The Holsten Premier League hit Carlisle with its usual glitz and gladiatorial darts. Five hundred years ago English and Scottish reivers (brigands) fought and ravaged the lawless Border country by the torrential River Eden. Nothing much has changed; the weapons are smaller and the leaders of the charge are a stocky feisty Englishman and a tall smiling Dutchman.
Half an hour before his match with Peter Manley, Phil Taylor’s mind was a million miles away from the oche. I met him in the reception area of the Sands Centre checking that his daughters were at their stall selling his pictures at £20 a go. Things were going nicely said Natalie and The Power grinned.
He was still smiling after crushing Manley 8-1 with an average of 108. Poor old Pete; 102 average and blitzed. It was Taylor’s tit-for-tat for Barney stealing all the glory at Bournemouth with his nine darter. In his interview with Dave Clark he spoke of his marathon practice sessions with Adrian Lewis. ‘Dinner, dinner, don’t talk to me about dinner,’ cried The Power after Adrian suggested stopping after four hours.
‘But it’s Sunday,’ bleated his protégée.
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