‘Welcome to the revolution. Welcome to – Power Snooker,’ said Ronnie O’Sullivan, at the top of ITV4’s debut broadcast of, you guessed it, Power Snooker. ‘But what is – Power Snooker?’ I was already confident that my knee-jerk answer – brief and somewhat crude – was pretty much on the money.
Ronnie has always been a slightly divisive and exasperating figure in our house. We particularly enjoy those moments, usually in the early stages of a tournament, where he annihilates a Top 16 player by a virtual whitewash, scoring half a dozen century breaks along the way, and then slumps down on the interview sofa and sincerely complains about how badly he’s playing at the moment. Such are the workings of true genius. And as such, he’s become a massively popular figure – I saw him play a few years ago and the place was packed out. So it’s fairly obvious why he’s been co-opted as posterboy for Power Snooker – ‘snooker not entirely as you have known it before,’ according to a slogan which probably needs a bit more work.
The exact rules of Power Snooker need not concern us overmuch, but basically they appear designed to filter all the tactics and safety play out of the game (along with the skill and finesse they require), and just slap the focus entirely on quick play and big scores (due to rules changes, O’Sullivan scored 164 points in his second frame alone). The exciting new Power Snooker jargon has a bit of a theme to it – the Power Ball! The Power Play! The Power Zone! It sounds like Gladiators.
And – the TV viewer was reassured – for the first time snooker would not be played in an atmosphere of ‘hushed reverence’. Barry Hearne, whose hand I detect in this business, basically encouraged the live crowd to go and get trolleyed and start shouting out. ‘You won’t be bored by this,’ promised the match commentator, who appeared to be accompanied by a grumpy Clive Everton, no doubt dragged there at gunpoint if it really was him.
(Edit: It really was Clive Everton and he actually turned out to be quite mellow about the whole business. Hey ho.)
Well, you know, I’ve never really been bored by traditional snooker (although I came close during the O’Brien-Hunter Masters final in 2001). I like the rather leisurely pace of the game, and its thoughtfulness. It means you can do a kakuro or whatever and not worry too much about missing something important while your eye’s off the screen. It also gives John Virgo more time to mangle his adverbs, which is a major part of the fun of watching for my family. And what’s the big issue with hush and reverence? I suspect it’s a bit easier to play top class snooker without a gang of drunks howling at you. And if you don’t think this magnificent game is deserving of a bit of reverence, then what the hell are you doing playing, staging, or watching it?
Anyway, Ronnie may well reap the rewards of his enthusiastic championing of the new format. The fact that the greatest genius in the history of the game and three-time World Champion ended up playing his opening match against the Belgian Under-15s champion is a little startling, but that must be why they talk about ‘the luck of the draw’.
I was a little amused, earlier this year, by the rather contemptuous tone the Sri Lankan press took when talking about Twenty20 cricket, regarding it as a lowbrow bastardisation of a noble sport. But then cricket’s something I have never had much affection for. Now I sort of know how they felt. I’m all for snooker building up its profile and audience, but surely not through gimmicks like this. (Walks off muttering and grumbling.)
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