Dutch darting deity Michael van Gerwen claimed what is probably now his one millionth PDC title, defeating Luke Humphries in an enthralling Nordic Masters final in a more dramatic manner than your average Premier League footballer attempting to con a referee into awarding a penalty kick.
Once the undisputed emperor of the tungsten kingdom, the Netherlands’ greatest export after clogs, diamonds and questionable Eurovision entries now resides somewhere between merely still-better-than-most and utterly terrifying. He is no longer the industrial wrecking ball that flattened all before him during his peak years. However, on the right evening, Mighty Mike remains more than capable of reducing an entire retail park’s worth of garden sheds to splinters without breaking sweat.
And over two days in Copenhagen, this proved to be a perfect example. It also offered a captivating insight into the latest bewildering garments excavated from the enigmatic wardrobe of commentator and newly-wed Chris Mason. More colourful than a Pride festival inside an exploding paint factory, his outfits continue to occupy that curious territory between haute couture and a man who lost a bet with a Dulux colour chart.
The Green Machine – who these days wears a predominantly black shirt solely to bewilder newcomers wondering how on earth the nickname came about – began proceedings in fairly pedestrian fashion on Friday evening.
Poor Oskar Lukasiak had only recently registered his first Players Championship victory of the season. So naturally, fate rewarded him by throwing Michael van Gerwen in front of a packed Danish audience who adore the Dutchman almost as much as airport security appreciates people arriving with bottles of shampoo over 100ml.
Still, expectations were hardly overwhelming for the Swede and, truth be told, had he found something close to his best form, there was perhaps an upset lurking. Van Gerwen, whose head appeared approximately 28% shinier than usual, simply did what was required and cruised serenely to a 6-2 success. Lukasiak, who may well have been temporarily dazzled by the reflections emanating from his opponent’s bonce, failed even to reach the 80-average mark. Mighty Mike barely ventured beyond second gear.
Before continuing, a quick observation.
I knew Cor Dekker was tall. However, standing alongside Luke Littler, the Norwegian appeared less professional darts player and more escaped Nordic giant. In fact, he resembled what Mark Webster might look like if someone had accidentally selected “stretch vertically” on Photoshop. At that altitude, Dekker probably represents a legitimate concern for low-flying aircraft and migratory geese during his morning stroll for the newspaper.
Back to Van Gerwen and, courtesy of Viktor Tingstrom’s shock victory over defending champion Stephen Bunting, it was back-to-back Swedish opponents for the Dutchman.
Like his compatriot Oskar, Tingstrom is hardly setting the Pro Tour alight in 2026. Yet in slight contrast to Lukasiak, he had at least discovered where the winning postcode was located on occasions. In fact, he had won precisely one-third of his matches this season. Which, admittedly, was one-third more than Oskar had managed before arriving in Milton Keynes a few days ago.
Once again, this was the version of Van Gerwen that appeared vulnerable. Very vulnerable at times. So vulnerable, in fact, that for a while it looked as though Victor Meldrew could have fancied his chances if he’d brought his cardigan and bifocals.
But come the semi-finals and, as they say, cometh the bald monster. Suddenly the old Michael appeared. The one darts players used to encounter shortly before updating their sat-nav for the journey home. Jonny Clayton found himself on the receiving end of a trademark ton-plus average as Van Gerwen crushed The Ferret – which, before animal lovers write in, remains purely metaphorical and not an actual member of the mustelid family.
Awaiting MVG in the final was the formidable Luke Humphries.
It is fair to say the world number two had negotiated the considerably more treacherous route. Comparing Humphries’ path with Van Gerwen’s was akin to contrasting a leisurely Sunday stroll through a tranquil meadow, pausing occasionally to admire deer drinking from a crystal lake, with an excursion across no man’s land and a muddy field liberally strewn with landmines.
First up came Jeffrey de Graaf, one of the few Nordic and Baltic representatives to have recently captured a Players Championship title. Unfortunately for the Dutch-born Swede, Humphries chose that particular evening to average somewhere close to 110 and played with such authority that he practically skipped over those aforementioned landmines with such effortless conviction that even Chuck Norris would surely have nodded in approval.
Thereafter, Humphries edged past Gian van Veen before overcoming Luke Littler in arguably the finest encounter of the weekend. It was, by my calculations, approximately the 352nd meeting between the pair over the last few months. I exaggerate of course. Slightly.
By the time the final arrived late on Saturday evening, Michael van Gerwen’s head was reflecting more-light than the Sun. Between himself and Cor Dekker, Copenhagen’s air traffic controllers were beginning to look concerned.
I won’t bore you with every intricate detail. Suffice to say, it was precisely the sort of contest you hoped it would be. High quality, nerve-shredding and stretched to its full complement of legs before Van Gerwen pinched victory to secure an eighteenth World Series title.
Which brings me neatly – and completely out of context – to Forrest Gump. When Tom Hanks famously uttered the immortal words, “life is like a box of chocolates, you don’t know what you’re gonna get”, he was, quite clearly, experiencing some strange prophetic vision concerning a certain Dutch darts player in the 2020s.
Because with Michael van Gerwen these days, you genuinely never know. Sometimes you get the version that appears about as threatening as a mildly irritated librarian. And sometimes you get the shiny headed destroyer – not a euphemism. This weekend we witnessed both.
