Opening day honours at the latest Players Championship double-header went the way of Wessel Nijman, claiming his sixth floor title of what is becoming a remarkable season.
Having won in Wigan two months ago, the Dutchman is becoming one of just a few people on the planet who actually relish a trip to the Lancashire town. They may not be famed for their beautiful scenery, architecture or wonderful museums, but if a meat and potato pie is your thing, they have you covered.
Back to the darts and Wessel – despite not being at his often-ridiculous best – defeated Ryan Searle 8-6 in a high-quality showdown. However, off went Heavy Metal, coat on despite the muggy conditions, bag draped over his shoulder and his flowing brown locks fluttering gloriously in the Wigan breeze like a shampoo advert filmed on an industrial estate, sauntering back to his temporary abode a cool £10,000 richer.
I have to give a mention to the opening afternoon semi-finalists, Jonny Clayton and Beau Greaves. And not purely because they both begrudgingly purchased a copy of my brand-new novel, but because they played extremely well.
The Ferret rattled in three ton-plus averages, taking his seasonal tally on the floor to sixteen. But it’s highly unlikely he will be aware of any fact, since when he returned to the hotel, he didn’t even have a clue what he was defending this year. So I checked for him. Turns out, not much, which seemed to please him even more. That’s when I decided it was the perfect time to pounce and sell him the book.
As for Beau, another outstanding display from the Doncaster ace saw her prevented from reaching the final by eventual champion Nijman. Still, she seemed relatively pleased and joining her on this particular road trip was her lovely partner. Not sure how that conversation went down. Hardly a romantic getaway. The conversation probably went something like, “Eh up chuck, fancy a couple of days in Wigan, love?” delivered in a thick Yorkshire accent that couldn’t make the turquoise lagoons of a tropical paradise such as Bora Bora sound appealing. Still, even if it wasn’t the juiciest of carrots to dangle, it clearly did the trick.
That said, the kid did amazingly well as she normally goes when rocks up at anything darts related.
So having satisfied myself with a few sales and a good catch-up with Duzza, who has more eggs in his darting basket these days than Tesco have Easter ones on the shelves just after Christmas, it was onto day two – or as we like to call it in England – Wednesday.
And to everyone’s relief, except Wessel Nijman’s, he exited early, losing a last-leg decider in the board final to Alexander Merkx, who then didn’t have to buy another pint for the rest of the afternoon. Shock? Yes – darts players drink when working.
That still left a hell of a lot of world-class players in the field and, when Merkx began to beat a few, his trips to the bar became more frequent. Until, that was, the end of his quarter-final, which brings me nicely on to the champion, Rob Cross.
Voltage hadn’t won on the floor since the opening event of 2025 – and that was also at Robin Park. He’s bagged a World Series crown – the Dutch Darts Masters – but for someone of his calibre, oddly, diddly-squat since.
Of course, that now all goes out the window like a television in Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher’s hotel room after picking off Maik Kuivenhoven 8-5 for the title. This was the Dutchman’s first ever Players Championship final and whilst he may well feel a little pissed off right now, I am sure when he gets home to the land of clogs and sees his bank account has risen by £10,000, he will be reasonably happy. As will Tom Bissell who, for the fourth time this year, reached the semi-finals. However, as an Englishman, he resides in a place with far fewer windmills, tulips and access to certain adult pursuits. Although, being from Dudley in the West Midlands, I wouldn’t be too sure on that.
Victory virtually puts Cross into the Matchplay – a tournament he famously won in 2019. Unless he gets kidnapped by a group of fanatics targeting bald blokes with cockney accents, he should be in Blackpool. That said, I’ve been to that town and, to be honest, the alternative could seem better.
Oh, almost forgot. Huge congrats to little Dorset dude Tommy Morris, who reached his first ever quarter-final. In the end, he met the same fate that most northern motorists suffer at one time or another – having the wheels beneath him taken by a Scouser.
Only joking, Mr Bunting!
