A Personal View by Geoff Kenney,
Geoff's reflections on his meeting Norman Dagley.
Reproduced here with kind permission of Geoff.
On October 22nd 1979, my Parents, Brian and Doreen, took over as Steward and Stewardess of the Hinckley Liberal Club on Mansion Street,
Hinckley.
I was already struck by the snooker ‘bug’ and to hear that the current English Billiards champion was resident at my new home, although I’d
never heard of Norman Dagley, was great news.
Within a month, I had met Sam Alkin, a pensioner who was a friend and follower of Norman, who had told me how good he was and that he was the best
in the World.
I was 16, and although I had only been playing snooker for a few months, had half a dozen sixty breaks to my credit and was in the County under 18
squad. To be a snooker professional was my aim, and to have ‘the best player in the world’ at my local, albeit billiards not snooker, didn’t matter
to me. I knew how much harder billiards is to play than snooker; anyone who has played will know.
They are similar games in a lot of respects, and I was hoping to meet this Norman Dagley to see how he could help me and to see what his thoughts
were on the games.
After getting into the Hinckley Liberal ‘B’ team, I was a regular face in the snooker room, and I had met some very good players as well as
characters. Walter Egginton was my regular practice partner along with his sons Neil and Malcolm who was my long-time pair’s partner. Ronnie Jones
from Coventry and the brilliant Alan Orton from Burbage; one of the finest players ever to play in the Hinckley League.
But where was this Norman fellow? Everyone talked about him, sang his praises and boasted about him, but I had never even seen him. And I was
here seven nights a week!
New Years Eve that year and The Liberal Club was the place to be. The membership was booming, times were good and I had met lots of new friends due
to my skill on the snooker table. One of them, Phil Howkins, a great bloke but not a snooker player, had seen me play and praised my ability for my
age, invited me to the party in the concert room that evening. It was packed and everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves to the music of ‘Ronda’ a local band. As time was getting on I noticed a chap at the bar in a white sports jacket that seemed to glow in the dark. He stood out like a sore thumb and I said to Phil, “Look at that bloke there”.
“That’s Norman Dagley”, he replied.
The sound of my jaw hitting the ground was deafening.
He was chatting to the locals, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him now but for the rest of the night he was never on his own; there was always
someone with him. How was I going to talk to him if he wasn’t approachable? And what would I say to him? If this bloke was as good as he was
portrayed, he wouldn’t want to talk to a spotty 16 year old kid who thought he could play the game.
The night came to a close, and Phil had introduced me to his friends, and I chatted to them politely but with one eye on Norman. Yes, he did look
strange, but he had an aura about him that I can’t explain to this day.
“You are a good snooker player I hear”, he said.
My reply was that I hoped to be a lot better.
What seemed like a second went by before someone had butted into our conversation and taken Norman off to sit down as though my two minutes with
him were up. I was gutted. My Mum was sitting on the seating by the bar with a lady that she later introduced me to as Nita, (pronounced NEETA).
She was Norman’s wife. She was a lovely woman and very proud of Norman. He was a local celebrity.
I sat down and listened to Norman telling stories of his experiences in different countries and the famous people that he had met. He used words
like “Guy” where we would say ‘man’ or’ bloke’ and he called the men that were talking to him “Dad” instead of “Mate”. Of course “Guy” is used often
nowadays but not in the early eighties.
I noticed that he never raised his voice or shouted. When he spoke everyone listened. Sometimes it was like Jackanory; everyone gathered around
listening to a story narrated by Norman. Yes, Norman was a ‘cool customer’ who seemed above us ‘normal folk’ although I doubt whether he saw it that
way.
Every week I would see Norman in the concert room of the Hinckley Liberal Club. I was helping behind the bar at weekends and would often serve him
his usual pint bottle of Manns Brown Ale with a half pint glass, and he would stand at the lower bar that was only ever opened for special occasions
or when we were extremely busy. There was always entertainment on in the concert room by way of a group or single singer, and Norman was a regular.
It was his territory at the weekends; by day he worked at the Atack club in Nuneaton. The Manager was Bob Coles, a gentleman and friend of everyone.
One day it was very quiet, business-wise, and Bob asked Norman if he fancied a frame of snooker to pass the time. Norman disliked snooker, as
everyone who knew him would confirm, so declined. After a lengthy bout of pestering, Norman reluctantly agreed, played one frame, making a break
of 99 and then put his cue away and went back behind the bar.
Some of my fondest memories of Norman were on the trips out to some of the many CIU and All-England semi-finals and finals. There would always
be a couple of bus loads and they were some of the best days out that I have ever had. Trips to the Leeds Angler’s Club, Banbury and Mountain Ash in
Wales were venues that we visited more than once.
It was at Banbury, (not sure of the exact club), that holds my funniest story of Norman. We had been there all day watching him demolish one of the
top players in the UK, and everyone was in good spirits and ‘well-oiled’. One of the club’s Committee men told us all that due to us being such good
customers and spending all day at the venue, and spending lots of money, we could go into a private party in the concert room. We thanked him and
before long we were all dancing and enjoying ourselves at what turned out to be the local football team’s annual disco. That was until a fight broke
out between the locals on the dance floor and we all retreated to the back of the room.
I stood next to my girlfriend Dawn, now my Wife, and Norman stood in front of us in his usual white jacket. A local was trying to get to the fight
and join in but couldn’t push pass the mass of bodies watching and ended up between me and Norman. He shouted out a tirade of abuse at the dance
floor fighters, which went on for a good minute. While I was covering Dawn’s ears from the language, Norman turned round to face the thug, and said;
“Hey baby, just cool it!”
I looked at Dawn and knew that she was thinking what I was thinking; I don’t think this idiot is going to like being called “Baby”. But he didn’t
say a word. He just walked off. If I had said that, I would probably have ended up in casualty!
Living in the Hinckley Liberal Club had its perks. One of them was that I could play snooker while the club was closed. So every Sunday afternoon
I would play for a couple of hours on my own. One day I was just about to go downstairs to play when my Dad said that I couldn’t go because Norman
was practising due to a big match coming up. So I decided to watch him, if it was okay with him.
I opened the door to the snooker room slowly and there was Norman playing away.
“Do you mind if I watch?” I asked.
“I’ve finished now, would you like a game?”
“I would love one” I stuttered.
“Do you play billiards?” He asked.
“No”,
He proceeded to show me the basics of the game, but being a snooker player doesn’t make you a billiard player. We played a few shots and Norman
came to the table with all three balls in baulk.
“The idea is to get the opponents white on the top cushion behind the black spot”. He said.
I was lost. I thought this game was about cannons and in-offs.
He played a cannon, an in-off, a cannon, an in-off; and 162 break later he had my white behind the black spot where he spent what seemed like the
rest of the week playing “Postman’s knock”. He must have had a break of 300+. He was a machine! His cue action was perfect; as good as Ronnie
O’Sullivan or Steve Davis, if not better.
Talking of Steve Davis; in the Eighties, the Snooker and Billiard Association were trying to get billiards to be more spectator-friendly and
asked Norman to do an exhibition with the current Snooker champ. Davis was an excellent billiards player as well as ‘the best of his time’ at
snooker, but like any other brilliant snooker and billiard player had little chance against Norman. But Davis was the ‘King of the baize’ and
the most respected cueist at the time and he demanded respect. After annihilating Davis, Norman turned to him and said;
“Stick to snooker, Son”.
Only Norman could say that.
I would have loved to have been a snooker professional. One day talking to one of Norman’s close friends, I asked him if he would ask Norman
what he thought of me as a player. A week later I was told that Norman had told this friend that he liked me as a person and said that I was a good
snooker player but, “Don’t think about playing it for a living”.
Talking to Norman one day on the bus to yet another final, I asked him if he was proud of all the people coming to watch him time after time.
“Some of them come to see me lose”, he answered.
That really saddened me, but you only have to look at Legends of any sport; Steve Davis, Roger Federer, Phil Taylor etc. They are/were so far ahead
in their respective sports that they were winning everything and people wanted to see them lose for once.
I am honoured to have been a friend of Norman. He was a genius on the billiard table and a gentleman off it. He made me laugh and fascinated me
with his God-given skill.
A true legend. There will never be another Norman Dagley.