My mind rests while watching snooker. I like the slow and tranquil atmosphere around the pool table, the silence of the audience when the players concentrate. There’s no hurry, no rushing in snooker, only the mind which focuses on the balls. Snooker has finesse and harmony. Many people prefer pool to snooker, but not me. I like to look at Paul Newman as Fast Eddie Felson in The Hustler, but only because of Paul’s blue eyes, the game of pool doesn’t interest me as much.
My favourite player was for a long time Paul Hunter, who succeeded in winning the Masters, the British Open, the Regal Welsh Open and other tournaments several times. Paul had somewhat a gracious pose while leaning to the table. The blond ponytail revealed his high cheekbones. He was beautiful and skilled and I learned the rules of snooker with his help, because he made me watch tournaments, sit by the television our after our, into the late night.
Paul died of cancer last year, in October and for a moment I thought I’d lose my interest in snooker. I knew other players too, but in spite of their skills, I didn’t feel any attraction to their way of playing. Or their hair.
During this winter, I only glanced at the tournaments that went on, didn’t feel any urge to watch the finals, just thought that I’d had my share. However, when the world snooker championships began some days ago, I found myself again camped in front of the television. Snooker has put a spell on me.
Paul Hunter 100/break