what is the point of darts? Athlete: Phil Taylor at Sydney's Four Seasons Hotel this week. IN THE heady and hypnotic world of professional darts, it's easy to lose sight of what matters most. It isn't about the angle of your elbow or the trajectory you send your arrow home to the tiny destination otherwise known as "treble 20." It isn't about mustering every fibre in your weary being to ensure the announcer bellows "one hundred and eighteeeeeeeeeey!" It isn't about your breathing, about blocking out the noise, about maintaining confidence when you need a fabled nine-dart finish to keep yourself in the tournament. Contrary to popular belief, it isn't even about the pints. No, darts is about the music. It's about the walk-on music, and to the professional arrow-thrower, that is the soundtrack of their lives. Australia's Simon Whitlock heads to the oche for his first-round match. On Thursday night, in the opening match of the Sydney Darts Masters under the big top at Luna Park, Australian World Cup star Paul Nicholson strutted to the stage in wraparound sunglasses to The Angels' immortal Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again? Yes, the crowd finished off the next line. The veteran Raymond van Barneveld entered the arena to Survivor's Eye of the Tiger, much to the unbridled pleasure of the "Barney Army." When Australian Simon "The Wizard" Whitlock abandoned INXS's New Sensation in 2010 for Men at Work's Land Down Under, the blogosphere was aghast. "I'm crushed," moaned one heartbroken fan. You've sold out, Simon. Then there's Chase the Sun, the song from the Italian electronic dance group Planet Funk released in 2000 to moderate success on the Australian charts but an anthem for the blithering darts supporter, who can often be identified as the bloke wearing the batman suit or dressed as a pink horse. That is the soundtrack of their lives, and it's stuck on repeat. Da-da-da-dadaaaah Da-da-da-daaaaah. Da-da-da-da-daaaaaah ... Oi! Oi! They are all fine tunes, no doubt. But the one that keeps darts humming along is attached to a 53-year-old man from Stoke. He has won 16 world titles. He is regarded as the best arrow chucker of all time. The Jordan, Federer or Yoda of darts. When Sky Sports production manager Peter Judge stepped on an empty CD case of The Power by German dance group Snap!, he told Phil Taylor that would be his new nickname. A legend was born. I've got the power! Not that Taylor will have a bar of any talk about his fame. Sitting down at the plush Four Seasons hotel in Sydney this week, you tell him you are not a darts aficionado. "Nor am I!" he interjects in his northern brogue. But we know you, Phil. We know The Power. "A few people have noticed me in the city this week," he continues. Asked how he handles his fame in England, where he's a household name, he tells you this: "I just do, really. I've got a nice fame. People are good to me. They've known me for 30 years. I've been on TV for 25 years. It's like I am part of the furniture. I'm OK with the attention, but you're always scrutinised. Everything you say and everything you do. With mobile phones, people are always watching you and recording you. You have to be on your toes a lot. You know what I mean? Whatever preconceptions you have about darts, you should leave them at the door right now. Or the bar, where jugs of beer at Luna Park are going for $26 heading into the final night of the tournament. Taylor doesn't drink beer. "If anything, I'll have a wine," he says. Because it's made of grapes. His poison of choice these days is juice, and he prays at the altar of Australian Joe Cross and his juicing revolution. "I think Joe Cross is brill," Taylor says, adding that a concoction of cucumber, kale, beetroot and alfalfa is his perfect combination. He's lost the best part of 30 kilograms since last year, and credited his slim figure when he clinched this year's World Championship on New Year's Day. He's not alone. Professional players, according to Taylor, are far from pint-drinking, chain-smoking blobs. "Maybe in the local leagues," he says. The pros are different. We're very serious now. We're like rugby players. They used to be a bit overweight, but they're athletes now ... There are a lot of lads who are quite fit [in darts]. Perhaps not Sonny Bill Williams fit, but fit. Sort of fit. Juice fit. Of course, Taylor has the last laugh. Last year, his worth was estimated to be about $17.3 million. He's made $1.2 million in prizemoney this year. After this tournament, he's off to his villa in Tenerife in the Canary Islands. When he first started out, in the 1980s, he juggled three jobs as a sheet-metal worker, barman and someone who made ceramic toilet-roll holders. "It was tough but I was happy," he says. I didn't have any money, so everything was exciting for me. I would be playing a tournament and think, 'If I get through this round, I've then gone from 20 quid to 40 quid and for 40 quid I can buy some new towels. Or a new settee if I make the final. If I bought a car then, it was 50 quid. And I was excited about it. Now, if I buy a new car, I won't be. Taylor once said buying a Bentley won't make you happy. "It doesn't," he says, smiling. There are two good days when you buy a Bentley. The day you buy it and the day you sell it. Because you never stop putting petrol in. Taylor has also seen a revolution in his sport that has made it a television phenomenon. Tickets for three nights of competition at Luna Park sold out in minutes. The Sydney crowd, according to aficionados, is as raucous as darts hotspot Blackpool in England - but not as notorious as Glasgow, where Taylor was spat on earlier this year. "But the crowd usually helps you," Taylor says. It's like a big train. Yes! Yeeeesssss! When you are playing bad, you can hear a pin drop. Every bit of crowd noise. Every little jibe at you. When you are playing well, you go into a bubble and you don't hear it and you don't care. You're like, so what? Then they boo you. I say, 'If you're booing me now imagine how much you will be booing me when I beat your mate."' Asked if he is sledged regularly, he says: "Not when you are nine-darting." A nine-dart finish is a perfect leg in the game of darts, using only nine darts, the fewest possible, to checkout from 501. He continues: "Because most of them have had a little wager on the nine-dart as well." That's not to say The Power is always, er, on. He's been involved in several controversies over the years, but there have been two notable ones of late. He had words with Barneveld after the big Dutchman shook his hand too vigorously in January. At the time, Taylor said he was thinking about retirement. Really? "No, that only lasted a day," he says. It's all forgotten with now. It was a bit naughty that day. I wasn't very well at all. He was grabbing me and I said let go. I think you do [think of retirement] at times. I'm away all the time. The travel does get on top of you. You're not a pop singer where you have two years off. You're back on the road again. It does become difficult. You have your ups and downs in life and it can get on top of you. If I say anything, it's all over the press. So I have to keep my mouth shut now. His mentor Eric Bristow called him a cheat two months ago after he won a leg in a tournament in Gibraltar with a double 12 that finished outside the wire, but was called in. There are two referees on the game, you can't cheat on darts. It's impossible," Taylor says. The double I thought was in, the referee thought it was in. I didn't cheat. I would never cheat. I don't need to. The only person who called me a cheat was Eric, but he said he never said it. He was like my brother; I wouldn't say he's my biggest fan. Perhaps what keeps Taylor going, though, is his legacy. Michael van Gerwen looms as the heir apparent. "He's a good player, is Michael," Taylor says. Asked if he likes putting the upstart back in his box, the response takes a nanosecond to come flying back: "I have done." At the time of writing, it was unknown if Taylor had progressed to Saturday's finals. If he has, you can be certain the fans will be singing another signature tune when it comes to the best professional darts player and juice advocate that ever lived. There's only one Phil Taylor! Walking along, singing a song, walking in a Taylor wonderland! If not, they'll have to do with this one ...