Bunting’s fall a warning that darts must work hard to keep growing

In the early rounds of the 2026 World Championship, thousands of darts fans suddenly changed their minds. Stephen Bunting, then world No 4, was suddenly cast as a villain. To that point, perhaps no player was so unanimously beloved thanks to a general Nice Bloke vibe and willingness to self-ironise, his “Titanium” walk-on likened to a religious experience.

But few in the sport had been so effective at monetising that popularity. He currently has more than 460,000 TikTok followers and 131,000 subscribers on a YouTube channel started a year ago for a mixture of educational darts content, viral pieces to camera with comedy filters, and opening trading cards. He trademarked his slogan #LetsGoBuntingMental and stuck it on every piece of merchandise imaginable, sold on his own website.

The real watershed was when he declared himself “the people’s champion” after his first-round win, part of a social media debate amid a slew of debutant winners. And to that point, he might well have been right, dedicating more time to fans than any other elite player. But six days later he broke down in his second-round press conference after almost a week of being informed that if you have to say you’re the people’s champion, you aren’t.

His 13-year-old son/bespectacled mini-me Toby had also been abused on social media. Bunting had to clarify that “I’ll be doing a lot more social stuff with him this coming year”. When you have to publicly declare you’re standing by your teenage son, you can assume something has gone very wrong. He was knocked out 4-3 in the third round by world No 63 James Hurrell, although the Ally Pally crowd stayed with him to the end, an entirely different entity from the sport’s hardcore support. This is perhaps the crucial distinction in understanding modern darts – between the match-goer and TV viewer.

For all the soaring prize money, for all the noise and bluster and sell-outs, the sport is, if not regressing, then rebalancing to a new post-Luke Littler mean. Caveated by this being the first year with an expanded field of 128 players, and therefore four days’ extra play, the total TV viewership for the 2025-26 World Championship was up more than 100% on 2021-22 and 13% on 2024-25. This is good.

And yet the 2026 final was watched by an average of 1.6m on Sky, significantly down from 3.1m the year before and the record of 3.71m in 2024, both the genesis and peak of Littlermania in the public consciousness. This figure feels like the fairest representation of darts’ real UK base, still a 160% increase on the 2020-21 final, even though that had the benefit of being mid-pandemic. Securing these inflated foundations is the next challenge.

The final has competed against The Traitors for the past three years, but this year’s initial, post-celebrity version of the BBC show has earned numbers that have dwarfed previous seasons and appear to have taken the swing vote, aided by being free to air. The drop also indicates that public fatigue or boredom at Littler’s success has already begun, a uniquely miserable approach to a once-in-a-generation British sporting talent, to the chance to witness genius unfolding live.

But it does beg the question: what do we actually want from our darts players? It will always be a ruthlessly exposing sport, perfectly designed to prod every soft point in the human psyche, by its nature dealing in complex emotions and the extremes of humanity. But darts crowds have consistently proven they like flattening every player into easily comprehensible characters, heels and heroes, bores and entertainers. It makes them easier to love or loathe, and easier to switch between the two.

The Ally Pally crowd learned to love Littler again after turning on him during victory over Rob Cross. “I’m just me as you see me – outside of the darts, inside of the darts, I’ll never change,” he said the morning after winning his second World Championship, three weeks before his 19th birthday. On Friday he signed darts’ biggest contract ever, a reported 10-year, £20m deal with manufacturer and management company Target.

The inaugural Saudi Darts Masters starts later this month, after the new season begins in Bahrain on 15 January, with Bunting the reigning champion. It is hard to see the Saudi move as anything other than a naked cash grab with no genuine intention of growing interest in a country in which it is hard to imagine darts’ booze-soaked hedonism catching on. PDC chair Barry Hearn initially said that they would not play there unless alcohol was allowed. The teetotal tournament was confirmed less than a year later.

Darts’ remarkable success in turning a bad spectator sport into one of the hottest tickets available means that paying fans drive its revenues and decisions. Tickets for the World Championship sold out in less than 24 hours. General admission tickets for the 17-night Premier League have sold out for every night bar one (Aberdeen), most going in the pre-pre-sale.

The Premier League’s line-up – it includes the same eight players every night – was announced on Monday. Bunting was included despite a poor year in big tournaments, not making it to a TV semi-final and finishing bottom of the 2025 Premier League. If he’s not entirely in because of his walk-on’s mega-virality, it did not hurt, and there has been significant kick-back against the PDC for his inclusion over players in better form, alongside its refusal to adapt a format that has begun to tire.

Last February the PDC signed a five-year deal with Sky worth £125m, securing its TV future. And if the thousands filling arenas and stadiums from Madison Square Garden to Manchester want the same few big-name players and viral walk-ons and easily comprehensible characters, that is what they will get.

But Bunting’s tale should be a warning to the PDC about the fine margins of monetising hard-earned popularity and exploitation, about how quickly a fanbase can turn if they feel they are being taken for granted or exploited. If you have to make such a point of being the people’s champion, maybe you’re not.

Photograph by Bradley Collyer/PA Wire