King of the ferrets and other similar furry animals, Jonny Clayton, claimed the 2026 SkyCity New Zealand Darts Masters title, courtesy of an emphatic victory over Welsh compatriot Gerwyn Price.
En route to Auckland, one or two of the PDC representatives had what you would call ‘troubled journeys’. Gian van Veen’s underpants, along with the rest of his luggage – darts included – decided to stop off for a while in Paris. As for runner-up Gezzy, somehow his trip took forty hours.
I’m unsure if The Iceman had decided to swim to New Zealand, but the higher possibility was airport delays and things like that. Although, given the length of time taken, he could probably have built his own raft and still made decent time.
The Mustelidae-named moniker seemed to have enjoyed a relatively drama-free travel experience and, prior to the tournament, appeared in what looked like a cooking video alongside James Wade.
I didn’t watch long enough to work out what that was all about. Not a fan of The Great British Bake-Off, so this wasn’t tickling my taste buds much. Presumably, Paul Hollywood wasn’t losing any sleep over the competition.
Jonny’s campaign could have crashed at the first hurdle, having to come through a nervy last-leg decider to beat Haupai Puha – one of the Kiwis’ finest exports since Russell Crowe.
From that point on, Clayton may not have been slamming in the power scores, but when it came to chucking at the outer ring, he was like Robin Hood on cheat mode.
After defeating the highest-ranked player, Gian van Veen, 6-3 in the quarters, the Welsh maestro destroyed James Wade with the concession of just two legs. No mean feat against any pro – but against The Machine – mighty impressive stuff.
That put him in the final and a clash versus the only Welsh bloke on the planet who, according to world darts rankings, is considered better. For me, it’s always a coin toss.
Before I get onto Gezzy’s route to the all-Cymru showdown, I’d like to offer some advice to Adam Leek. Whilst I think he is an exceptional player and clearly won the ‘loudest shirt of the tournament’, adorned with kangaroos, koalas and, of course, leeks – pausing after two treble twenties to buoy the crowd before attempting a maximum kinda fell on its arse one too many times.
Maybe had he kept the rhythm going, he may have hit an extra 60 points – then who knows. But fair enough. It’s a big occasion and I guess he wanted to entertain the New Zealand faithful. Maybe he might juggle in between attempts at doubles when he hits his home nation next weekend. Perhaps a unicycle too, just to really get the crowd involved.
Kiwi Kayden Milne’s mullet was a bit of a question mark. Together with a shirt which looked right out of the 1980 Embassy World Championship collection, I thought for a second I’d travelled back in time. All that was missing was a pint, an ashtray and Sid Waddell screaming somewhere in the background.
Anyway, back to Gez. He waltzed past Mark Cleaver, giving him the chop with an emphatic 6-1 triumph. Then, on Saturday in the quarters, lost just four legs in two matches against Aussies – two in each fixture. Firstly to Damon Heta and then to the impressive Raymond Smith.
But in the final, it was one-way traffic. If you’d have gambled on a winner from the Welsh lads’ respective semi-final displays, you’d have put your quid on Price. Yet, at the first (and only) break, Clayton had romped into a 5-1 lead. And against a stubborn Ferret, that’s tricky to turn around, eventually racing to glory 8-4.
So it proved and, about eight minutes later, Jonny picked up his first World Series crown on New Zealand soil at the price of his buddy (no pun intended). Okay, maybe slightly intended.
Next stop, across the Ditch to Wollongong for more of the same. Just a few fewer Kiwis and more Aussie chaps.
