Talking bull on a Power trip
Better known, of course, as The Power, the current PDC kingpin, is sitting across from me in a Dublin hotel, sipping carefully on a herbal tea and absent-mindedly flicking lint from his show-time blue-and-white, nickname-emblazoned shirt, which is hung from the back of a chair.
Early yesterday morning, I slipped from my bed at 5.30am (there’s one in the morning too?!), got on the road to the capital, and brimming with nerves, made my way to a date with destiny — I was promised the chance to take on Taylor at the oche.
But how does one train for a tilt at this windmill? Darts stars were once renowned for drinking a small child’s weight in alcohol during games, usually dripping with cheap gold-looking jewellery and inked with crude tattoos, no longer fill the stereotype quite so comfortably. So a quiet weekend is out of the question ahead of our meeting.
Regardless of preparation however, like so many young hopefuls on the circuit, The Power delivered a sharp, short shock to my aspirations.
The thousand-yard stare which greeted me in the hotel lobby not only communicated that a) it didn’t matter that I forgot to bring arrows, as he’d not be swinging an arm in anger this morning b) never — and remember this — approach darts’ nocturnal superstars at an hour when breakfast is still being served and c) Taylor and the world’s great athletes like Woods, Schumacher and, indeed, Keane are at home in the same madhouse.
“I like Roy, he’s a winner,” Taylor says after we settle down for a chat in a seat rather than in front of a board, while Eric Bristow is around the corner perusing a front-page newspaper story about druids cursing the Ipswich Town manager.
Despite Taylor’s insistence that he ‘likes’ Keane, he tells a story that betrays the red-hot motivation that smoulders even now after so many years of success in his field. After winning the big prize for an unprecedented eight years in a row, the Stoke-on-Trent man lost in 2003 to John Part. Though the wound was still raw, Taylor accepted an invitation to tour Manchester United’s Carrington training complex some weeks later. Ushered into the gym as the champions went through their warm down, Taylor was introduced to the group. “Lads, say hello to Phil Taylor, eight-time darts world champion.”
“Former world champion,” interjected Keane from an overworked exercise bike that billowed smoke into the Neville brothers’ faces.
The barb, which prompted a chorus of giggles from the United players, certainly stung Taylor’s still-raw ego. But Taylor filed it under ‘M’ for motivation and went back to win four more titles since.
He can appreciate a champion’s obsessive-compulsive relationship with success.
“I did a piece with a US magazine some time ago, Sports Illustrated?”
“I’m familiar with it, The Power. May I call you The Power?” I don’t interrupt.
“And they were interviewing the top guys: Tiger, Federer, all of them, about dominating their sport. And the guy said to me after I answered his questions: ‘Phil, you’ve given me the same answers as them.’ We’re the same. It’s that drive and determination.
“But practice is the key. There’s no secret, I wish there was, but it’s just practice,” he says.
And though Taylor earns his crust on the big stage at the ‘Ally Pally’ in north London in front of the Sky cameras and a baying mob of an audience, it’s in a modest box room in suburban Stoke that he hones his skills.
A pair of Amir Khan’s fight shorts hang in a frame, scribbled sports psychology advice is pinned to the wall and a tape recorder pumps artificial crowd noise.
“When I’m practising it’s from nine to 11, one until three, five until 6.30, and 10.30 to 11.30,” he says. “But that’s not the case at the moment ‘cos I’ve been travelling. I came back from South Africa recently and it took me four days to get over it.
“I play the noise because before when you were on a nine-dart finish you used to be able to hear a pin drop. Now it’s mayhem,” he says.
I once had to walk a well-known English film actor from one end of O’Connell Street to the other on a busy summer’s afternoon. One who these days fills the roles of the more mature characters on the silver screen, we were accompanied by his girlfriend. She was my age. An interesting looking three-ball, the recognisable actor drew innumerable stares and comedy double-takes.
As Taylor moves through the Citywest hotel, which hosts the £350,000 Skybet World Grand Prix, until the final on Sunday, pro darts fans can’t help but watch and nudge each other, while deliberating on whether to approach the champ. It must be difficult to relax when you’re the star attraction in a travelling circus?
“Today, I’m going to head in and do some shopping for the day. I know Dublin and I like it but I can’t really relax at the moment as I’m so busy. I watch a bit of cricket — the 20-20, rather than the Test stuff, and footie (he’s a Port Vale fan) and that’s me.”
He’s proud of the background he came from. His family were so poor that they lived, ironically for a character now earning his money as The Power, in a house with no electricity; his father hotwired the next door neighbours’ metre. When he hit the big time he first bought his family houses and only recently upgraded himself. He insists money is not what he plays for.
“I was lucky. I didn’t get into darts until I was 30. So first all I have no distractions because I’d done it all by the time I was 30 and I’m not really motivated by money. For me it’s about dedication. Practice, practice, practice — and the real fun is in competing.”
I wouldn’t know, this morning. But there’s always next year, champ. Just ask Roy.
* Love the column? Hate the column? Got a suggestion for one? Adrian.russell@examiner.ie twitter: @adrianrussell
