I’m talking, of course, about the retirement of Phil “The Power” Taylor. Two Mondays ago, Taylor stepped up to the oche for the last time in a professional capacity, to play Rob Cross in the final of the PDC World Darts Championship. Taylor, aged 57 and going for his 17th world title, lost 7-2. And now he has hung up his tungstens.

It’s strange to think, but there are surfers out there who don’t even know who Phil “The Power” Taylor is. They go about their lives — checking the surf, walking the dog, watering the garden — oblivious to his existence, confident in their barely questioned assumption that Kelly Slater is the greatest athlete of all time. Mind-boggling. Then again, this time a fortnight ago I didn’t know who George Digweed was.

“Well, a man should know when to leave the party”

Taylor and Slater have not aged with Federer’s grace. Taylor won his last world title in 2013, Slater his in 2011, but the problem’s not been so much the decline of their abilities, which in itself has hardly been drastic, as the public struggle to come to terms with that decline.

“The problem’s not been so much the decline of their abilities, which in itself has hardly been drastic, as the public struggle to come to terms with that decline”

If passive aggression were a competitive sport it would be hard to choose between them, and neither would have to think about retiring any time soon. Meanwhile they’ve become increasingly inventive in their efforts to divert attention from their own failures and from others’ successes.

Both, in other words, have at various times resembled the drunk guy who, redolent of alcohol and desperation, won’t take the hint that it’s time to go home.

As I say, I’m sympathetic. Alcohol and desperation is my default aroma. I also find, slightly to my consternation, that I’m heavily invested in the whole “greatest ever” mythology — the entirely nonsensical idea that, just as everyone is tied by fate to one true love and one alone, so there is in each sport a greatest ever, someone who not only never has been but never will be bettered.

Such a figure sounds suspiciously Christ-like, and it’s possible that the idea appeals precisely to that part of my brain shaped by a vaguely religious upbringing and since emptied of vaguely religious beliefs. In any case, I always want Slater to win. I can’t help it.

“In any case, I always want Slater to win. I can’t help it”

Speaking of the workings of my subconscious, I hadn’t even noticed the Taylor-Tailor connection until now. (Slater would be Tinker, if we had to assign parts, although Soldier and Spy would also fit.) And while we’re on the subject, another thing I’m often put in mind of when I think of “The Power” is Indar Unanue. This is only partly because Indar means “power” in Basque.

Indar is not the GOAT, but he is like a goat, as the popular Spanish saying goes. To render a less literal translation, it means he’s a nutcase — the sort of man who grazes nonchalantly on the steepest inclines of Mount Shred. It’s also the case that he grew up on a farm in the Basque countryside, and I’d bet money he’s herded a goat or two in his time. (Is it possible to herd a goat, singular?)

Here’s his latest clip. You should watch it, if only in appreciation of that seamless segue.

INDAR UNANUE 2017 SHOW REEL from Jon Aspuru on Vimeo.