I started watching the game early. I spent time at my great-grandparents back in the days of black and white telly, and was introduced to cue sports through pot black. It made no sense....though I do remember watching the "for those of you with black and white televisions, the blue is behind the pink.." (or whichever colours it was) 'live', and being amused. I was too young to have been anywhere that even had a snooker table at that point.
Thanks to Princess Anne deciding to get married, our household was enlivened by the appearance of a colour television set. I watched pretty much all, and every, televised snooker match that I could. I remember Higgins (the irish one), John Spencer, Doug Mountjoy, Virgo, players of the mid-to-late seventies. I also remember the emergence of Terry Griffiths. Exciting. You probably had to be there. Who would have thought Terry Griffiths could be thought exciting!
Then it happened. Davis. The master cueman. Ice cold and automaton like, but playing video games in his spare time - just like me. It was love. Not just the snooker - fantastic safety, impeccable position, ruthless breakbuilding - but the embodiment (at that time) of the perfect snooker machine. Technique, composure, shot selection, unbending will. Why have emotion, when you could have unbreakable technique? He destroyed snooker in the eighties, and I cheered him on. I like to think without Steve Davis modern snooker wouldn't have happened in the same way, and I still cling to that view.....unwilling to relinquish his place in my head as the best player there ever was, even if silly things like evidence prove otherwise. In my head, he's the theorist, the master of technique, the most cunning of safety players...simply the best.
Having watched players from that sort of era, I have a wrong view of the game. For me safety is what makes snooker. Breakbuilding worries me little. I'm not good at it....but for me the game is won or lost in the creation or denial of opportunity. All that prevents that from bring true in my case is my inability to score...but in the professional game, where players can win a frame in one visit, it's more true than it ever was. I will watch the slim pickings of safety play deemed worthy of highlights packages, and fast forward through the breaks until someone misses. I don't deny the skill, or excitement of compiling a frame winning break. I'd kill, other peoples children in confined spaces or politicians certainly, to be able to make a century, and be able to do it again because it wasn't a fluke. I also have funny ideas about breaks (the colours at the end don't really count, do they? I mean almost everyone who can hold a cue the right way around has cleared the colours at times, surely?). But for me, it's the safety. It's what elevates snooker above the humdrum. It's what separates us from the animals. It's the game.
Just not at my level.
I've only ever really played recreationally. With a friend or two from school, with peers at university, with sports minded friends. I've had a bit of time practicing, but less in a lifetime than a pro has in a month. I've generally been amongst the better players that I have played with, but there's been no decent club level play. No consistency. No regular games. Friends that I have played with have emigrated, or developed injuries that keep them from the game, or just got bored. My snooker hall of choice (Beeston) has ceased to exist due to the sad demise of the excellent, inventive, and knowledgable Dave Gibson, and a wrist injury to my bridge hand, all combine to mean that I've barely played anything but the odd frame for three or four years.
It's time to start again though. Much as I love my Parris Ambassador, I came to believe that I needed a bigger tipped cue, with a less whippy shaft to develop consistency and improve...and I was missing far too many mid-length balls as my physical prowess and eyesight deteriorate. I sought options, one of which was to gamble on a James Butter cue. Searching the internet for opinion on these, led me here. It might not cure anything, but trying might get me back to the table more.
That's the plan. See you there, if you're in.
Thanks to Princess Anne deciding to get married, our household was enlivened by the appearance of a colour television set. I watched pretty much all, and every, televised snooker match that I could. I remember Higgins (the irish one), John Spencer, Doug Mountjoy, Virgo, players of the mid-to-late seventies. I also remember the emergence of Terry Griffiths. Exciting. You probably had to be there. Who would have thought Terry Griffiths could be thought exciting!
Then it happened. Davis. The master cueman. Ice cold and automaton like, but playing video games in his spare time - just like me. It was love. Not just the snooker - fantastic safety, impeccable position, ruthless breakbuilding - but the embodiment (at that time) of the perfect snooker machine. Technique, composure, shot selection, unbending will. Why have emotion, when you could have unbreakable technique? He destroyed snooker in the eighties, and I cheered him on. I like to think without Steve Davis modern snooker wouldn't have happened in the same way, and I still cling to that view.....unwilling to relinquish his place in my head as the best player there ever was, even if silly things like evidence prove otherwise. In my head, he's the theorist, the master of technique, the most cunning of safety players...simply the best.
Having watched players from that sort of era, I have a wrong view of the game. For me safety is what makes snooker. Breakbuilding worries me little. I'm not good at it....but for me the game is won or lost in the creation or denial of opportunity. All that prevents that from bring true in my case is my inability to score...but in the professional game, where players can win a frame in one visit, it's more true than it ever was. I will watch the slim pickings of safety play deemed worthy of highlights packages, and fast forward through the breaks until someone misses. I don't deny the skill, or excitement of compiling a frame winning break. I'd kill, other peoples children in confined spaces or politicians certainly, to be able to make a century, and be able to do it again because it wasn't a fluke. I also have funny ideas about breaks (the colours at the end don't really count, do they? I mean almost everyone who can hold a cue the right way around has cleared the colours at times, surely?). But for me, it's the safety. It's what elevates snooker above the humdrum. It's what separates us from the animals. It's the game.
Just not at my level.
I've only ever really played recreationally. With a friend or two from school, with peers at university, with sports minded friends. I've had a bit of time practicing, but less in a lifetime than a pro has in a month. I've generally been amongst the better players that I have played with, but there's been no decent club level play. No consistency. No regular games. Friends that I have played with have emigrated, or developed injuries that keep them from the game, or just got bored. My snooker hall of choice (Beeston) has ceased to exist due to the sad demise of the excellent, inventive, and knowledgable Dave Gibson, and a wrist injury to my bridge hand, all combine to mean that I've barely played anything but the odd frame for three or four years.
It's time to start again though. Much as I love my Parris Ambassador, I came to believe that I needed a bigger tipped cue, with a less whippy shaft to develop consistency and improve...and I was missing far too many mid-length balls as my physical prowess and eyesight deteriorate. I sought options, one of which was to gamble on a James Butter cue. Searching the internet for opinion on these, led me here. It might not cure anything, but trying might get me back to the table more.
That's the plan. See you there, if you're in.
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