championship."

In October 1999, Taylor was accused by two female darts fans of "indecently groping" them in his camper van during an exhibition tour of Scotland. Insisting on his innocence, despite the £2,000 fine he was eventually made to pay by the Scottish courts in May 2001, Taylor reiterates his belief that he was the victim of a tabloid smear.

"I was devastated. I'd made a little money and a little name for myself and suddenly people assume I'm nasty or big-headed. I considered suicide. One night I sat upstairs and thought, 'I've had enough'. That's when my wife, Yvonne, and my mates rallied round and looked after us. I came through it. I was lucky that my celebrity status built up slowly over the last 14 years. It's different for these young footballers. They have fame thrust on them - bang - and they don't know how to cope. I survived. I want my world title back now. It belongs to me."

Taylor's legacy is built on a hard-edged work ethic which simply does not square with the stereotypical image of the beer-swilling darts masters of the past. "I've always stood out," he explains, "because I rarely drink. I go to the gym. I look after myself. But I've set an example to the new breed of darts players. They're now more like boxers locking themselves away. It's tough for me because these young lads practise hard and go to bed early. They see a good living in the game. Meanwhile, I'm out on the road three nights a week, doing exhibitions, getting back to the hotel at midnight and then up early to drive to the next town. It's not the ideal preparation for a world championship."

When asked why he continues to flog himself on the exhibition circuit, Taylor responds with a question of his own: "Would you turn down a grand a night? I do 120 to 150 exhibitions a year. My manager, Barry Hearn, would like me to do one a week. He usually gets me £2,000 a night. But I can't say 'no'. It's being working class. When you've worked, like I did, earning 70 quid a week for making toilet and beer pump handles, you can't turn down a grand a night. The world championship is different. If I win I'll get a cheque for £50,000, but that's not why I want my title back. It's far more important than money."

While winning his first BDO world championship in 1990, Taylor earned less than half that amount. "£24,000 seemed like a fortune then. I was on the dole. I won the title on a Sunday and turned up on Tuesday to sign on. They told me to bog off. They'd seen me on telly. Since then I've just worked and worked. I can't stop. I'd say I was probably happier before I became world champion because the last 14 years have been the hardest of my life. Before darts I never lived in a big house or owned a new car or went on holiday. But I had more dreams back then. I'm not a dreamer now. I have to be totally professional."

At least Taylor can claim to be the fourth most famous star from Stoke. He is miles ahead of Dave Harold, the obscure snooker player, but still some way behind "real celebrities like Anthea Turner, Robbie Williams and Stanley Matthews".

I suggest that Matthews, apart from being dead, was too old and great a footballer to have been tarred with the modern brush of celebrity. "He was a terrific player," the Port Vale-loving Taylor concedes before confirming that, apart from meeting Robbie Williams, they lived in the same street and went to the same school. "I'm a bit older than Robbie," the 43-year-old admits, "but I know his dad very well."

Outside the hotel, unlike Robbie Williams or David Beckham, we are not followed or mobbed. We struggle instead to hail a cab to take Taylor to his next media engagement - a photo opportunity with David Campese in a south London pub. We're mildly disappointed. Black taxis sweep down either side of Praed Street. None screech to a stop to demand the privilege of our custom. On a mundane December morning not even the trudging pedestrians of Paddington seem to notice us.

"It's not like this in the Potteries," Taylor laughs grimly.

No one steals even a sidelong glance at Taylor's huge friend from Stoke. The lower half of Sean Rutter's right ear is missing. "Chewed off by a mad girlfriend," the deadpan Rutter says when I ask him what happened.

"I tell everyone Sean's just got out of prison," Taylor says. "He got a 'ear off for good behaviour."

It's hard not to groan as people still saunter casually past, too cool to look straight at Phil "The Power" Taylor dressed dashingly in a dappled grey sports jacket, a black shirt, silver tie, sensible trousers and trainers.

"I'm going to buy me some shoes as soon as we get to Borough," Taylor promises. "Can't have some Aussie looking smarter than me."

At last a flunky from the Hilton steps in and takes charge. We climb into a taxi and Taylor veers off on a tangent. Who do we consider to be the most beautiful Australian celebrity?

"Kylie?" he ponders. "That Natalie? Or who's that other gorgeous one off the telly?"

"Holly Valance... "

"Ooo-yeah," Rutter says, tugging at the remains of his ear, "that's her."

"I had that Natalie Imbruglia sitting in the back a while ago," the cab driver reveals as he looks at Taylor, "exactly where you are, mate."

Taylor chuckles as he nestles down, as if it makes perfect sense for the Prince of the Potteries to share a seat with one of the divas from Neighbours.

In a small pub called The George, off Borough High Street, Taylor waits in his new shoes for a faded Australian rugby legend. He has owned them for less than five minutes. His desire to regain his championship has, for the moment, been set aside. He should be back home in Stoke, throwing his little arrows through the air, but he can't resist the chance to swap some frothy banter with Campese.

The Don of Darts, the Roy Keane of the Oche, slips out of his jacket and tie. He steps into the small pool of light shining from the pub dartboard to have his photograph taken.

"Be nice to me," Taylor says as he stretches out his hand to say goodbye.

Campese has just arrived. As I duck through the narrow doorway leading out into the pale winter sunshine I look back once more at The Power. There are only six other people in the pub, but Taylor is beaming. He's twinkling. He's a sporting celebrity again, talking rugby and darts to David Campese, icon to icon, star to star.