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The boy and I came to the conclusion that it was time to call an end to years of speculating as to which of us was better at snooker. Having had many best of five or even best of seven matches, it was obvious that this short technique of measuring performance was not enough.
So we played first to ten, and then we had the idea of playing first to 18, as though we were in a World Championship. But the conditions weren't ideal (i.e. I lost both) as we had to keep stopping the game at inappropriate moments, most unlike the professional game.
There was clearly only one way to settle this in a sensible way. It was the summer holidays, which when 16 years old seems like the longest period that could possibly exist. It had to be first to 100.
My memory of how the match progressed is hazy, but the one thing I do recall about it is that at one point I was something like 80 frames to 60 down, and pulled it back to close to 90-90. Amazingly, the game ended 100-99 to the Boy, with me kindly handing him the final frame, no doubt going in off the black after some Patrick Ewing and giving away a cheap foul after scuffing the white with the Steve Ryder.
An honourable mention should go to my good friend Mark, with whom I played a first to 35 (best of 69) match of pot black pool in the kitchen of his student house all in one day. It ended 35-34 to Mark, once again proving my inability to win a match of substantial length.
This happened in an important match late in Jimmy's career, probably in the Masters as I'm sure I would have remembered the feeling of hysteria had it been in the World Championship. Young James is playing well but has adopted a slower more considered style on the advice of a sports psychologist who frankly is fighting an uphill battle. More on the psychology of snooker soon.
This sparkling run of form is given a special dusting of magic in the shape of a 143 break, which is the highest in the tournament (the traditional Willie baiting 147 has thus far not occured, miraculously). Jimmy's slower style and the feeling that the crowd are desperate for him to show some of his previous form have created an odd atmosphere that falls somewhere between extreme tension and hysterical celebration. The pinnacle of the frame is an astonishing shot on the blue when it appears that Jimmy has completely shafted himself through poor positional play (sound familiar?). Old Jim has always been the best with the rest (as Virgo always reminds us whenever he picks it up) and shows us why this reputation has been earned by not only spanking in the blue, but getting perfect position on the tricky pink. Here is my memory of it:
Me and the Boy have a special type of snooker slang. I find that this kind of affected language only really happens after several hours of playing the same game in a darkened room. It is a special type of mental illness which slowly creeps up on you. It involves the following:Additional rhyming slang needs to be created for the extension, the swan neck, the extended spider (although the extended Steve Ryder is acceptable) and the chalk.
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