There is an a distinct lack of renown for a high point in the weekly sporting timeline that occurs in the cold and early hours of Friday mornings.
While the majority of us workplace drones are smashing grilled bread, necking caffeine, and trudging to the saltmines here in Australia, the combatants of Premier League Darts are crossing arrows in the UK.
The prize? Big quids and the adulation of costumed drunks.
Many would challenge its definition as a sport, but I implore you to load your throwing arm with tatts and give it a stab.
The Premier League showcases the crème de la crème of the elite dexterous rough dudes of darts in an intoxicating atmosphere comparable to the loudest arena terraces in England.
The jousters enter the arena with their theme song booming like a title fight, flanked by a pair of sensational-looking models as sloshed fans in crazy garb look on and strive to grope them.
That’s why they call it the sport of kings.
Without doubt, the pride of the league is 15-time world champion and five time Premier League winner Phil “The Power” Taylor.
This man has claims to being the most decorated sportsman on the planet. And frankly, with copious king trophies under his bulging belt, who can disagree?
The big British icon has revolutionised darts with a level of panache and charisma that has me bewildered as to why he has never been seen on a Tag Heuer billboard with other European sporting royalty.
Taylor’s most recent rival is the loose and dangerous Adrian “Jackpot” Lewis. He’s the reigning king and he’s missing a few marbles.
Lewis is a man who makes it clear to the densely pickled audience that he doesn’t enjoy their conduct.
To the layman, this is a death wish. To “Jackpot”, it’s simply a working blueprint. He’s the man who has been pocketing the winner’s cheques of late.
The Australian colours are represented in the league with distinction by the mighty Simon “The Wizard” Whitlock.
The man from Cessnock is a crowd-pleaser with his mechanical consistency, humble persona and downright ripper hairdo.
Has there been a better style to represent us on the international stage than Whitlock’s timeless plaited ponytail complete with fluffy spike and amplified chin growth?
He’s an Australian of the Year in the making. And he’s edging closer to his maiden major world title. Do you want to know what it feels like to miss something as epic?
So all of you footy bible-bashers who pass off the darts as nothing more than pint-pumping portly crims on parole; do yourself a favour and set the alarm.
It’s worth cutting short the Friday morning snore and rising for a dart.
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