It’s almost time for the annual Baltic Sea Darts Open. Where is it staged, I hear you ask? Obviously somewhere absolutely freezing in that actual region of Europe such as Estonia, Latvia or perhaps a remote fishing village populated entirely by men named Igor who wrestle bears recreationally. Maybe even the North Pole itself, with Santa acting as caller and Rudolph collapsing after twelve pints in the hospitality lounge.
Nope. It’s in Kiel, Germany.
Now before anyone gives me a geography lesson and quite rightly points out that Kiel does in fact sit on the Baltic Sea coastline and is a major seaport, I still maintain the tournament name feels slightly misleading. Liverpool borders the Irish Sea, but you probably wouldn’t stage an event there and simply call it the Irish Sea Darts Open. Honestly, even the “Er… Course Darts Open” would somehow sound more fitting given the city’s reputation for that particular phrase. Compete there and you might walk away with silverware but definitely not your wheel trims.
Perhaps the bigger question is why the tournament leans so heavily into the whole Baltic branding in the first place. Most people hear the word Baltic and instantly think conditions of ‘freezing your tits off’. But Kiel? Not really. At this time of year, the weather there generally alternates between mildly pleasant and the surface temperature of Mercury. One minute you’re casually eating a bratwurst beneath glorious blue skies and the next you’re slowly dissolving into a puddle outside a sausage stand wondering whether human skin can actually evaporate.
Why this particular Euro Tour event ended up with such a dramatically Arctic sounding title is anybody’s guess. For this one, the PDC naming department appears to have operated under the same chaotic principles as a drunk bloke attempting to assemble IKEA furniture blindfolded.
I’ve said it before – the whole Deutschland obsession is becoming a bit much with the PDC staging approximately 97% of all European events in Germany – a country seemingly fuelled entirely by sausage meat, lager and men confidently wearing trousers that should only legally exist in folklore museums – but surely someone could have brainstormed a title slightly less geographically confusing. It almost feels like they were desperate to break into the Baltic market and simply picked the only place in Germany where they could realistically squeeze the word into a tournament title.
Anyway, now that the rant is over, let’s preview what remains one of the most bizarrely and inappropriately titled sporting events since the World Bobsleigh Championships were held in the Sahara Desert. That never actually happened by the way. It would be a crap idea but incredibly funny for us viewers.
The inaugural Baltic Sea Darts Open took place in 2023 and was won by Dave Chisnall. Ironically, Chizzy probably boarded the wrong flight and ended up in Lithuania before somebody redirected him towards Kiel with a compass, a panic attack and vague hand gestures. To be fair, it wouldn’t strange to hear of him accidentally heading in the completely wrong direction whilst travelling to Leicester. Just kidding Dave – love ya really pal!
Anyway, the man dressed like a giant lemon defeated Luke Humphries in the final roughly a year before Cool Hand evolved into the treble-hitting cyborg he soon morphed in to.
Twelve months later (give or take), Rob Cross lifted the title and once again left Humphries carrying the runner-up cheque and the facial expression of a man who’s just discovered his train replacement service involves a canoe. By then though, the Berkshire star had become World Champion and world number one, making the victory considerably more prestigious for Voltage.
Last year it was Gerwyn Price who stormed to glory, dismantling Gary Anderson 8-3 in the final as Booyahmania erupted around Kiel with all the subtlety of a pub fight at closing time.
Previewing this weekend’s tournament is difficult because roughly half the field will probably sack it off long before boarding their flights, leaving any predictions about as useful as teaching an ostrich about climate change. Unless, of course, this particular ostrich happened to possess a doctorate, remarkable emotional resilience and a member of the Greta Thunberg fan club.
Still, with the Premier League now finished, several players who previously couldn’t be arsed enduring a ten-hour queue at German airport security may suddenly rediscover their enthusiasm for European competition. Even if their luggage eventually ends up somewhere miles away being examined by huge Baltic bastard in Customs named Oleksandr who looks capable of headbutting through concrete purely for recreational purposes.
And honestly, if Luke Littler did enter and his suitcase somehow landed in the actual Baltics, the irony would almost be too perfect for darts to handle. There may eventually come a time when even The Nuke would appreciate the humour in it. Admittedly, that moment would probably be a few years – and several million pounds in prize money away.
