For elite darts players, sheer ability and talent will only take you so far. There are countless other factors which come into play.

Naturally, unless you possess the first aspect of that opening sentence, forget it. Being good at darts is kind of a fundamental prerequisite really. If you are able to frequently hit the targets you actually aim at with a few tungsten missiles, as opposed to constantly finding the need to redecorate your living room wall with holes resembling a crime scene reconstruction, an incredible level of mental strength and self-belief becomes a huge string to your bow. Or at the very least, it stops your neighbours wondering whether you’ve taken up competitive axe throwing.

And that takes me nicely into the subject of this article – Mr Dimitri Van den Bergh. Not the bit about annoying the neighbours or turning the living room into something resembling a Swiss cheese factory, I mean the mental strength and self-belief aspect. Because if there’s one thing you can never accuse Dimitri Van den Bergh of lacking, it’s belief. The man has more faith in himself than a bloke who’s had ten pints, a magic set for Christmas and suddenly decides he’s capable of winning Britain’s Got Talent.

It was just over two years ago that the Belgian lifted the UK Open – his second major PDC title. Some players don’t even win one. Dimitri has the World Matchplay and this baby on his darting résumé. That’s a CV many professionals would happily swap for, even if the contract involved dancing lessons from a drunken penguin with a taste for death metal.

And on that subject – dancing, not head-banging penguins – this is one player perhaps best known for his moves and grooves on stage. Something which, if I attempted, would result in injuries akin to being trampled by a stiletto-wearing elephant.

Flying high on the Order of Merit, armed with a Premier League invitation and with the world seemingly at his feet – 2024 was a good time to be a Dimitri Van den Bergh fan. Better still, it was a good time to actually be Dimitri Van den Bergh given the fact the prize money was landing in his bank account – not his many followers.

Then, almost from nowhere, the form disappeared. And I’m not just talking out the window. I’m speaking about it being catapulted into space before colliding with an astronaut on the moon who happened to be taking his morning stroll.

Victories became defeats. Ton-plus averages dropped lower than a politician’s conscience and, slowly but surely, the Antwerp Ace began slipping down the league table at roughly the same rate as Tottenham Hotspur.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. How do you go from being one of the best players on the planet to facing the genuine prospect of missing the World Championship and even whispers about losing professional status just a couple of years after winning a major title?

Easy. It’s called form.

Every professional arrow-smith encounters a period in their career where things go tits up. Granted, it has been particularly brutal for Dimitri. Some players suffer a dip. Dimi’s looked more like somebody accidentally drove a forklift truck over his confidence. But in recent weeks there appears to be light at the end of the tunnel.

This is where what I mentioned earlier comes into play. Hard work, dedication and the mental fortitude of an experienced Jedi Knight who has written several books on the power of the Force. Few possess more belief than Van den Bergh. He’s worked his backside off in recent months and is finally beginning to see the fruits of his labour come to fruition. Which is fortunate, because professional darts can be a remarkably unforgiving place. One minute you’re constantly on television. The next, it’s a dodgy-looking vase on the box instead.

It would have been so easy to jack it all in. Pride would have been dented more times than his manager’s van if he’d allowed Owen Roelofs to drive it every week. Plenty of players have folded under less pressure. Dimi, however, dug in deep. Which is more than can be said for some footballers who collapse like they’ve been struck by artillery after a gentle breeze catches their shin.

Now the father of two beautiful daughters, including a relatively new-born, The Dreammaker, like many of his peers, sacrifices valuable time at home in order to rebuild his career and ultimately provide them with the best possible future. For a lot of darts players, even a few days in Leicester would be preferable to dealing with a couple of screaming children. But not Dimi. He’s a fiercely proud family man and understands that everything he is doing is ultimately for them.

Okay, so Van den Bergh isn’t quite there yet. The progress is evident. The averages are improving, the natural rhythm of his throw is returning, and the confidence and smile are beginning to rise again like a boxer dragging himself from the canvas after a knockout blow.

Time, as always, will be the proof of the pudding. But it’s a dessert Dimi has already ordered from the menu and is very much looking forward to tasting. I have every confidence he will be absolutely fine and back to picking up titles again soon. If not, well, there’s always Belgium’s version of Strictly Come Dancing and perhaps even their Flemish edition of Big Brother. But I believe in him and very much doubt it will come to that. Maybe when he retires perhaps.

I can’t believe I closed this article with a cake metaphor. That’s what you get after spending three years in the company of the Belgian’s manager, Mac Elkin. A man who, were it not for the existence of ice cubes, would almost certainly dehydrate before breakfast.