Dressed in our suits and buffed shoes and with three and a half hours of travelling behind us, Kris and I entered the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield for the very first time. Upon taking my seat, I couldn’t believe how small the arena was; on TV it looked like there was acres of carpet either side of the solitary table. I’ve grown up hearing about the intimacy of the Crucible, the proximity of the spectators to the players. But it wasn’t until being there for myself that I could appreciate any of it. How, I wondered, had they managed to have two tables in here for twelve days?! The players must have been able to feel every cough, every sigh and every rustle of a sweet bag. In an arena so full of snooker history- Cliff Thorburn’s 147, Alex Higgins winning in 82, the marathon final of 85 between Davis and Taylor- no wonder the players got nervous. This place had been witness to moments of sporting drama that will forever live in the memory of those watching. And now I was there, to witness the latest final for myself.
This blog post has been delayed for a few days out of both laziness and a need to let the events of the weekend to sink in. I’m sure anyone reading this will know the result; you either watched it live or you have read about it online, several scrolls down from the headlines of Leicester winning the Premier League. So I’m not going to go through a frame by frame retelling of the match. I’m going to talk about the event, the funny things that happened and what I took from my first visit to the home of snooker.
One of the things that I love about going to an event is all the preparation that you don’t see on the TV. Before we go live on air, Rob Walker introduces the referee, the commentators and the pundits in the studio. You feel included, like you’re part of the snooker family. You realise how good these people are at their jobs and the passion they have for snooker. The players are introduced, they walk on to their chosen music and the match begins. The job that the cameramen do is one that is often overlooked. You take it for granted when watching the TV that the action is being shown using the right angle at the right time. You don’t see the cameramen as they shift around, moving from the player, to the table, to behind the shot, totally in tune with one another. And during the long frames that stretch far into the night, how they keep their concentration is remarkable.
A little boy in the audience was introduced before the action began. A nine year old Leicester City and Mark Selby fan who has a high break of 105! I wonder if we’ll be seeing him in the future. “Stay away from girls and alcohol!” was Rob Walker’s advice.
The first of four sessions began and it took Ding Junhui until frame seven to get his first frame on the board. When he potted frame ball, there were tears rolling from his eyes. With our position just above where he was sitting, we could see how emotional he was as he walked back to his seat. To come out of the afternoon session 6-2 was quite a result. But how different could things have been if he had taken frame 2, when he had Selby requiring snookers?
Kris and I made our way to the Betfred lounge during the interval. Within minutes we were taking part in a sports quiz, teamed up with two chaps from the Sheffield area, one of which looked like Phil Taylor. I asked him if he’d also won tickets. He said he’d got the complimentary tickets for being a regular customer of Betred’s. A compulsive gambler in other words. He seemed to be very knowledgable about sport though. Ken Doherty popped into the lounge and said a few words into the mic, regaling tales from the year he won the trophy. Next it was Dennis Taylor and he went around the whole room to shake everybody’s hand. We had a chat about the session so far and I asked him for a photo. The funny thing was, the next day, we were promised further visits from snooker legends. But it was Dennis Taylor and Ken Doherty again, telling the same stories. This must be what their lives are like, making public appearances and telling the stories of their success. I wonder if they get bored of it or whether they just love the attention. Having achieved the pinnacle in the sport, you know that you will forever be able to step into a room and talk about those days, with most of the room listening intently. What about a talented player who reaches the top of the game but doesn’t manage to win any major trophies? Well, Tony Drago entered the lounge not long afterwards and was immediately asked for his ticket. “I don’t need a ticket, I’m a player,” he said. Irritated that he hadn’t been recognised, he bounded over to another member of staff who also didn’t recognise him and told him he didn’t care if he was a player, he needed a ticket. “Don’t say you don’t care, that hurts,” responded Drago. And it was clear that it did hurt him. Understandably so, too.
It was a late finish to the day with frame seventeen finishing at half past midnight, with the score at 10-7 to Selby. But it could so easily have been 9-8. Ding did incredibly well in an evening session of gruelling matchplay. One frame lasted 66 minutes, but was compelling throughout. It was amazing to look around the crowd and see how engrossed everyone was and how they appreciated the incredible safety exchanges between the two players. However, it was ridiculous how many phones went off, despite repeated instructions to turn them off before play started. At one point, a man’s satnav app went off not once but twice, leading him to be directed out of the arena. It’s not just the phones but the incessant coughing. Surely not all those coughs are genuine. Perhaps it’s just some people can’t bear to be quiet for all that time and use coughing as a means to express themselves.
Arriving at the Crucible for the final day of the championship, we saw Steve Davis and John Parrot in the foyer, dressed impeccably, recording a piece for the TV. We made it in at just the right time as shortly afterwards, the heavens opened. We watched from the Betfred lounge as people rushed towards the venue, struggling with umbrellas in the wind. The afternoon session’s frames were split equally but at one point Ding got within one frame of Selby at 10-11. Selby took three of the last four frames to go into the evening session with a 14-11 lead.
There were noticeably more smartly-dressed spectators for the final session of the championship but some people, like the man to the left of Kris, failed to make the effort and came dressed in tracksuit bottoms. Even the large man with glasses, who spent all tournament in the front row to the left of the table, dressed up with a shirt and tie. The Betfred co-owner, Fred Done, joined us in the lounge and offered the room some special offers on bets. He would later present the trophy to the winner, alongside Steve Davis.
The evening session was upon us and the early evening sun shone over the Crucible. The players entered the arena down some steep steps to Adamski’s “Killer”. I felt goosebumps. This was it. Tonight we were going to see who was going to be World Champion. There was a lot of support for Ding and many people were hoping for a close-run match (perhaps not as late as the previous night though!) Selby took the opening two frames and it was looking ominous for Ding. But he reeled off the next three and it was game on. Another phone went off in the audience and the referee, Paul Collier, received cheers and applause when he said, “don’t be the idiot that spoils this!” Selby went on to win the two frames he needed, with a gritty break in the last frame. When match ball went in, he pointed his finger to his wife in a display of relief and determination. He had joined an elite list of multi world champions. There was little more emotion shown by Selby though; he went and took a long sip of water, looked on straight-faced as he spoke to Hazel Irvine, and looked more tired than jubilant. He even looked irritable when holding the trophy to the photographers. Ding, meanwhile, was smiling and that was great to see. He had played such a huge part in this year’s championship and did incredibly well in the final after his nervous start. Congratulations to Mark Selby, a true champion.
So this year’s championship was over and it was only just gone 10pm. We left the Crucible and set off on the long journey home. I felt a little numb. I wanted to be backstage. I wanted to join the after-party. After seventeen days of following this wonderful event, I didn’t want it to be over. And I’m sure there are many other people that feel the same. But what a privilege to be able to go to the final. A very special experience that I will never forget.
Seventeen Days on the Baize 