Picture this, you’re standing at the oche, fingers wrapped around your trusty tungsten, staring down that beautiful sisal target like you’ve done a thousand times before. But something’s different this time. Your arm moves forward in its familiar motion, your brain sends the signal to release and then… nothing happens. Your fingers have apparently decided to go on strike. The dart that should be flying gracefully toward the treble 20 is now stuck to your hand like it’s been superglued there. When you finally manage to shake it loose, the result is either a sad little plop at your feet or a wild shot that has your friends ducking for cover. Welcome to the bizarre world of dartitis, the mysterious condition that can turn even the most natural throw into a complete train wreck.

Now, before we go any further, let’s address the skeptics in the room. Yes, there are people who think dartitis is just a fancy excuse for poor play. These are probably the same people who think the earth is flat and that pineapple belongs on pizza. The truth is, dartitis is as real as the frustration you feel when you bounce out on a crucial double. It’s not just nerves or a temporary slump, it’s a full-blown system crash between your brain and your throwing hand.

Frozen at the oche, the curse of dartitis explained

The term “dartitis” was first coined back in 1981 by Darts World magazine editor Tony Wood, who described it as an affliction where players simply couldn’t release the dart properly. Since then, it’s become the boogeyman of the darting world, the thing every player fears might creep up on them someday. Scientists believe it may be related to something called dystonia, which is basically when your muscles decide to rebel against your brain’s instructions. Think of it like your hand suddenly developing a mind of its own and refuses to do what it’s told.

What makes dartitis so terrifying is that it doesn’t discriminate. Eric Bristow, the Crafty Cockney himself and five-time world champion, developed dartitis at the absolute peak of his powers in 1986. He eventually adapted his throw, but he was never quite the same player again. More recently, rising star Beau Greaves went through her own dartitis nightmare, coming perilously close to quitting the sport altogether before fighting her way back to become world champion. The list goes on, Nathan Aspinall, Berry van Peer and countless others, proof that this isn’t just something that happens to beginners.

So what does dartitis actually feel like? Imagine trying to throw a dart while wearing someone else’s hand. There’s that horrible moment of hesitation where you know you should be releasing, but your fingers just won’t cooperate. Then comes the jerky, unnatural motion as you finally force the thing out of your hand, usually with about as much grace as a giraffe on roller skates. Sometimes the dart drops straight down like it’s given up on life. Other times it goes rogue, veering off at some bizarre angle you never intended. With each failed throw, the frustration builds, making the next attempt even harder, until you’re stuck in this vicious cycle where the more you think about throwing properly, the worse it gets.

The really cruel thing about dartitis is that it attacks the very foundation of your game, the throw that’s supposed to be automatic. Most of us don’t consciously think about how to throw a dart any more than we think about how to breathe. It’s just something our bodies know how to do. But dartitis changes all that. Suddenly, you’re overanalyzing every tiny movement, trying to consciously control what should be subconscious and the whole thing falls apart like a cheap suit in the rain.

What causes this darting nightmare? While the experts are still figuring out the exact mechanics, most agree it’s rooted in performance anxiety. That fear of missing, of failing in front of others, somehow short-circuits your muscle memory. It’s like when someone tells you to breathe manually and suddenly you forget how to do something you’ve been doing since birth. In darts terms, your brain starts micromanaging your throw and the result is about as smooth as a porcupine in a balloon factory.

The good news is that dartitis can be overcome. Different players have found success with different approaches, which means you might need to experiment to find what works for you. Some, like Berry van Peer, turned to hypnotherapy and sports psychology to get their mojo back. Others found that changing their equipment or completely rebuilding their throwing action from scratch did the trick. Beau Greaves credits her comeback to mental resilience and the support of her family, proof that sometimes the solution is as much about what’s happening between your ears as what’s happening with your arm.

One common thread in recovery stories is the importance of returning to basics. When dartitis strikes, it’s often helpful to strip everything back to its simplest form. Forget about scores, forget about technique, just focus on making a smooth, natural release. Some players find success by switching to heavier or lighter darts, changing their grip or even altering their stance. The key is breaking the cycle of tension and hesitation that dartitis creates. It’s about tricking your brain out of overthinking and letting your muscle memory take the wheel again.

Mental techniques can be just as important as physical adjustments. Visualization, picturing yourself throwing smoothly before you actually do it, helps many players. So does developing rock-solid pre-throw routines to create consistency and calm those jittery nerves. The goal is to stop your conscious mind from interfering with what your body already knows how to do. It’s like when you’re walking down stairs, if you start thinking about each individual movement, you’re likely to trip yourself up.

Perhaps most importantly, players who overcome dartitis learn to take the pressure off themselves. They stop seeing each missed dart as a personal failure and start viewing practice as play rather than punishment. Silly games, unconventional targets, anything to bring back the joy and spontaneity that dartitis tries to steal away. Because at its core, dartitis thrives on tension and fear and nothing defeats those quite like laughter and enjoyment.

The final dartitis solution, “Blame, laugh and repeat!”

Dartitis may be one of the most frustrating challenges a player can face, but it’s not a life sentence. With patience, experimentation and the right mindset, the smooth, confident throw you remember is still in there somewhere. The path back might involve changing your game, changing your mindset, or both. It might take weeks or months. You might have good days and bad days. But one thing’s certain, giving up isn’t the only option.

So if you find yourself frozen at the oche, fingers locked around a dart that refuses to fly, remember this, you’re not alone, it’s not permanent and there is a way through. The darting greats who battled back from dartitis didn’t do it by magic, they did it by persistence and by refusing to let this bizarre condition define their game. Now take a deep breath, step up to the line and remember, throwing a dart is supposed to be fun, even when your hand seems determined to forget how.

Darts fever, because why not practice more, aim higher and laugh louder!

Eric Bristow, The Crafty Cockney: “In 1987 I got dartitis, a psychological condition which means you can’t let your darts go properly. For a time, I wondered what the hell I was going to do if I didn’t recover. But I remained positive and thankfully, got over it. It occurred during the Swedish Open when I found I couldn’t let the darts go.”