North America, take a bow. After an electrifying weekend where more arrows were fired with accuracy than Robin Hood giving a masterclass in Sherwood Forest after three cans of some medieval energy drink, there could only be two champions.

But in truth, we witnessed sixteen real winners. And no, before anyone writes in, that isn’t one of those primary school sports day “everyone gets a participation medal” speeches. They genuinely all contributed to a cracking weekend.

Before the climax of the US Masters took place, the eight top oche aficionados from the home continent took to the iconic Madison Square Garden stage, battling for the prestigious North American Championship.

On the line – a trip to the temple of tungsten – the sacred darting holy ground which is Alexandra Palace. Also, a spot at the Grand Slam was up for grabs too, where a trip to Wolverhampton will be quite an eye-opener. Even the dogs walk around in pairs there after dark. Not because they’re lonely – just sensible.

Anyway, that privilege was bestowed upon Adam Sevada, who overcame Jim Long in the final courtesy of a convincing 6-1 scoreline. The Reaper began his campaign with the only ton-plus performance of the tournament, an emphatic whitewash over Alex Spellman before getting past Gary Mawson in the semi-finals. It was ruthless stuff. If darts had a mercy rule, Adam would probably have ignored it anyway.

For the Canadian, Jim Long – and the man who makes Superman’s air-mile tally look low – he cruised past compatriot Brayden Hall before surviving a match dart in a dramatic last-leg decider to give Fred Krueger nightmares. That’s it now for the Elm Street-related jokes.

Pity for Freddie, he was going to use the winnings to get his nails done in London too. That would have taken care of most of the Ally Pally qualification prize pot. There’d probably have barely been enough left over for a decent hand cream.

Fans in the Garden hoping for a real USA versus Canada showdown were left slightly disappointed as, in a one-sided affair, Sevada ran away with the contest, punishing Long’s missed doubles with all the sympathy a dog shows after he’s crapped all over the neighbour’s lawn. Or a cat shows after pushing your favourite ornament off the shelf whilst maintaining full eye contact.

It’s a quick return to the PDC World Championship for Adam. Last year, he defeated the Ginger Ninja, Matt Campbell – who is about as much of a ninja as I am an astronaut – before bowing out to Charlie Manby. Congratulations to The Reaper and well done to everyone who qualified. Just getting there is an achievement in itself.

Then there was the small matter of the US Masters reaching its climax. All the North American lads could finally put their feet up and enjoy the action. All except Jim Long who, after defeating Josh Rock, was handed the unenviable task of facing Luke Littler in the curtain-raiser. Which is a bit like successfully climbing Everest only to discover there’s another one directly behind it.

Try as Jim may, it wasn’t to be. Littler did what Littler does – knocked in a ton-plus average and allowed Jim to catch up with his mates at the bar, feeling like many a darts player before him has over the past couple of years. Nuked to death on the oche. There’s no shame in that. Plenty of world-class players have ended up as collateral damage.

I have to say, in terms of averages higher than the combined IQ of Albert Einstein and his mates having a coffee together, it was staggering. In almost every match, both players rattled in three-figure averages. Long gone are the days where anything over a hundred would win you a World Championship, a lifetime supply of lager and cigarettes. Nowadays, it often doesn’t even guarantee you the next round. The standard is utterly ridiculous.

So, in summary, after Long had returned to catch up with the other seven Stateside boys, Wadey beat The Iceman. The Bullet did a Stephen Bunting special – played brilliantly, registered north of a ton average, yet still lost – albeit to reigning US Masters champion Luke Humphries.

And thankfully, Gian van Veen looked back to his frightening best, seeing off Jonny Clayton. I don’t advise kidney stone surgery if you can help it. But thankfully, the young Dutchman looks fully recovered and once again ready to torment The Ferret and every other animal monikered related chuckers.

Into the semi-finals. Littler – who last year twice defeated James Wade in major televised ranking finals – beat him again, this time dragging him all the way across the Atlantic for the privilege. However, Wadey would have been delighted simply to be back on World Series duty. More than deserving, given his remarkable career and achievements.

There you go, mate. The press finally said something nice about you. Frame it.

Then, in the second semi, Cool Hand edged Van Veen in yet another last-leg decider, blissfully unaware he was about to find himself embroiled in another epic encounter.

As the sun set over the magnificent New York skyline, it came down to two men standing. England’s World Cup-winning duo. The two Lukes. The top-ranked dogs on the darting planet once again duelling for yet another major title. They seem to play each other with the regularity of two elderly ladies bumping into one another every Tuesday morning at the launderette.

As predicted, it oozed maximums – fourteen in the end. It got to the point, if you blinked, you’d probably miss three of them. Humphries burst from the traps, taking the opening couple of legs. But from that point onwards – as everyone watching expected – it became a proper heavyweight contest, with neither man giving the other so much as a sniff.

After fourteen legs shared equally, featuring the sort of quality that has become synonymous with these two extraordinary players, it was last year’s US Masters champion who held throw and, in doing so, successfully defended his title.

Massive congratulations to Luke Humphries.

In truth, it was the perfect finale to a weekend which once again highlighted that North America doesn’t just excel at baseball, ice hockey and, for many, possessing absolutely no idea there’s a major football tournament taking place practically in their own back garden. They’re pretty darn good at darts as well. And judging by what we witnessed over the weekend, they’re only going to get better.