Richie Burnett: The Unfiltered Truth of a Darts Legend
Richie Burnett, the “Prince of Wales” of darts, recently pulled back the curtain on his illustrious and often turbulent career. In a rare, unscripted interview, he revealed his rebellious youth, his journey into professional darts driven by hard work, not natural talent, and his strong opinions on the sport’s evolution, particularly the divide between the BDO and PDC. Burnett candidly discussed the heartbreak of his 1998 World Championship final loss, the personal struggles that led to a period of decline, and the “stupid mistake” of his suspension, all while reaffirming his unwavering passion for the game and the thrill of competition. This is the story of a true darts icon, unpolished and uncompromising.
A Demand for Raw Honesty
When darts legend Richie Burnett sat down for the “Tops & Tales” podcast, he laid down a critical condition: the conversation had to be live and unedited. “If everything’s recorded, you don’t always see the real person,” Burnett explained, emphasizing his belief that true honesty emerges only in live, unscripted moments. This desire for authenticity is vintage Richie – resistant to artificial polish, indifferent to comfort, and allergic to external control.
His connection with interviewer Huw Ware goes back decades, to a time when darts was a far cry from its modern, high-glamour status. Burnett fondly recalled those early days: “They were public exhibitions, that’s all it was back then. No big venues, nothing.” He reflected on the sport’s explosion in popularity, noting with a hint of irony, “Darts wasn’t as big as it is now… a bit too late for me, typical.”
From Rascal to Darts Icon: A Youth Without Regrets
Burnett offered no sugar-coating when discussing his youth. The 58-year-old legend admitted, “I was a rascal, to be honest. I hated school, hated teachers, hated authority.” Despite the self-confessed chaos, he stands by his life choices. “I learned from experiences. I’ve done some stupid things, but I’ve got very few regrets — because I never made the same mistake twice.”
His past still echoes, with people often reminding him of forgotten antics. This explains his aversion to documenting his life: “I can’t write a book. I’ve forgotten too much. I just move on.”
The Accidental Darts Player
Darts wasn’t a planned career; it was an organic attraction. Watching legends like Jocky Wilson, Eric Bristow, and Alan Evans on TV ignited his passion. Pub darts followed, leading to relentless practice. Burnett humbly stated, “I worked hard. I wasn’t a natural.”
His early career was marked by constant experimentation with his throw, a process he admits can “take years.” The key to his longevity, he found, was simplicity and self-acceptance. “Wherever you picked that dart up first, that’s your throw. It’s a simple game. I kept it simple — and that’s why I had longevity.”
When his technique was called “iconic,” Burnett brushed it off. “Most players change darts all the time,” he noted. “For me, the grip’s in my hand, not the dart.”
The Unforgivable Loss: Stolen Darts
One particular loss still stings for Burnett – not a match, but a specific set of darts. “It’s the only set of darts I’ve ever lost,” he lamented. “And I didn’t lose them — they were stolen.” These cherished darts vanished after an exhibition in Wales, near the Rhondda. “I left that night and they were gone.”
BDO vs. PDC: A Battle of Ideologies
Burnett pulls no punches when discussing the darts politics of the 1990s. He openly criticized the BDO (British Darts Organisation), calling them “bullies” and citing “too much conflict of interest.” His verdict on their management was absolute:
- “You can’t run a professional sport with amateurs in charge.”
- “If you run an amateur sport, you get amateur results.”
In stark contrast, his experience with the PDC (Professional Darts Corporation) was different. “When I moved over, nothing was given to me — I had to earn everything,” he said, but crucially, “they listened. And that’s how it should be.”
The Olly Croft Conflict and the Pioneers
His relationship with Olly Croft, a key figure in the BDO, was strained. “I could never get on with Olly,” Burnett admitted, believing Croft disliked him for his honesty. He holds immense pride for the fourteen players who broke away to form the PDC: “Those fourteen players — I take my hat off to them. They put everything on the line.”
Despite his significant impact – reaching three finals in four years before leaving the BDO – he felt a lack of recognition. However, what truly mattered was the respect of his peers and his own integrity: “That means everything to me. The rest doesn’t matter.”
Lakeside: Triumph and Heartbreak
The mere mention of Lakeside, the iconic venue for the BDO World Championship, brings back vivid memories for Burnett. “When you’re there — in the hotel, walking to the hall — it’s something you can’t describe,” he said, emphasizing “the scent, the atmosphere.”
Leading up to his 1995 victory, his self-belief was absolute. “I said to myself, if I don’t win this, I’m jumping in the lake.” He wasn’t bluffing, having been undefeated for months. However, another final, the 1998 loss to Raymond van Barneveld, remains a source of profound pain. “That broke my heart,” he confessed. “I averaged 98, couldn’t hit a double, and still won more legs than him. He just kept hitting that last dart.”
Decline, Suspension, and Unwavering Passion
The pressures of the sport and personal life eventually took their toll. “Politics, life problems — it all piled up,” he admitted, leading to a period of decline. His response was extreme: “I locked myself in a room for two weeks and just threw darts.” The physical cost was immense, leaving him “black and blue.” On stage, aggression became his fuel: “You have to be aggressive. I told myself: you are going.”
His famous leg kicks during matches? Pure, unadulterated release. “I nearly fell over,” he laughed, “I almost kicked myself in the back of the head.” Beneath it all, his core love for the game and competition never wavered.
The toughest chapter arrived with his suspension. He clarifies it was “two years — but really it was 28 months,” due to waiting periods. “It was a stupid mistake and a low point,” he owned, reflecting on the incident. Yet, even during this time, darts maintained its grip: “I still practised every day. I couldn’t stop playing. I wish it never happened — but I moved on.”
Source: Based on an article from Darts World Magazine.
