Here's a guest blog from the great Dan Dawson.
I've got a mate who is a nightmare to play FIFA with on Playstation.
If he's losing by a considerable amount, he'll start walking the ball into his own net, smugly saying "it cheapens your victory".
As such, a rule was decided amongst us, that if you lose by five goals or more, you have to write a public apology on your opponent's Facebook page.
If you lose by 10 goals, then you have to write a formal letter of apology to your opponent's parents.
Make no mistake, my mate is a bit of a dick, but having spent some time watching professional darts, I think I now have a degree of sympathy with him - saving face is important for future success.
You see, it's often that a dart player will lose a match and have a ready excuse for why he didn't play as well as he could have:
"It's the crowd - they were too noisy."
"He was slowing me down."
"How's your luck?"
"He was jangling change in his pocket when I was throwing."
(That last one is a genuine complaint one player made, when his opponent didn't have anything in his pocket whatsoever)
It's also gives me an excuse to reference one of my own interviews, when Paul Nicholson essentially blamed his defeat to Kim Huybrechts on Kim's other half Dana being too pretty:
Phil Taylor even gets his excuses in pre-emptively for the rare occasions he loses:
"Well... I am 53 years old, you know."
Some of these are undoubtedly factors in the outcome of matches, but also ones that - if you have serious ambitions on being one of the best darters in the world - you need to just find a way of getting over.
But maybe it's more than that.
On that stage, under that pressure, one on one, with thousands screaming at you, how hard must it be to come away and accept that you weren't the better man?
How do you do that, and come back next time, convinced that you are the best? - that you can, and will, sweep aside all before you?
Michael van Gerwen puts his ludicrous rise from also-ran to second-best player in the world down to one thing: confidence.
To be able to externalise your shortcomings on something else gives a player a chance to still come off stage as a winner, still believing that next time they play they'll produce their A-Game.
That tiny nugget of belief, buried deep in their psyche, is the same thing that can carry them through a tough match - the same reserves they call upon to hit an 83 checkout in the business end of a World Championship quarter-final (see van Gerwen v Lewis 2013 below)
(It's right about now that I should point out that Adrian is probably the most honest darts player I've ever met, and will readily say he was rubbish if he doesn't play well.)
But for some players, every time they're beaten, to admit they weren't the better man in this straight gladiatorial fight, can erode those reserves of belief that they need.
If that little pearl of character, guts, bottle - whatever you want to call it - is whittled away... it can become little more than a speck of grit.
It's like Yoda (probably) said: "Loss leads to doubt... doubt leads to fear... fear leads to Baaaarney."
We have all seen what self-doubt has done to one of the greatest talents in the world.
Maybe if the five-time World Champion blamed it on something else, instead of constantly beating himself up, he might still be frightening the life out of Taylor on a regular basis.
James Wade entered previously unchartered excuse territory at the Grand Prix, telling The Power that he "gave up" before the end of their match.
If that isn't a way of "cheapening your victory", I don't know what is; but it certainly allowed Wade to walk off stage being able to claim, 'it might've been different if I'd really tried.'
Phil deserves an apology... probably on Facebook.
The formal written one to his parents is reserved for only the most serious of cases.
Dan Dawson is a darts journalist.