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Snookered

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SnookeredIn the sport of snooker, getting “snookered” means that one has been put in a position where s/he does not have the ability to use the cue ball to make a direct, linear shot on the object ball.  It is a perfectly valid and highly technical form of defense.

In modern parlance and away from the table, “snookered” is a slang verb that means to “deceive, cheat, or dupe,” according to Cambridge Dictionary. That definition has provoked considerable criticism across the Ocean from linguists who counter by referencing the Oxford English Dictionary: to snooker is to place in an impossible position; to balk, stymie. Ergo, to be snookered would imply that one is in a difficult situation, but nothing duplicitous has occurred.

Now, all of this lexical debate could be routinely dismissed and relegated to the online nattering of etymologists on the English Language & Usage Stack Exchange, except “snookered” improbably shows up as the single most common title of billiards movies and television episodes. By my count, “Snookered” is the title of four billiards televisions episodes and three billiards short films, not to mention a billiards-themed play, two billiards-themed books, and the b-side of Chas & Dave’s famous anthem, “Snooker Loopy.”  So, without further delay, let’s get “Snookered.” 

Terry and June – “Snookered”

From 1979 to 1987, the BBC ran the sitcom Terry and June, which starred Terry Scott and June Whitfield as a middle-aged, middle-class suburban couple. In the January 1982 “Snookered” episode, Terry has purchased a six-foot snooker table, with grand fantasies of becoming a champion. But, the acid-tongued June is less certain, telling Terry, “You’re about as good at snooker as the captain of the Titanic was at spotting icebergs.” 

Admitting to his shortcomings, Terry begrudgingly sells his table for 30 pounds by advertising it in the newspaper. However, immediately after selling the table, he starts getting inundated with inquiries from prospective buyers, who are willing to pay more than 100 pounds.  Realizing the table is worth far more than he thought, he buys it back for 70 pounds. Then, he begins a rather comical – and ultimately expensive — journey to determine why there is such demand for the table, even when antique dealers tell him it is “rubbish.” I won’t spoil the ending but don’t get your hopes up that Joe Davis has any relation to the legendary Steve of the same surname. The full episode is available to watch here.

Mortimer’s Patch – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Unfortunately, most of the other “Snookered” television episodes I was not able to find online, including the June 1984 episode from the New Zealand police drama Mortimer’s Patch.  If you can help me locate any of these episodes, please contact me directly.  All I could learn was that the series, which lasted only three seasons, featured detective and police work in the fictional town of Cobham. In the “Snookered” episode, a pool hustler comes to town in order to blackmail.

Roy – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Roy O’Brien, the 11-year old cartoon-animated son of a live-action family in Dublin, is at the center of this eponymous Irish children’s television series. In the February 2014 “Snookered” episode, Roy’s dad, Bill, discovers that his son is a snooker prodigy.  When his dad bumps into his old snooker-playing rival, Clive “The Tornado” Butler, Bill forces Roy to compete in a grudge match.  For Roy, it’s a big fuss about “a silly game of snooker,” but for Bill, it’s an opportunity for “claiming glory on the field of battle” and for his son to “be a world champion by the time he’s 16…have [his] own line of merchandising, maybe a video…and then in 25 or 30 years, retire as the greatest player to ever pick up a snooker cue.”

Though I could not watch the “Snookered” episode online, I got some mild enjoyment from this transcript of the episode.

Harry’s Mad – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Still another children’s television series that seized on the name “Snookered” is Harry’s Mad, a British show that ran from 1993 to 1996.  Based on the book by Dick King-Smith, the series focused on 10-year-old Harry Holdsworth, who inherits a super intelligent talking macaw named Madison (aka Mad).  Harry and his family have lots of adventures, but the bird also attracts the attention of the villainous Terry Crumm.  There’s a dearth of information about the “Snookered” episode, except that it featured snooker world champion Steve Davis.

Snookered (short film, 2005)

This nine-minute film written and directed by Hammish Scadding saw a larger audience than it deserved because it was a part of Virgin Media Shorts, the UK’s biggest short film competition at that time. (The competition ended in 2014.)

The movie focuses on two ‘friends,’ one of whom has always been more popular and successful than the other. The narrator, always undermined by his friend, views the pool table as “the most important place. Two sides fighting for supremacy on that bright green battlefield.” Presumably, he’s never won a game against the friend until – spoiler alert – tonight. And, with that victory, “every winner loses, while every loser joins a winner’s table.” Really? Someone actually wrote that?  The film is available to watch here.

Snookered (short film, 2014)

Almost three years ago, I wrote a blog post about Azeem Mustafa’s 2015 billiards-martial arts short film The Break. At the time, I was unaware of that film’s predecessor, the five-minute film Snookered, which, naturally, also mixes billiards and martial arts over a funky soundtrack.

The ‘martial arts criminal comedy’ focuses on two gangsters who opt to play a game of snooker to determine who shall walk away with a valuable briefcase. The five-hour game fails to determine a winner, so the two men follow up with a one-hour martial arts battle (that has some pretty decent fight sequences for a self-made short film). The film is available to watch here.

Snookered (short film, 2018)

Rounding out the septet of Snookered-named films is this seven-minute film from Scotland that won the 48 Hour Film Project.  Like the name suggests, the movie was written, shot, and edited in just 48 hours for entry into this cinematic competition. The plot centers on a mysterious, dangerous box that must be couriered to a local snooker hall.  When it is delivered to and opened by the recipient, we learn it contains toxic cue chalk that kills the user when he blows on the cue. Created by Team Dropshack, Snookered won Best Film, Best Cinematography and Best Editing.  

So, to all the film auteurs still contemplating the name of their next billiard masterpiece, please heed my advice and leave alone the title “Snookered.” I promise I’m not trying to deceive or cheat you, or put you in a difficult situation.  I just don’t want anyone to be snookered again.

Break (in production)

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Michael Elkin BreakLess than two weeks ago, billiards movie enthusiasts, such as myself, started geeking out, agog over the announcement that Rutger Hauer was going to star in the upcoming snooker film Break. Mr. Hauer had been cast to play an old-time gangster, but for fans of his oeuvre, and especially those who still memorialize him as Roy Batty from Blade Runner, the specifics of the role in Break were irrelevant. It was simply the fact that he would be returning to the silver screen – and in a billiards movie, no less.  Because let’s face it, the recent entrants into the billiards movie genre (e.g., 9-Ball, Massé, HeartBreak) have not exactly been overflowing with megawatt stars.

According to a recent article in Variety, Break is about Spencer Pryde (played by Sam Gittins), a talented kid snooker player from a rough neighborhood who is dragged into crime. A chance encounter with a Chinese billiards champion (presumably played by China’s currently number two ranked snooker player Liang Wenbo) gives Spencer a chance to turn his life around and escape his tough surroundings. Like many other billiards films (e.g., The Color of Money, Kiss Shot, The Baron and the Kid), the movie ends with a climactic billiards match, in this case, the World Snooker Championship filmed at Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre, the true home to professional snooker.

While Mr. Hauer’s casting is news, there has been buzz about Break for years.  In January, 2016, I had the opportunity to interview director and writer Michael Elkin about his forthcoming movie, which at that time, was quite early in its conception.  (Production is now underway with filming scheduled to occur in Beijing and London.)

Mr. Elkin shared with me his reasons for making Break:

I grew up on a council estate in West Norwood, South London and…we had several snooker halls in neighboring areas, such as Brixton, Crystal Palace and Tulse Hill. As a kid, I would often skip school and spend the day in one of them with a pal.

I am now 43 years old and sadly [those] snooker halls are all gone. Many were closed after complaints from local residents about late night drinking, drug dealing, fights and in Norwood’s case, a fatal shooting.

I first started writing Break in January of 2010 after reminiscing with a pal [about] one of the young guys there being a very good player, but he wasn’t interested in pursuing it. We wondered whatever happened to him and the seed was planted.

I started to think, what if this kid had wanted to make it, but was in to something he couldn’t get out of, or maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he preferred the idea of being a crook, a bad guy. The idea, literally started with an image I had of a young guy in a smoky, dimly lit snooker/pool hall, brandishing a broken cue as a weapon.

I sat down and drew a picture of a kid in a hooded top, standing behind a table ready to strike anybody that came near him with the butt-end of a snooker cue. I stared at the picture a while, cogs whirring and decided on the idea of this troubled kid with a talent, but very little else in the way of guidance.

What this kid needed was a Break…I wrote the first draft in about two months, but wasn’t happy with it, so put it in a drawer and forgot about it for years. Recently I took it out of the drawer, gave it a polish and thought, okay this is pretty good now. Let’s do it.

Like many filmmakers who choose to make billiards central to their stories, Mr. Elkin was aware that too little snooker and the film loses its authenticity and narrative thread; too much snooker and moviegoers will grow restless with the slow pace.

Michael Elkin BreakRecent news developments, coupled with Mr. Elkin’s comments to me, indicate he intends to balance this deftly.

The movie’s realism is informed not only by the collaboration with the World Snooker Association, and the filming at Sheffield’s but also the casting of global snooker pros such as China’s Mr. Wenbo, Ireland’s Ken Doherty, and Britain’s Jack Lisowski. Mr. Elkin intends to focus especially on “a variation of pots such as doubles, long pots and plants rather than the cue ball being stuck behind the brown whilst a player deliberates how to get out of it. Clever shots mostly.”

But, at the same time, Mr. Elkin explains, “Although I love to watch [snooker], I am aware that film fans are not settling in to watch a snooker game. Break is an urban drama where snooker just happens to be our protagonists’ way out of a bad situation.  That said, there is of course plenty of snooker action to satisfy fans, but also enough drama to make it a film. Think ‘Rocky with a snooker cue’.”

That Mitchell and Webb Look – “Snooker Commentators”

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“Well that was a lucky chance for young Mark Deacon, but as usual, he approaches the table with – how does one put it – a face like a slapped ass.” — Peter DeCoursey

Mitchell and WebbWhen it comes to snooker commentary, Ted Wilkes and Peter DeCoursey are in a class by themselves. Exactly what class is another question.  The two retired players, perpetually drinking, chain-smoking, and sweating in their airless cramped radio booth, spend the bulk of their on-air time talking insensitively about the players and sharing inappropriate stories, such as Mark Deacon’s attempts at suicide, or – how shall I put it – “bids for oblivion.”

Of course, that’s the comic genius of David Mitchell and Robert Webb, who respectively play Ted and Peter on each “Snooker Commentators” segment of their British sketch comedy That Mitchell and Webb Look.

Mitchell and WebbThe comedians’ dipsomaniacal duo first appeared on the radio show That Mitchell and Webb Sound. Then, in 2006, the ex-snooker-shooting sots, along with numerous other sketch characters, moved to television, where That Mitchell and Webb Look eventually won a BAFTA aware for “Best Comedy Programme or Series.”

Though That Mitchell and Webb Look ran for four seasons between 2006 and 2010, I could only locate a handful of “Snooker Commentator” sketches, all from the first season.  Always kicking off with Ted’s catch phrase, “Oh, that’s a bad miss,” and one of the duo bringing in the evening’s potables, the first episode starts with the pair mocking past-his-prime snooker player Harry Vaughn and the final episode ends with Ted and Peter revealing the secret snooker lyrics behind Chris de Burgh’s career-launching anthem, “The Lady in Red.” (Never seen you looking so shiny as you did tonight | Never seen your baize so tight |You are amazing.)

In the real world of snooker, with its genteel traditions, it would be unimaginable to have commentators as boorish as Ted and Peter. However, snooker commentary has not been irreproachable. In 2016, the snooker commentator John Virgo said during the semi-finals of the World Snooker Championship, “I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. I’ll be lucky to watch some f****** Match of the Day.” Apparently, he thought his microphone was off.

Similarly, the former cueman Willie Thorne was commentating in 2017 during the first day of the Betfred World Championship when he said to his co-host Peter Edbon (in reference to the struggling match player Anthony McGill), “When you ‘go’ here though Pete, it is a f****** nightmare this place.”

But, these vulgar verbal bloopers are rather mild compared to gaffes uttered by sports announcers across the Channel here in the U.S.

For example, Jimmy ‘The Greek’ Snyder said to a reporter in 1988, “The black is a better athlete to begin with because he’s been bred to be that way…This goes back all the way to the Civil War when the slave owner would breed his big black to his big woman so that he could have a big black kid.” CBS fired him immediately.

Or, how about ESPN commentator Mark Madden, who said in 2008, “I’m very disappointed to hear Senator Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts is near death because of a brain tumor…I always hoped Senator Kennedy would live long enough to be assassinated”?  And then there is Fox Sports baseball commentator Steve ‘Psycho’ Lyons, who blasted outfielder Shawn Green for skipping a game because of the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur. Lyons said, “He’s not even a practicing Jew. He didn’t marry a Jewish girl…And from what I understand, he never had a bar mitzvah, which is unfortunate because he doesn’t get the money.”

And these sleazebags are not even the worse of the lot. Remember Marv Albert, who sodomized a woman and then forced her to perform oral sex, all while supposedly wearing white panties and a garter belt? Sean Salisbury was an NFL analyst for ESPN when it became public that he sent pictures of his private parts to ESPN female employees. Seven-time Pro Bowl player Warren Sapp joined the NFL Network as a commentator only to have his contract quickly terminated after he was arrested on suspicion of soliciting and assaulting a prostitute.

Finally, there is the all-time king of scuzz, local New Orleans sportscaster Vince Marinello, who murdered his ex-wife in 2006.  He shot her twice in the head. His cover-up was so poor that at his house the police found a “to-do” list related to the murder, along with records of him purchasing the type of bullets used for the murder.

So, Ted and Peter may not be most polished pair, but compared to some of their real-world counterparts, I’m quite willing to overlook the occasional stein, or six, of ale.

You, Me & Them – “The Legend of Old McCreadie”

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On May 3, 2013, Judd Trump was shooting against Ronnie O’Sullivan in the semifinals of that year’s World Snooker Championship. Down 4-32 in the frame, Mr. Trump lined up for his shot when a loud farting sound thundered through the Crucible Theatre. Described as a “bit of noise in the crowd,” the sound, which some later ascertained was created by a fart machine, had the audience in guffaws until the referee was able to quiet down the crowd. Mr. Trump may have regained his concentration, but he ultimately lost the match 17-11.

Old McCreadieAlmost six months later, another snooker match was repeatedly disturbed, this time by a mixture of ill-timed sneezes, cell phone rings, and the occasional crinkling of a too-new Danny Zuko leather jacket.  Fortunately, this was not another WSC match, but rather the plotline of an amusing television episode of You, Me & Them entitled “The Legend of Old McCreadie.” The full episode is available to watch here.

Even for Brits, You, Me & Them may be hard to remember. Airing on UKTV in 2014, the original comedy series lasted only 12 episodes before it was yanked. The show centers on a married couple, Lauren Grey (Eve Myles) and Ed Walker (Anthony Head), who are madly in love despite their 26-year age difference.  Their families think a quarter-century age gap is irreconcilable, but in fact, the couple do just fine while everyone around them is engulfed in chaos and craziness.

Like many sitcom episodes, “The Legend of Old McCreadie” has several interlocking stories, including one thread in which Ed and his father-in-law Clive (Jeff Rawle) decide to do some family bonding by attending a local snooker match where they can get “drama and excitement, yet peace and quiet.”

Their troubles start when Clive begins violently sneezing as a result of an allergic reaction to the mohair jumper of the woman seated in front of him.  Then, Ed’s leather jacket, which has never been broken in, makes distracting squeaking noises each time he moves.  Thus, to avoid moving, he enlists Clive’s help to scratch his itches, raising eyebrows from those around them.  Adding to the awkwardness, Clive’s wife keeps calling his cellphone to get the alarm codes as she fears someone may be breaking into the house.  The situation only gets worse as Clive attempts to hand signal the alarm code over live television, since he knows his wife can see him on the telly.  Whatever patience the players, referee, and audience members had exhibited up to this point completely disappears and cacophony ensues.

The episode scores points for lampooning the genteel core of snooker. After all, this is a sport in which “the players wear bowties and waistcoats, the referees are dressed formally with white Mickey Mouse gloves, and the crowd is mainly hushed and silent.”[1]

In describing the “intensity of silence” as one of the “characteristics of true snooker,” one writer said:

Some players might actually prefer more of a constant backdrop of noise, but that’s not in the foundations of the sport. Yes, the sport came from an Imperial room of commission officers, but walk into any snooker club now and pretty much the only noise heard is coming from the tables, cues, balls and pockets.  And for the fan, the knowledge of having to stay as quiet as possible adds to their own intensity in that moment.[2]

Amidst this revered soundlessness, is it any wonder that Ed and Clive’s peccadillos are received with such disdain?

In fact, similar offenses have led to snooker audience members getting stern warnings and even outright ejections from the matches.  Such was the case when an audience member got a bit too boisterous at the Ronnie O’Sullivan vs. Mark Selby Masters Final in January 2014.  And, in Mr. O’Sullivan’s match against Gary Wilson in April 2017, a drunk heckler had to be removed due to his disruptive behavior.

Of course, had Ed and Clive come to watch Kyren Wilson compete against Mark Allen in the semi-finals of the 2018 World Snooker Championship, perhaps they would have been a bit more lucky.  As snooker fans may recall, Mr. Wilson was down 32-45 with a difficult lead on the 6-ball, when he was interrupted not once, not twice, but three times by a spectator’s mobile phone. And though the referee was quick to oust the culprit, it was Mr. Wilson who said, “Don’t kick him out, just turn the phone on silence,” which won applause from the audience.

Mr. Wilson went on to beat Mr. Allen 13-6.  You draw your own conclusion.

[1]       “The Complete Guide to Understanding Snooker,” April 13, 2017.

[2]       “It’s There! Can You Keep the Noise Down Please?!,” April 21, 2015.

Lovejoy – “The Colour of Mary”

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When historians chronicle the origins of billiards, they frequently cite Mary, Queen of Scots, as one of the sport’s earliest and most famous enthusiasts.

Colour of Mary

Painting of Mary, Queen of Scots, by Nicholas Hilliard. The painting resides at the National Portrait Gallery in London.

Mary ruled over Scotland for almost 25 years in the mid-16th century. When she claimed she was the legitimate heir to the throne of England, the current queen, Elizabeth I, had her confined to various castles.  One of the last prisons for Mary was Tutbury Castle, where she was moved to in 1585.  Under the guardianship of the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, she was treated kindly and was granted her request to have a billiards table on the premises.

However, her time at Tutbury was short-lived.  She was subsequently moved to Fotheringay Castle, without her billiards table.  There, she was found guilty of plotting to assassinate Elizabeth and was beheaded in 1587. According to reports from her lady-in-waiting, her headless body was wrapped in the cloth from the billiards table.

Now, fast-forward about 400 years.  Charlie Gimbert, a sleazy antiques dealer, has inherited the management of fallen snooker champion Murray McNally, who insists his game depends on the procurement of Mary, Queen of Scots’ billiards table.  To find the table, Gimbert contracts Lovejoy, a rougish dealer, and sics him on the impossible fool’s errand with a promise of a big payoff if he successfully secures the trophy.

Colour of MaryWell, that’s at least the premise of “The Colour of Mary” episode of the British comedy-drama series Lovejoy.  First aired in 1986, Lovejoy follows the antique-hunting adventures of the eponymous Lovejoy (Ian McShane).  The series had a five-year gap between its first and second seasons, which is why this particular episode aired in January, 1993, during the fourth season.

“The Colour of Mary,” with an obvious cultural nod to The Color of Money, begins with Lovejoy’s well-intended pursuit of the mythical table. Unfortunately, after connecting with antique historians and visiting the famed Fotheringay Castle, it becomes clear to Lovejoy that the table no longer exists, most likely incinerated hundreds of years ago along with all of Mary’s possessions.

Expecting that neither Gimbert (Malcom Tierney) nor McNally (Alex Norton) know the table’s true history, Lovejoy proceeds to create a forgery, using some early baize and nailing it to an Elizabethan table.  The table is put up for auction by an estate, and Gimbert buys it for £15,000 with the intent of showing it to McNally.  But, surprise, surprise, McNally was acting in his own ruse, and upon seeing the table, proceeds to demolish it, citing his militant preference for snooker over billiards.

This curious coda seems intent on fanning the flames of a ‘snooker versus billiards’ rivalry, but I strongly question whether such a dogfight exists.  More to the point, any player that would take an axe to an antique billiards table is truly not deserving of his cue stick.

“The Colour of Mary” also include an exhibition snooker match with real world snooker champion Dennis Taylor, but his presence does little to save this rather uneven episode.

The full episode is available for purchase on YouTube.

Auction Kings – “Rolling Stones Snooker Table”

There is clearly a market for celebrity pool tables.

In 1998, a snooker table custom made for the Rolling Stones’ Voodoo Lounge tour sold at auction for $12,075. In 2007, an Adler Victorian-style carved-walnut pool table, which had been customized for musician Ozzy Osbourne, sold at auction for $11,250.  A year later, the Brunswick table that actor Glen Ford had spent countless hours using  to play celebrities such as John Wayne and Frank Sinatra, went for nearly $8000 in a Heritage auction.

Rolling Stones snooker table

from the Voodoo Lounge tour

So, it was not outrageous for Gallery 63 owner Paul Brown to think that he could make a pretty penny auctioning a snooker table that had been customized for, and used by, the Rolling Stones as part of their 1989 Steel Wheels Tour.  Such is the setup for “Rolling Stones Snooker Table/Aliens,” the fourth episode of the first season of Auction Kings, a reality television series produced by Authentic Entertainment for the Discovery Channel.

Airing in November 2010, the Auction Kings episode, available to watch here, begins with Donald Dukes, the founder and creative talent behind handcrafted table maker Atlantic Billiards, walking into Mr. Brown’s auction house in Sandy Springs, Georgia, looking to sell a custom 12-foot snooker table that he built for the Rolling Stone to bring on tour.

This was not the first time Mr. Dukes had been called upon by the Rolling Stones to build a snooker table.  He built a total of five tables for the band and for its lead guitarist Keith Richards, including the aforementioned Voodoo Lounge tour table, which had been crafted from 1,400 pounds of slate playing surface from Italy, worsted wool cloth from Belgium, gum-rubber rail cushions from England, and maple cue sticks from Canada, according to the Christie’s auction site.[1] Mr. Dukes even joined the band on tours in order to maintain the tables.

(It is now well-documented that the Rolling Stones include in their concert tour rider that the promoter installs a snooker table backstage.  Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood wrote in his 2007 autobiography Ronnie: “The gig organizer is also obliged to set up a snooker table for Keith [Richards] and me – it’s a non-negotiable part of the contract. We always have a game before a concert.”[2])

Rolling Stones snooker table

from the Steel Wheels tour

For the Steel Wheels tour table, which was decorated with names of classic Rolling Stones’ hits, had legs mounted with replicas of John Pasche’s famous 1970 “Tongue and Lips” artwork, and included “ironclad provenance – [Mr. Dukes] and Keith Richards shooting a game on it,” the desired price was at least $4,000. “If all goes well, we will use the cash for 2nd honeymoon for our 40th anniversary,” says Mr. Dukes.

At the time right before the episode’s airing, enthusiasts on the AZBilliards Forum opined that the table should command a significant price.  Estimated ranged from “at least 4K” or “around 8K” to 15K and even 25K.[3]

In the actual episode, an appraiser values the table itself at $3,500 but quickly adds that its celebrity provenance is the true wild card which could favorably impact the value.  Owner Mr. Brown robotically follows up, “I’m hoping the fact it was indeed the Rolling Stones’ snooker table will drive the value up in a Jumping Jack Flash.”

“Rolling Stones Snooker Table/Aliens” ends with the auction, which also includes the sale of some African art and life-size aliens that are also highlighted throughout the episode.  With Mr. Dukes in the audience, the auctioneer begins the bidding at $1250.  An anonymous call-in buyer drives up the price, ultimately buying the table for $4000. Though Mr. Dukes only received his minimum asking price, he seems content; Mr. Brown, too, is relieved, though the lackluster bid prices for some of the other auction items leads him to surmise that there is bad luck in the air.

The theme of bad luck was a motif the show’s producers ran throughout the episode, starting with the scratching of winless lottery tickets and ending with Mr. Brown unwittingly walking beneath a ladder.  Such superstitious events were undoubtedly inserted to build the show’s narrative.

But, ironically, the bad luck gimmicks may have been a real omen.  The series Auction Kings ended in 2013, and Mr. Brown’s auction house Gallery 63 closed in March, 2015.  And, according to an AZBilliards Forum post from NoBull9, who spoke with one of the table’s assemblers, the $4000 deal fell through and the table was locked up in a warehouse, still for sale.[4]

[1]       http://www.christies.com.cn/lotfinder/LotDetailsPrintable.aspx?intObjectID=606212

[2]      [Link no longer available]

[3]      http://forums.azbilliards.com/showthread.php?t=207833

[4]       http://forums.azbilliards.com/showthread.php?t=207833

The Rack Pack

Everyone loves a great sports rivalry between individuals.  A great sports rivalry can lead to memorable matches, heated emotion, superior trash talking, occasional violence, and of course, incredible displays of athletic prowess. Even better, pretty much every sport can point to some defining dogfight which has electrified spectators.

The Rack PackConsider:  Cristiano Ronaldo-Lionel Messi (soccer); Arnold Palmer-Jack Nicklaus (golf); Chris Evert-Martina Navratilova (tennis); Bobby Fischer-Boris Spassky (chess); Larry Bird-Magic Johnson (basketball); Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier (boxing); Brian Lara-Sachin Tendulkar (cricket); Jahangir Khan-Jansher Khan (squash); etc.  In fact, the ongoing grapple between Formula One auto racer Niki Lauda and James Hunt was so irrefutable that director Ron Howard made the feud the basis of his 2013 movie Rush.[1]

To that list, we can add the multi-year face-off between world snooker champions Alex “Hurricane” Higgins and “Interesting” Steve Davis, a rivalry that ran through the 1980s and, as a result, turned a back room parlor game into a sport watched on television by more than 18 million people. Fortunately, the bitter contest between these two giants is exceptionally captured in Brian Welsh’s movie, The Rack Pack, which premiered exclusively on BBC’s iPlayer in January, 2016.

The film begins in 1972, with Higgins (Luke Treadaway) defeating John Spencer to win the World Snooker Championship. Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” is used to evoke this epic changing of the guard, with the working-class, semi-unhinged Higgins now emerging as the “People’s Champion.”

The Rack PackAs Higgins injects his maverick, I-don’t-give-a-fuck personality into the sport, fast-forward to 1976, when promoter Barry Hearn (Kevin Bishop) test-drives Steve Davis (Will Merrick), a young, up-and-comer.  Seeing the bowl-cut teetotaler for the first time, Hearn brilliantly quips about Davis, “God, he’s pale…I bet he gets sunburnt when he opens the fridge.”  (Of course, that’s genteel compared to Higgins’ remark when he first eyes his red-headed future nemesis: “What happened?  Did a carrot fuck a snail up the arse?”)

Hearn believes there is big money to be made from snooker. In the robotic Davis, he senses gold, assuming he can mold Davis into a formidable and intimidating player.  Hearn also knows Higgins’ swagger and bravado are signs of vulnerability, saying, “[Higgins] plays to the gunnery like there’s an award for the best shot.  He can’t take a round of applause to bed. He’s like a little boy lost, desperate for approval. Emotion, Davis, is the enemy of success…We need to create an aura of invincibility around you.”

Thus begins an Eliza Doolittle-like transformation of Davis, from a video-game-playing, milk-drinking, socially awkward looby to a stone-cold, laser-focused, snooker assassin, with every mannerism, from crossing his legs to holding his drink, rehearsed for maximum effect. In Hearn’s words, this is the game of “mental snooker.”

The metamorphosis is incredible.  After losing terribly to Higgins in the quarterfinals of the 1980 World Snooker Championships, Davis returns the following year to win the World Championship.  Though Higgins returns the favor in 1982, Davis effectively becomes a snooker juggernaut, rebounding to win the world title five more times in 1983, 1984, 1987, 1988, and 1989.  He boasts, “There is no one around who can concentrate long enough to be a threat to my dominating records for years to come.”

Musically, Davis’ ascent is complemented by some high-powered voltage by an incredible, 1970s-1980s British rock soundtrack, including “Another One Bites the Dust” (Queen), “Money For Nothing” (Dire Straits), “Sunshine of My Love” (Cream), “Voodoo Child” (Jimi Hendrix), “Tiny Dancer” (Elton John), and “Who Are You” (Who). Those aural anthems are used liberally, along with montages of potted balls, newspaper articles, and magazine covers, all creating a whirligig of snooker and promotional activity around the unstoppable Davis and Hearn, his master puppeteer.

The Rack PackIn addition to Higgins and Davis, The Rack Pack features (brief) appearances by an  extended pantheon of actors portraying snooker greats from the decade, including Kirk Stevens, Jimmy White, Dennis Taylor, Cliff Thorburn, Tony Knowles, and even a 16-year-old Matthew Harrison (who Davis embarrassingly defeats 134-0).

While The Rack Pack probably fawns too much on Hearn, the film doesn’t hold back on showing the meltdown of Higgins, whose repeated losses to Davis both corroded and eroded Higgins, turning him into a coke-fueled, whoring, foul-mouthed, absent father and emotionally abusive husband. A number of the scenes evoke Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights, both in their portrayal of the impact drugs can have on a career and in their stark portrayal of a man out-of-touch with the times.   (Interestingly, some reviewers felt the movie was too clement in its portrayal of Higgins, saying the character was “romanticized to brush over some of the more unsavory and extreme aspects of his personality.”[2])

Like many biopics, The Rack Pack struggles with what life chapters to leave on the cutting room floor.  Thus, the last quarter of the movie tends to drag on, as Davis achieves new strata of fame by selling everything from coffee to fragrance; making a quiz show board game; and joining a number of other snooker professionals to sing “Snooker Loopy,” a Chas & Dave song that surprisingly hit the #6 position on the UK Singles Chart.[3]

But, the film emotionally reconnects with its audience in the final scenes, when Higgins, defeated and bankrupt, approaches Hearn, offering to let him become is manager.  Hearn responds, patiently and truthfully,  that  “Snooker needs you, but I don’t need you [Alex]…The millions out there don’t tune in to watch the snooker, they watch for the soap opera….You’re destroying yourself, and millions enjoy watching the process.”  It’s a proper denouement for the Hurricane, whose star would never shine again.  The onetime millionaire died in 2010, penurious, from a mix of malnutrition, pneumonia, and a bronchial condition.

Billiards movies fans often lament that both the lack of good films since The Color of Money (1986) and the absence of snooker films.  Cry a tear no longer.  The Rack Pack is high-quality entertainment, as well as a compelling biopic on two titans whose incredible skills and contrasting personalities fueled one of the most impressive rivalries in sports history.

To the frustration of many, The Rack Pack is available exclusively on BBC’s iPlayer, which is not viewable outside of the United Kingdom.  However, there are many known workarounds, such as the Hola unblocker plugin for Chrome, that can spoof IP addresses and eliminate this restriction.

[1]       There is a wonderful running list, with commentary, of individual sports rivalries on Quora, though sadly there is no mention given to any rivalries existing in billiards.

[2]       [This link on snookerbacker.com no longer works.]

[3]       Goofy as it is, “Snooker Loopy” holds the #3 spot on my Top 10 Billiards Songs and Music Videos.

Perfect Break (in production)

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Perfect BreakUntil very recently, the “snooker movie” was considered by many to be extinct, a sub-genre that disappeared in 1991 after Legend of the Dragon pitted fish-out-of-water Stephen Chow against snooker sensation Jimmy White in a yakuza-backed tournament. But, propelled by the success of the BBC iPlayer 2016 biopic The Rack Pack, which details the tempestuous rivalry between ‘80s snooker stars Steve Davis and Alex “Hurricane” Higgins, the snooker movie has been resurrected and is making headlines once more.

Certainly, the surge in interest bodes well for Perfect Break, a British snooker-themed comedy that is in post-production and seeking a distributor for an anticipated 2016 summer release. Produced by Len Evans and directed by Ian Paterson, Perfect Break is a low-budget, family film about the once great snooker player Bobby Stevens (Joe Rainbow), whose humiliating loss has led to his current career nadir performing trick shots wearing a luchador mask. Through a chance encounter with a young girl, he regains his appreciation for the sport – and his nerves – enabling him to compete in the Jimmy White Invitational Cup. The full trailer is available to watch here.

According to Mr. Evans, a snooker player who admits he is “not very good,” the impetus for the film’s creation was the straight-forward desire to make a billiards movie. (Amen!) Feeling pool had been portrayed well on the silver screen (Mr. Evans’ favorite billiards movie is The Color of Money), Mr. Evans opted instead to focus on snooker – a sport that, per his research, had never been addressed on film. (His research appears to have overlooked Legend of the Dragon as well as Billy the Kid and the Green Baize Vampire.) That decision was also well-suited for the selection of his director, Mr. Patterson, who is a member of the Romford Snooker Club.

Perfect Break

Jimmy White and John Virgo

For Perfect Break to succeed, it was critical to cast some household snooker names in a few key roles. Fortunately for all of us, Mr. Evans thinks big, and working through the Snooker Association, he secured Jimmy White and John Virgo. Mr. White, of course, is not only one of the sport’s greatest as a six-time World Championship finalist and a 29-time tournament winner, but also brings with him a large fan base, as evidenced by his 102,000 Twitter followers. (He is also a veteran of snooker movies, having starred in The Legend of the Dragon.)   Mr. Virgo is known within the snooker community for his ability (he was once ranked 10 in the world) and commentary, as well as his 11-year run as co-host of the famous snooker game show Big Break. According to Mr. Evans, the duo had quite the good time on set, and there are “some excellent outtakes of the pair messing their lines up and having a great time laughing and joking.”

Cineastes can also look forward to a decent amount of billiards: 18 minutes of Perfect Break is devoted to on-screen snooker, including the filming of a full maximum 147 break. According to Mr. Evans, the team insisted that no CGI was used, so instead they recruited Jamie Rous, an excellent Pro player (once ranked 128th in the world) who is relatively unknown, to shoot the scene, with seven cameras filming simultaneously to ensure perfect continuity.

So, if you love snooker and want to take the family to a film that promises “no swearing, guns, or violence,” then be on the lookout for Perfect Break.

Note: Since this movie’s release in 2020, I have posted a review.

Ever Decreasing Circles – “Snooker”

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Congratulations to Stuart Bingham, who this past Tuesday defeated Shaun Murphy to win the Betfred World Snooker Championship, a tournament that reached more than 330 million viewers last year. In winning the £300,000 (about $457,000) prize money, Bingham said, “Just to put my hands on that trophy, seeing all the names on it, that’s just everything. It means so much.”[1]

Ever Decreasing Circles 3In a tribute to Mr. Bingham and the popularity of the Snooker Championship, I watched “Snooker” (November, 1984) from the second season of the British television comedy Ever Decreasing Circles that ran on BBC1. The series revolved around Martin Bryce (Richard Briers), an obsessive, middle-aged man from East Surrey who harbors an ongoing jealousy toward his new, younger, next-door neighbor Paul Ryman (Peter Egan), an adventurous, confident, charming playboy, who is seemingly better at everything than Martin.

“Snooker” begins with Martin imploring his wife Ann (Penelope Wilton) to assume the 32nd spot in the local snooker tournament he is organizing. Winning this tournament means the world to Martin, having starved himself for two days in past years when he was only a runner-up. Echoing Mr. Bingham, Martin yearns to hold the winner’s cup, which he fantasizes about “polishing every day.” When Ann rebuffs him, he begrudgingly asks Paul, who he had intentionally overlooked, fearing Paul will again demonstrate his dominance over Martin. (This obsession with not living in the shadow of another man is a recurring theme in British television. See the far more laughable Steptoe & Son episode “Pot Black,” which tackles this very issue.)

Just as Mr. Bingham, the oldest winner of the Snooker Championship since Ray Reardon won in 1978, defeated the younger Mr. Murphy, so too does the dowdy-looking Martin vanquish the impeccably attired Paul, albeit for a host of comedic reasons I won’t divulge here. Equally farcical is Martin’s ultimate loss to his friend Howard Hughes, who temporarily sheds his meek mien to win the match.

Though there is little snooker shown, what makes this episode incredible, particularly to an American viewer like me, are the snooker references, each punctuated by the laugh track, an implicit affirmation that the 12-million-person audience understands the joke, and thus, the reference.

Case in point: Seventy five seconds into the episode, Martin, having asked Ann to participate in the tournament, quips, “Steve Davis plays with women now.” Putting aside the dated gender humor, the audience laughs because it is familiar with Mr. Davis, the English snooker player who dominated the sport during the 1980s when he won the Snooker World Championship and was ranked world number one for seven consecutive seasons.

Ever Decreasing CirclesGiven Mr. Davis’ stunning achievements, it is little wonder he is a national icon. But, for American audiences there is sadly no counterpart, no billiards player that could be referenced with similar recall and reverence. (Minnesota Fats may be the one exception, but his legend is more due to his role as an entertainer than as a pool player, for he never won a major tournament.)

In fact, Mr. Davis is not the only player instanced. Later in the episode, Martin is dumbstruck when Paul unsheathes a new cue from its carrying case. Paul shares, “I borrowed the cue from a mate of mine, Tony.” “Tony Knowles?,” asks Martin. [Audience laughs.] “No, Tony Meo,” replies Paul. [Audience continues to guffaw.]

Ever Decreasing CirclesFor the aforementioned reasons, this is again a remarkable exchange. Tony Knowles shot to prominence in 1982 when he defeated Steve Davis in the first round of the World Snooker Championship. He was ranked #2 when “Snooker” aired. Tony Meo, whose highest ranking was 10, was largely known for winning four World Doubles titles.

To viewers of Ever Decreasing Circles, these were evidently household names. But, can you imagine a similar conversation about American billiards players? It is lamentable that less than a nano-sliver of US TV viewers might have heard of Johnny “The Scorpion” Archer or Earl “The Pearl” Stickland or even Jeanette “Black Widow” Lee.

Here’s a painful exercise: add up the number of Twitter followers of America’s top 10 current or former players. There’s no definitive list (e.g., Earl Strickland – 4090; Mika Immonen – 4268; Jeanette Lee – 4711), but I doubt, in aggregate, the sum will exceed 25,000. Now, compare those followers to those of some of Britain’s superstars (Shaun Murphy – 58,500; Ali Carter – 43,000; Ronnie O’Sullivan – 301,000). The numbers dwarf their US counterparts, providing a non-scientific, yet truly painful, reminder once again of how billiards has failed to attract an audience in the United States compared to other parts of the world, such as England and Southeast Asia.

The “Snooker” episode of Ever Decreasing Circles is available to watch online here.

[1]       http://www.bbc.com/sport/0/snooker/32590889

Extended Rest (screener)

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As millions of people get ready to start watching tomorrow the Betfred World Snooker Championship, many of the usual names will bandied about in acts of prognostication. Will Mark Selby successfully defend his title? Which Ronnie “The Rocket” O’Sullivan will emerge at the baize? Can “The Centurion” Neil Robertson reclaim the trophy? And on and on.

Extended RestYet, one name likely to get little mention amidst the cacophony is Terry “the Grenade” Kincaid. Never heard of him? Well, if Oliver Crocker has his way, that’s all about to change in the very near future.

Terry Kincaid is the fictional star of Mr. Crocker’s forthcoming snooker film Extended Rest, which I wrote about back in August. Played by the veteran actor Tony Osoba (from the BBC sitcom Porridge, as well as Give Us a Break), Kincaid is a snooker legend, who left the game after the death of his wife, and now lives in the shadow of his former reputation. Younger players no longer know his name. Other local curmudgeons deride him as a “has-been.”

Today, Mr. Crocker released a 20-minute screener of Extended Rest, available to watch here. The screener is intended to be a short film in its own right. While the feature film will include the same story, it will likely be reshot from scratch.

The majority of the short film takes place in the real-life Twickenham Club (in Twickenham, United Kingdom). As played by Mr. Osoba, Kincaid is soft-spoken and well-mannered, but clearly a shell of his former self. The Club has other patrons, who either contribute to Kincaid’s back-story or provide some comic relief.

At the center of the short film is a standoff between Kincaid and Alec Slater (Ian Cullen), a disagreeable, penny-pinching patron, who has not paid his annual dues to the Club and who seizes every opportunity to mock Kincaid as a washed-up snooker player. Ultimately, Kincaid wagers that debts and differences should be resolved in a single game of snooker. The outcome is decidedly resolved with Kincaid making a century break, thereby injecting a wee bit more liquidity to the struggling Club and, far more important, energizing Kincaid for the matches that presumably lie ahead.

Mr. Crocker shared with me that the feature screenplay is currently with a studio, and that he is meeting with them shortly to review the third draft. So, as you’re debating what the future looks like for recently recovered Ali Carter or 2005 champion Shaun “The Magician” Murphy, remember those names Crocker and Kincaid. Hopefully, we’ll be hearing a lot more about them in the near future.