Phil Taylor, the 16-time world champion, has opened up about the hard-edged mentorship of Eric Bristow that drove him to greatness. Speaking on the Double Tops podcast, “The Power” recalled how Bristow’s relentless prodding made him angry — and how that anger worked. “Eric Bristow was a big influence on me. He’d say, 'Where are you going this weekend?' I’d say, 'I’m playing in the Derbyshire Open.' He’d tell me, 'Ring me when you’re on your way back and let me know how you got on.' There were no mobiles in those days, so I had to find a working phone box—half of them were wrecked.”
Taylor described the frustration of finally getting through to Bristow after a decent result, only to be dismissed. “I’d get through and say, 'I got beat in the semis.' And he’d go, 'Ring me when you effing win something.' I’d just passed 20 phone boxes trying to call him, and he’d tell me to ring back when I’d won.” Even at major tournaments, Bristow kept pushing. When Taylor travelled to the Winter Gardens in Blackpool with several shirts, Bristow told him he’d only need two. “I’d look at him and think, 'Yeah, I do.' Then I’d go and win each round. Afterward, he’d say, 'I knew that would wind you up.'”
Taylor also revealed that winning a world title was often an anticlimax. “It’s a bit of an anticlimax, really. It’s been your dream—like winning the lottery. For about five days, it’s great.” After that comes the void. “You do all your press, radio, TV interviews. But after that, you come down from it and feel quite emotional—very weepy.” Despite this, Taylor kept his focus simple: “I only ever played the player in front of me. Sometimes I didn’t even know who I’d face next.” He contrasted this with players who look ahead and become complacent. “Some players think, 'I’ve got him—I beat him every time. Then I’ve got him next.' That’s when complacency creeps in. They’re already thinking about the semi-finals, and then they lose in the first round because they’re not focused on the job.”
Taylor’s mental resilience was shaped by his upbringing. “If I’d said I had mental health issues, my mother would have said, 'Are you a man or a mouse? Get on with it.'” He recalled how his mother would get him out of bed — if necessary with a bucket of water. “Next time I even thought about it, she’d be coming upstairs and I was already up, out the door.” His father’s lesson was equally blunt: “Right, you’ve won that—put the trophy over there. Get ready for the next one. You’re only as good as your next tournament.”
Money was Taylor’s biggest motivation at the start. He spent his first prize money, £500, on a luxury item: a shower. “Nobody had a shower back then. People were knocking on the door: 'Phil, can I have a look at your shower?'” When he won his first world title and earned £24,000, neighbours again came knocking. “Phil, can we have a look at that money? I’ve never seen £24,000.' I said, 'I haven’t got it—it’s in the bank. It’s a cheque.'” Taylor won no fewer than 101 official TV tournaments during his PDC career, including 83 majors.
