The roar of the crowd at the ETBF International Darts Open in Riesa, Germany, was meant to signal another thrilling chapter in the PDC’s packed calendar—a weekend filled with pinpoint precision, intense rivalries, and the satisfying thud of darts finding triple 20. But on a crisp April Saturday in 2025, the attention shifted from the oche to a brewing confrontation between two starkly different personalities: James “The Machine” Wade and Cameron Menzies.
What played out was less a straightforward match and more a lesson in provocation. Wade’s refusal to accept Menzies’ offered handshake before the decisive leg sparked immediate and heated criticism. For the 42-year-old Englishman—still reeling from a “disgusting” controversy with world number one Luke Humphries just a month earlier—this latest episode felt like a repeat, a pointed snub that reignited fierce discussions about respect, sportsmanship, and the blurry boundary between competitive edge and outright disrespect.
Wade’s image as darts’ enigmatic troublemaker has long preceded him. A 2007 world champion with 11 major PDC titles—including three World Matchplays and two UK Opens—”The Machine” is celebrated for his unflinching focus and lethal accuracy. Yet it’s his love of psychological games that often steals the headlines. In Riesa, he faced gritty Scottish qualifier Menzies, a 29-year-old underdog renowned for his toughness and fearless style. The contest came down to a tense decider, with Menzies having dragged Wade to the brink through bold scoring and timely finishes.
As the players prepared for the all-important leg, Menzies extended his hand in a customary good-luck gesture. Wade turned away, arms folded, offering no handshake, no acknowledgment. The crowd’s initial murmur grew into boos, and social media lit up with outrage: fans labeled it “disrespectful to the core” and accused Wade of undermining the game’s spirit.
This wasn’t an isolated slip. It echoed an earlier storm from the 2025 UK Open in Minehead, a tournament already packed with drama. There, Wade met Humphries—”Cool Hand Luke”—in a gripping quarter-final. Humphries, fresh off his 2024 world title and a string of majors, entered as the clear favorite. But Wade battled to a 10-9 win, sealing it with a stunning late surge: six 180s across the final three legs, a clutch average near 140, and a checkout rate around 52.5%. His match average was a solid but unspectacular 99 compared to Humphries’ 102, yet Wade’s composure in the key moments carried him to the semis—where he crushed Josh Rock 11-2—before losing 11-2 to teenage sensation Luke Littler in the final.
Behind the numbers, though, tension had been building. On stage before the match, as the players greeted each other, Wade leaned in and appeared to lick the back of Humphries’ neck—a strange, invasive move that left the champion visibly unsettled. The match featured prolonged staredowns and deliberate pauses. By the deciding leg, the usual handshake or fist bump never materialized—just Wade’s blank expression and Humphries’ evident irritation.
Humphries, praised days earlier for his gracious support of young Beau Greaves after her emotional exit, later vented in a now-deleted social media post: “Everyone loves to see people be a bad loser but I’m generally one of the best losers in the sport… I wasn’t going to give someone who didn’t deserve my respect after what he was doing through the game a hug and be all happy about it. That’s just my honesty.”
The darts community reacted strongly. Former major winner Paul Nicholson called the lick “disgusting” and suggested the Darts Regulation Authority (DRA) investigate. “There had seemingly been tensions building throughout, and they didn’t exchange the usual handshake or fist bump before the deciding leg,” Nicholson told Sporting Life. “Wade licking Humphries’ neck before the match began may have been an issue. I’m with Luke on this one… If you are going to play games and do things within a competitive environment that cross the line, then don’t expect respect in return.” Hashtags like #WadeOut trended briefly on X, with pundits debating whether these were clever mind games or outright bullying. Wade, in his Daily Star column, largely ignored the uproar, instead highlighting his performance: “The reason I have done so well when I have played in the UK Open is timing it right to perform at my best in the big moments… in the last three legs I hit six 180s, had something close to a 140 average and ultimately finished my doubles when those opportunities were given to me.”
The Riesa snub with Menzies amplified the backlash, replicating the Humphries pattern almost exactly. Menzies later downplayed it—”It’s darts, emotions run high”—but the incident fueled more debate. On the Darts Draait Door podcast, Dutch pro Damian Vloet remarked, “That’s typical Wade, isn’t it?” while Vincent van der Voort defended the handshake refusal: “I’m not there to be friendly. I’m there to win.” He also referenced Wade’s notoriously slow walk-on that weekend, joking it outlasted even the flashiest entrances from Dimitri Van den Bergh and Stephen Bunting.
For Wade—a veteran who’s endured slumps like three consecutive second-round World Championship exits and celebrated comebacks—these moments threaten to overshadow his achievements. Earlier in 2025, he had criticized the modern game as “very robotic,” claiming it lacked the colorful personalities of legends like Phil Taylor and Adrian Lewis: “I don’t think there’s many characters in the game. They feel much of a muchness.”
In today’s sleek, broadcast-ready PDC era, Wade’s old-school bravado clashes with expectations of polished camaraderie. The DRA has issued no fines or suspensions yet, though murmurs of complaints persist. As the season pushes toward events like the World Grand Prix, with stars like Littler and Humphries setting new standards, Wade teeters on the edge. Is he a shrewd veteran using every tool to unsettle opponents? Or an outdated figure whose provocations now harm the sport he once helped define? In the wake of Riesa, one truth stands out: Darts lives on fierce rivalries, but when gestures of respect vanish, the oche starts feeling less like a shared arena and more like a divided front line.