9 hours ago
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By the time Cameron Menzies finally leaves the arena, the blood gushing from the gash on his right hand has trickled its way down the whole hand, down his wrist, part of his forearm and – somehow – up to his face. Smeared in crimson and regret, and already mouthing sheepish apologies to the crowd, he disappears down the steps, pursued by a stern-looking Matt Porter, the chief executive of the Professional Darts Corporation.
The physical scars from Menzies’s encounter with the Alexandra Palace drinks table after his 3-2 defeat against Charlie Manby will be gone within a few weeks. Most probably there will be a fine of some sort. What about the rest? Man loses game of darts, punches table three times in fury, goes to hospital, repents at leisure: simple cause and effect. But of course this is not, and this is never, the whole story. In a way this tale is a kind of parable for elite darts itself, a pub game elevated to the level of a prize-fight, even – very occasionally – a bloodsport.
Credit, first of all, where due. The 20-year-old Manby is clearly going to be some talent: a star of the Modus Super Series who this year posted a mind-bending average of 130.7 on the Development Tour, smashing the previous record held by Luke Littler. This was his debut on the big stage, and he owned it thoroughly.
Twelve months ago, Menzies was on this same stage, playing his first-round game against Leonard Gates of the US. The crowd didn’t need an excuse to goad him, but in the likable Texan they had one anyway. As Gates edged into the lead, boisterous support for the underdog spilled into something a little nastier. Menzies was jeered every time he missed a double. Before long they were jeering the missed doubles and missed singles too.
A skittish and anxious player even at the best of times, Menzies started to choke up. From a distance, he appeared to be displaying the classic signs of a panic attack. He lost 3-1, left the stage in tears, pursued by a chorus of “Scotland get battered, everywhere they go”. Unbeknown to everyone, his father was in hospital recovering from a triple heart bypass. Menzies would later describe it as one of the darkest times of his life.
Of course pantomime villains have been part of the Palace liturgy since way back. Gerwyn Price used to get it, and Peter Manley before him. But Menzies is nobody’s idea of a hard-bitten, shit-talking heel. He’s a wry, funny, slightly daft ex-plumber who wears his heart on his sleeve. So why do the Ally Pally crowd take such pleasure in tearing strips off him?
Being Scottish is a factor, but Gary Anderson and Peter Wright get nothing like the same treatment. Maybe some find his histrionics a distraction. Chris Dobey has named him as one of the most irritating players on tour because of that sense of constant theatre, the emotions and the contortions, a player teetering on the edge of a precipice, whose toughest opponent has often seemed to be himself.
But ultimately the reason the Alexandra Palace crowd get at Menzies is they know he can be got at. If you’ve ever fancied influencing the outcome of a darts game, the world No 26 gives you maximum bang for your bark. He suffers. He miscounts. He misses. You will get under his skin, and you will know you’ve got under his skin, and so you will keep trying. If his ex-partner Fallon Sherrock was Queen of the Palace, Menzies is more akin to its whipping boy.
The irony is that for long periods Menzies was successfully hushing the crowd. He led 2-1 in sets, grabbing the third with a sublime 11-dart leg, and despite a little queasiness on the doubles looked fully in control. But as Manby rallied, levelling at 2-2 and then breaking the Menzies throw in the deciding set, the volume began to swell, a kind of madness rolling in at the edges, a dark fog of chaos and doom.
By the time Menzies had fatally miscounted in a leg he had to win, throwing treble-20 on 66, his good sense had departed him entirely. Manby missed a dart for the match. Menzies returned with six required. He missed. Then hit a single-3. Flung his last dart aimlessly at the bull to bust his score, only for the referee, Kirk Bevins, to inform him that it was invalid, as he had already stepped past the oche.
Finally, Manby finally claimed victory on double-1. Reeled across the stage in triumph. Sought out Menzies to offer his commiserations, only to discover that the hand he was expecting to shake was drenched in blood.
Afterwards, Menzies issued a statement apologising for his behaviour. His uncle Gary had passed away last month, and it was on his mind, but he didn’t want anyone to think he was making excuses. And for all the spite and condemnation that will be flung his way, ultimately nobody will be harder on Menzies than Menzies himself: a man constantly trying and failing to balance his feelings for the sport, a man who you hope is getting the help he needs.
He will be back next year, and so will the crowds, and he knows it will be 10 times worse next year, and he knows the PDC will do nothing. This is the pact, the dark side of darts’s golden age. Take a man with a history of mental health problems, throw him on stage in front of people who have seen him bleed on the television, chuck in some morning pints and a little petty English nationalism, and see what happens. The good news is that Menzies is a good enough player to conquer this stage eventually. The bad news is that he’ll need to be.
