When you are a professional darts player called ‘Wolfie’, a former three‑times world champion still grounded enough to enjoy playing for free in the local leagues, it is obvious why a pub will open just for you before 10 o’clock on a Friday morning. Murky sunlight seeps into The Bell in Deeping St James, not far from Peterborough, as Martin ‘Wolfie’ Adams discusses a silent killer.
“A lot of people call it the silent killer because there are not necessarily any symptoms,” Adams says of prostate cancer, which took hold of him in the spring of 2016. “I didn’t have any symptoms and I know lots of people that have never had any symptoms – or it’s been minor stuff they’ve brushed aside.”
Even when there are early warnings, men still succumb. “Yeah,” Adams says, “men are terrible at talking about our health, aren’t we? It’s one of those things we’ve got to learn to do. You can’t leave it to the women chattering in the corner. You’ve got to talk amongst yourselves.”
Even the landlord has stopped hoovering, and pulled up a chair at the bar, so he can listen in at a discreet distance. Wintry light catches the chunky sovereign rings on Adams’s fingers as his voice resounds around the hushed pub. “Some of my friends found it quite difficult to talk to me. I used to drink in here with a guy and when it came out in the public domain that I’d got prostate cancer I was chatting to him down the rugby club. He went: ‘You didn’t know I had it, did you? I had the operation a few years ago and you never knew, did you?’ I said: ‘No, because you never bloody told me.’ Us blokes just don’t talk about it. We should do.”
I have been sent some stark statistics by Macmillan Cancer Support, the charity which helps so many people when they face the suddenly brutal prospect of death. Men are 14% more likely to be stricken with cancer than women; and 37% more likely to die than female cancer patients. They are also much less likely to ask for help.
“One in eight men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer,” Adams says. “And if you’re black it’s one in four. Unbelievable. It shouldn’t just be down to charitable organisations – the government should be doing more. They should stop wasting money elsewhere and channel it into cancer research. But our government does some bloody silly things.”
The 61-year-old Adams will lead a Macmillan campaign “aimed at working men. Blokes on the building site. You come in the pub but, instead of talking about football, talk about your health. You can bet your life if you’ve got eight blokes in here one of them could have prostate cancer and not know it.”
How did Adams discover he had cancer? “Purely by chance. I was giving up smoking and I was going on the Champix tablets. My GP is very good and said: ‘If you want to do that we’ll do a full set of blood tests first. So he did the blood tests and then I had a phone call: ‘We’ve booked you an appointment with oncology in Peterborough.’”
Adams shakes his head at the memory of the blood tests, MRI scans and biopsies that consumed him. “I remember the consultant showed me the MRI and said: ‘My interpretation is there are cancer cells just there and unfortunately that’s the most difficult part of the prostate to reach for biopsies. So we want you to do it again.’ They found cancer on the second lot of biopsies. You then go through a full-body bone scan to make sure it’s not gone in the bones. That was all clear. So I had 20 radiotherapy sessions over four weeks.”
Adams could not be sure if the cancer would be destroyed but he says: “I never thought about death. I had a lot of good friends who said you’ve got to remain positive. I got through the radiotherapy and then you wait eight weeks – and that is the longest eight weeks of your life.
“That last week drags and drags. You’ve got to have your PSA [prostate specific antigen] blood test first and mine was 0.01, virtually untraceable. I said: ‘Is that an all‑clear?’ The consultant said: ‘It’s as good an all-clear as we can give.’ They would never give you 100% because, unfortunately, cancer has a habit of coming back. It’s not something you dwell on. You just carry on.
“But with all the hormone treatment during radiotherapy you get emotional. You cry for no reason. Leigh [his partner] would say: ‘What are you crying for?’ I would say: ‘I don’t know.’ [Adams laughs.] Straight after radiotherapy I did the British Classic on a Saturday, the British Open on the Sunday. Played all right in the Classic but the following day I couldn’t hit a thing.”
Adams twirls his big Wolfman ring and cackles. “It got into the public domain because I chatted with Bob French – the local sports editor. We were talking about an upcoming event and I said: ‘Experience tells me I’ll be good one day and rubbish the next.’ He went: ‘Why?’ I said: ‘I’ve been struggling and the prostate cancer isn’t helping.’ He said: ‘Pardon?’ I went: ‘Oops. It’s out there now.’ The support I’ve had from people is incredible. I go to Tesco on a Monday morning and they’re all asking: ‘How’s your health?’ My checks are every six months and the next one is in May – which will be the two-year mark.”
Has cancer changed him? “Yeah, it made me value the simple things in life. My gardening got brilliant. It’s very peaceful in the garden, tinkering away, and this time of year is great because I just put my tomato seeds in. My tomatoes and marrows are brilliant.”
Adams has slipped to 27th in the BDO rankings since his cancer treatment began. Last month he lost narrowly, 3-2, in the first round against the organisation’s No 1 player Mark McGeeney. It was his 25th successive appearance in the BDO’s landmark tournament at Lakeside and he is proud not to have left to play on the much richer and far more popular PDC circuit – where his old rival Phil Taylor reached the final this year in his last match before retiring.
“Money isn’t everything,” Adams says, looking bemused by the hugely successful PDC world championships at Alexandra Palace which precedes the less overblown BDO version. “I’ve got no desire to go to Ally Pally. Most people are there just for the drink and the party and I find that strange. A ticket is £30 or £40. Imagine if you said to someone coming into the pub: ‘I’m going to charge you £30 to come in and you can get as drunk as you like, sing as much as you like and I’m going to overcharge you on the beer.’ Would they come in? No. Why they do it at Ally Pally is beyond my belief. Lakeside is true darts supporters. If somebody tries a sing‑song people shut them up. We have a fantastic atmosphere at Lakeside. It’s proper darts.”
The best players today are all on the PDC circuit but Adams shrugs when asked if Taylor and Michael van Gerwen are the greatest he has faced. “They’re great on their day and when they’re hitting it they’re unbeatable. But for me the greatest player of all time is Eric Bristow [who won five world titles compared to Taylor’s 16]. Eric got to two world finals with dartitis [the equivalent of the yips in golf]. He didn’t win either but that shows his true grit.”
Adams is less glowing towards Taylor, whom he played against so often before they ended up in the rival BDO and PDC camps. It is hard to imagine Taylor emulating Adams by playing in the local leagues for free. “Not really, no,” Adams agrees. “I’m not sure he’s got any mates, to be honest. He’s a great dart player, Phil, but he’s not someone I’d ring up and say ‘Do you fancy a beer?’, because he’d only want to talk about darts. That would bore me.”
He talks cheerfully about hoping to play county darts until he is 75 but Adams is more intent on raising awareness of cancer. Rightly praising the tests for cervical cancer in women, he laments the absence of screening for prostate cancer in men. “There’s a drive within Prostate Cancer UK to have a screening process implemented. That will happen.”
In the meantime, the Wolfman will keep fighting cancer. He opens his phone and shows me a photograph of his black van which has been painted with a huge Man of Men silver badge and the Prostate Cancer UK website. Adams planned to pay for the paintwork himself. “I went to see the people who will do it and I asked the young man for a quote. He said: ‘I had a word with the boss. He really likes it. Provided we can take some photos of the van with you, you can have it free.’”
Adams laughs when I say I can imagine him driving around in his Man of Men black van, blasting out his walk-on darts music, Hungry Like The Wolf. “I’ll always be hungry like a wolf. You’ve got to enjoy life, haven’t you? I think my van is going to be noticed. It’s definitely going to spread awareness about prostate cancer.”
Macmillan Cancer Support works with the construction, electrical and home improvement sectors to support men with cancer – www.macmillan.org.uk/saytheword
