There are players who turn up at Ally Pally without huge expectation and a feeling of disbelief. And then there’s Michael Smith — a man who arrives there as though answering an ancient calling. Bullyboy’s opening night win over Ladies Legend Lisa Ashton will have settled the nerves and started to build some much needed momentum
Fifteen straight years he has marched up that famous hill, but not one journey has ever felt routine. For Smith, the World Championship isn’t just a tournament; it’s the tournament — the place where careers ignite, collapse, resurrect and, in his case, enter folklore.
This is the arena where he finally severed the chains of two final defeats and lifted the Sid Waddell Trophy. Where he sent the sport into meltdown by finishing the greatest leg ever played. Where he became world number one. Where he found the version of himself that people talk about with reverence.
So when he speaks about Alexandra Palace, he does so like a man describing a recurring dream:
“It’s always a buzz going back to Ally Pally. Just driving up the hill and seeing the lights, you get that weird feeling. It never goes away either… I want to keep continuing because that feeling won’t disappear ever.”
That’s not nostalgia. That’s muscle memory. That’s a pilgrimage. And for Smith, no matter what happens from February to November, everything funnels into this one three-week crucible:
“It’s the main one… As soon as the World Championship finishes, you start thinking about next year… One tournament can change the year.”
He isn’t exaggerating. Smith’s 2025 has been rough — injuries, dips in form, and the slide to 31st in the rankings. For some players, that would trigger panic. For Smith, it has triggered something closer to defiance. Because when November arrived, and the Grand Slam lights hit him, something flickered. A resurgence. A reminder. A quarter-final run powered by scoring that had been missing, timing that had been dormant, belief that had been bruised but never broken.
Smith doesn’t do self-pity. He does stubbornness. Industrial-strength stubbornness.
“You’ve definitely not seen the last of me… I won’t quit until I get what I want… I’m getting back to what I used to be doing practice-wise. I feel good and I feel ready. I’m not 100%, but going into the Worlds, if I produce something, I know I can carry it on.”
Bully Boy is not claiming perfection. He’s claiming danger. His opening night in the form of four-time Women’s World Champion Lisa Ashton — a player the crowd loves, the TV cameras adore, and the Smith wasn’t distracted.
“I’m looking forward to it, it should be a good game… Lisa can score heavily and I know I can too. I know I’ve got the game and the scoring power… I need to get myself in that place and very quickly. I know that I can get it done… I’ve just got to go up there and do my job and my job is to make sure I return.”
He certainly did, a 3-0 win and a settler for this year’s mission. Return.
Because the thing Michael Smith understands better than anyone is this: when he is doing his job — really doing his job — nobody in world darts enjoys the experience on the other side of the oche.
As Ally Pally prepares to roar once more, one truth hangs in the air like his famous nine-darter: A fully focused Michael Smith is a nightmare match up for absolutely anyone.
—–ENDS—–
Images: PDC
