A personal recollection of a game of snooker.
Reproduced here with kind permission of Geoff.
Back in the Eighties when I was a decent player,
I got to the final of the Leicestershire Individual Final in two consecutive years. This tournament was the premier event in Leicestershire and
attracted the best players in the county. To reach two consecutive finals had never been done before and more amazingly, by me, (who had a
full-time job), beating full-time players! Nearly all the players I beat were better than me, but maybe they underestimated me; thinking that
because I only played a fraction of what they played that I had no chance! I just managed to raise my game for the occasion.
One year I was drawn against Sean Marsh from Braunstone, (a demon potter who had played my team mate only weeks before and made him look very
ordinary), in the semi-final. I was very wary of Sean's ability, and envious of his reputation; he had beaten many a good player on many occasions.
The venue was Osborne's Snooker club in Cank Street; Leicester's first and foremost snooker club with old billiards tables that were as
tight-pocketed as was humanly possible, very similar to table 3 at the Stute.
My Parent's were very proud and arranged a 24 seater coach party to support me. I felt like Norman Dagley - but without the talent! As we piled in
to the dark and dingy match room, everyone looked on with faces that said; "There's gonna be a lot of disappointed people, there!"
The table was ancient, with pockets that consisted of just a net - no rail, so the balls were lifted out of the pocket. On one side of the table was
a large scoreboard and on the other was two rows of tiered seating with about 20 - 25 seats in total. My family and friends virtually filled it,
and I was really relaxed due to the support. As everyone found their seats and got comfortable, I saw Sean walk in with his support party; his
girlfriend! He obviously thought that it was going to be a quick and easy match and then off down the pub! But to me it was a big match. Yes,
I've beaten better players, but not with all my family and friends watching in the semi-final of Leicester's biggest tournament!
The referee was the lovable Jim Kerr. He had officiated in lots of my matches previously and I loved the bloke. He was the best referee in
Leicestershire, Alan Chamberlain included, (he is the referee off the tv), and he was always asked to referee the big matches, and I was pleased
because poor referees can lose you games with poor decisions. Jim was the best and he didn't make silly mistakes.
The match was the best of 7 and as I got down to break off for frame one , I could hardly keep still, I was so nervous. Sean knocked in a long red
that hit the back of the pocket with a 'crack' and I thought.
'Oh no, here we go. I am going to be home in time to see the Nine O'clock News'.
A colour later and then a missed red left me in with a chance and before I knew it I was 1 - 0 up.
I glanced at my supporters who were all smiling and giving me the 'thumbs-up' sign and I was so pleased that I was close to tears. Time seemed to
flash by and I was playing so well and Sean couldn't pot a ball! I was having a 'purple patch' and everything I attempted either worked or went
my way. Sean was getting more frustrated and kept looking at me as though to say;
"How are you beating me! This isn't in the script."
I was 4 - 0 up, only needing one more frame to win, and I was on cloud nine. Every shot I played went my way, luck was on my side and all the run
was going my way. I was in heaven.
I was left an easy red, which I potted and left me a long straight blue. I lined it up and got down for the shot. As I struck the white, I knew
that the blue was going into the pocket and lifted my head up sharply to show my confidence and move to my next shot. As I lifted, I banged my
head on the lightshade so hard, that it swung like a playground swing, throwing off about 30 years worth of dust into the air. My head was throbbing,
and I remember Jim Kerr trying his best to grab the lightshade as it swung uncontrollably from side to side, momentarily lighting the scoreboard
then the faces of my supporters, then the scoreboard, then supporters.....
I was dieing to rub my head but was too embarrassed to do so. I could see stars in front of me and found it impossible to focus on anyone. I looked
at the table, the balls now covered in dust and people coughing and waving their hands to disperse the 'fog'.
Jim eventually managed to bring the lightshade to a standstill, but the dust was like a swarm of bees! I looked at my parents and couldn't make out
their faces due to the stars that I was seeing, and I heard Jim literally shout;
"Six". This was the break I was on, a red and a blue, before the commotion and this was the sign to continue the match.
I approached the table and genuinely couldn't remember if I was 'on' a red or a colour. I asked Jim what break I was on and he told me but he wasn't
allowed to tell me what ball I was to play. I played a red and was elated when he didn't call a foul.
I went on to win the frame and match but didn't take my luck or confidence into the final, where I lost 5 - 3 to a Terry Davidson, a Canadian
professional based in Leicester.
Geoff Kenney.