Luke Littler stood under the lights at The O2, Premier League trophy at his side, and broke down. Moments after edging Luke Humphries 11-10 in a gripping final, the world No 1’s voice cracked as he admitted he had recently questioned whether he even wanted to be there at all.

The teenager’s second Premier League crown in three years should have been a straightforward coronation. He had survived a last-leg decider against Gerwyn Price in the semi-finals, then overturned the defending champion in another thriller. On paper, it was the latest chapter in a relentless rise: six nightly wins, top of the league phase, another major title added to a bulging résumé.

But the tears told a different story. Littler revealed that the jeers, whistles and hostility that had followed him around the circuit had left him contemplating walking away from the competition. The flashpoint came in Manchester, during a bad-tempered defeat to Gian van Veen, followed by a dismal night in Brighton. At home, he confessed to his partner Faith that he no longer wanted to face the weekly barrage from the crowd.

Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss. Littler responded with a run of finals and more victories, his scoring power undimmed. Inwardly, the noise was eroding his enjoyment of the sport he dominates. “I’m not asking for sympathy,” he said, “I just told the world how I was feeling.”

Humphries, now world No 2, understood all too well. He had been cast as the villain after beating Littler at the World Championship, suddenly booed simply for winning. “You’re at home and you don’t actually want to go and play darts,” he admitted, describing the sense that “everyone just hates you.”

That shared experience framed Humphries’ immediate embrace of Littler on stage. For all the talk of data, averages and titles, this was a reminder that the sport’s brightest star is still a 19-year-old trying to cope with scrutiny few adults ever face.

Littler’s words cut through the mythology of the unshakeable champion. “We’ve all got feelings, not just as dart players – we’re just humans,” he said. In a sport that often prizes bravado over vulnerability, his honesty may prove as significant as any trophy he lifts.