skip to main |
skip to sidebar
There is a new guy who is very good at snooker and is also from China called Liang Wenbo. He is like a Chinese Ronnie O Sullivan and plays some very interesting shots indeed, some of which are quite reckless and make Virgo twitch in his seat as are not the 'optimum' shot to play. He also got up to some amusing 'controversial' behaviour (i.e. not very controversial at all) last time I watched him play where he failed to mention to the ref that he had put the white back in a slightly more advantageous position.This is not what we have come to expect after 3 years of Ding and his expressionless bore-snooker. He is worse than even Hendreary in my opinion when it comes to the bore factor. I have a theory that Ding is actually a robot sent by the Chinese government that has been sent to spy on our pitiful 'World' Championship, and although he is an acceptable standard, was merely an automated drone making way for the real talent to get stuck in. 
Hopefully Liang Wenbo will be back for this year's World Championship so that he can do something similarly controversial, like perhaps chalking his cue in an anti-clockwise direction or drinking Ribena instead of water. Proper bo
A vivid memory of this fine piece of sports punditry has just popped into my head. I think this was probably the same year as Ray and the fire alarm (see below for more details of this shameful scenario).Clive had slipped in the shower the night before and hurt his knee or his elbow or something and was interviewed by the BBC team on the day of the final. Sadly the interview was by phone, although I had this image of Clive dribbling out responses with tubes in his nose and a heart rate monitor next to him.
God it was compelling. I had a tear in my eye. 'If he starts to look like winning, he might just win' murmured Clive through a haze of painkillers. The kind of searing analysis we have come to expect from the great man.
Talking of that funny man Peter Snebdon, I think he might have done one of my favourite snooker shots. It was in a game that he was losing - in fact it could well have been the World Championship final he lost against Steven Hendry. He was so far behind that there wasn't really any way back into it for him (something like 17-10) but had made a decent break in one of the frames. He was on the pink with just the pink and black left. Frame over. Rather than doing the usual tap in he did some sort of top spin thing. It looked like this:
After he did it he said something like 'even Ronnie can't do that'. Great chat.
I'm well into these kind of ludicrous shots. I have attempted to replicate this shot on many occasions in Rileys, but it is beyond me and usually ends up with me depositing the white somewhere near the entrance rather than bananaing it to the max and looking like a total legend like I want it to. Good effort Snebbers!
What a funny man Peter Ebdon is. I really cannot make up my mind about him. I don't really like watching him play snooker. In fact I really don't like it at all. But he is always the underdog, and always the fighter coming back from the death. What a shame he does it in such a terribly dull way sometimes. He is best when he's right up against it, when he looks like he's going to explode with anger. A pretty unusual sight on a snooker table it must be said. He has been in some amazing matches because of his refusal to lie down even when it looks like he can't possibly win.Okay I like him, at least he makes things more interesting. I was actually very pleased when he won the World Championship that time, even though he did grind it out to the max.
Dave Harold. Absolutely no question. Sometimes I have nightmares that I am watching Alan McManus vs Dave Harold in a World Championship final where in every frame McManus makes a sixty break, then Dave The Grinder gets sixty, then they are stuck in an endless round of snookers and each frame lasts an hour. This goes on until the coverage has to end at 5:30 for This Morning to start on BBC One. The BBC congratulates itself for airing the longest continual sporting contest in history outside of the world of chess. People lose faith with snooker completely and never watch a match without Ronnie O Sullivan in it again.
With any luck Jimmy will be playing in the World Championship in April and may even provide us with a glorious run to the second round, provided that the person he plays first is very, very easy to beat.
The last time I can remember the great James White on our screens was a brief outing in 2007, this time presenting from next to the table with his new best mate Ray Stubbs. Sadly for the players Jimmy got a much bigger cheer than either of them (especially John Piggins) and presented with the insight and decorum we've come to expect, sweating out a beauty and stumbling over some of the easiest questions you've ever heard about snooker. One can only begin to imagine what heights he could reach as a TV pundit.
He seems to be the only person that realises that snooker is slowly dying. The sponsorship is drying up. It's not a way of life like it used to be, and snooker clubs are not fashionable. Somehow it has held on to the BBC contract and they broadcast loads of it, but it almost seems to be getting a bit embarrassing for them now. The first thing I would do would be to stop the tournaments taking place in silence. It sounds stupid, but most snooker clubs are fairly noisy places - people talk whilst they're playing the they usually have a bar. It doesn't seem right to reduce the game to silence for most of it. I think this simple thing would encourage a better atmosphere, more show-boating and better games. It would also make the natural players feel more natural, rather than some sort of dressed up exhibit for two weeks. Off season, professional snooker players play in exhibitions which are pretty rowdy. If anyone shouted out at the wrong time you could just do what tennis players do - stop and go again.
Me, The Boy and the Grand Master went to the Crucible a while back. God we were excited. We even had a mini-tournament on the pool table in Wetherspoons Sheffield the night before to get ourselves in the mood. The Grand Master won as usual. He built the original table after all, from which all subsequent snooker followed. Our excitement was somewhat tempered by walking f*cking miles up the steepest hill in the world afterwards. The Grand Master gave great pleasure in informing us that he used to do this walk twice a day when he had his first job in Sheffield etc. etc. Since then cars have been invented, and some people own them and charge you to ride in them on a temporary basis (this practice is called taxi driving). We informed him of these developments and did not make the same mistake the night after.The first game we saw was McManus versus McCulloch. We pronounce 'McManus' in our house as though the last part of his name sounds like the word anus. I don't know why this is funny but it is and has become common parlance. I would rather stick a rusty pole in my eye than watch these two bore-mongers play snooker. Also, it was the first half of a match so there was no finale / conclusion. Total shocker. It ended 8-8 I think.But the next game made up for it. Hendry versus Pinches. Pinches is a ledge of the highest order as is from Norfolk like us. We were wearing our Norwich shirts hoping to get on the telly (failed) and were well up for the Pincherman to beat Bendry / Hendreary / Hendrong (he is called all of these things in our house). It was tense at 10-10 at the start with the first to 13 the winner. The Boy has pinched me about 5 times now as some kind of physical-semantic joke. It is wearing thin, and would have come in more handy during McManus McCulloch. Hendreary and Pincher go neck and neck to 12-12, Pinchit looking pretty confident. Being the Jimmy-defeater, Bendry is like some sort of pantomime villian to us, we cannot be doing with him. We want to see him crushed by Pinches, who is ranked about 114th in the world and probably still plays at the Canary Cue Club. 'Millions of Pinches, Pinches for me!' shout me and The Boy. The Grand Master tries to look excited, but maybe he has been here one too many times before at the hands of the old enemy Hendrong. At 12-12 Pincherman and Hendrong disappear to psyche themselves for the final frame. The roar when the Pincher comes back is huge. The back of his waistcoat is yellow and green, just like our blood - we love him long time! He starts positively, but soon Bendry is in and then Pinchme has no way back. Yet again, even when Pinches is about 20 points behind I still hope he can snooker Bendrong behind the black three times or that one of the studio lights will fall on the table and they will have to restart. Something almost statistically impossible that still nags away at the back of my mind. It is impossible, so it doesn't happen and Bendry wins. Gutting. What a day out though.Those wooden seats in the Crucible are pretty uncomfortable. During McManus (rhymes with anus remember) versus McCulloch I thought my leg would fall off. It would have diverted my attention from the game though which would have been a bonus.We get a taxi home.
He wasn't playing though, he was eating chili con carne. I always wish I'd asked him for a game, but he looked like he was enjoying his food too much.
Has to be the one to 'You Gotta Be' by Des Ree. I think this might be the year that poor old Jimmy (tm) lost on the black in the final. As I love to wallow in disappointment, this sentimental package of highlights made my year.
Probably from Sports Personality of the Year, where they did some sort of Matrix theme. Total shocker.
Come On Jimmy! has developed a special high tech performance measure in snooker commentary. Using the latest OPTA Index techniques, we've measured the exact time that a 147 is allowed to be mentioned. Willie Thorne is the worst candidate for wetting his pants about 147s, and he has been known to mention it sometimes even before the frame has started, spoiling it for everyone. With this simple rule, Willie's unfortunate habit can be ended once and for all.
Our Come On Jimmy OPTA snooker index records every ridiculous word mentioned in sync with the balls being potted. It is clear from the wealth of data that we've gathered that the fifth red and black is the point at which it may be pointed out that a 147 may be in progress.
Here is a prime example during Ronnie O Sullivan's lightning fast 147 from Virgo (Willie was led panting from the room shortly after the break and had to be replaced). Dennis clearly feels that he can only mention it once the tenth (!) black has gone in, also openly admitting that he has never commentated on a 147 before. A very low performer on the OPTA 147 index indeed!
P.S. I like the way the video is called 'Incredible snooker player' too. A largely undeniable statement given the evidence before us.
How I laughed when old Michaela the referee turned up in the World Championship finals! The poor old lads in the commentary box couldn't contain themselves. There were some awesomely derogatory comments like 'well done Michaela, you're doing a really good job' meaning, well done sweetheart not a bad effort for a bird. Jan Verhaas would never put up with that kind of chat! The players don't really seem to notice though. At least none of them has slapped her arse or anything.
Here is a classic example.
Concentrating on the position over the pot - total classic, who could ever do it though, it's one of the snooker ten commandments. Virgo loves to mention this one.
Posts
