Features and Interviews

It’s There! Who do you think you are, Mr. Taylor?

Returning after the success of last year is our inconspicuous snooker aficionado, Free Ball.

Dennis Taylor

Today, it took three frames for Dennis to realise an 89 break doesn’t represent a century – photo courtesy of Monique Limbos.

Throughout the World Championship, this unnamed follower of our beloved sport will provide a few musings on some of the not so well documented  happenings in Sheffield – mostly from the luxury of his/her own settee.

The main talking points obviously surround the snooker played in the arena but there’s plenty of other things, both useful and useless, to take note of during a tournament of this extremity and length.

Read below for the latest offering, but who is behind the Free Ball?

Who do you think you are, Mr. Taylor?
By Free Ball

I found it a bit odd King Hendry was banished to the practice room last night for his insight. I understand the powers that be throwing Kenny Ken in there to botch up another “How it could have been played” shot. Poor Ken.

But Stephen has thrown all punditry shackles off recently, and as the boss of SnookerHQ hinted to me in a chat many moons ago, he could be good. Willie was funny yesterday, trying to egg him on into a comeback for an eighth title. “Comeback? Shoelaces laddie, shoelaces” . He’s been more than good the last two weeks, and I’d love to see him demonstrate shots on the table.

Predictably over the weekend with Mark Selby playing, the chances of a rerun of Dad’s Army or Flog It deteriorated as an early session-ending filler. That’s probably for the best, but a wee 10 minutes of Coast wouldn’t go amiss. Sorry Mark – but there’s more than a touch of Nigella about you.

Dennis was hilarious on Saturday in his near five-minute silence as a particular foul occurred in Selby’s semi. I can’t quite put my finger on which foul it was now. I could imagine Mr. Taylor seething in his seat as a player might actually have brought the great game into disrepute.

Anyway, I’ve definitely digressed here to the limit. Dennis didn’t last night. His mantra the whole tournament, bar the few days doctors were drawing lines on his stomach, was getting rid of mobile phones in the theatre. That obviously would be tricky to police. Less so, would be blatant ploys to have The Crucible audience laugh at comm-box comedy audible to 800 odd souls as a player tries to get down on yet another vital shot.

Regardless, I’d like to take the opportunity to wish the greatest player never to have lifted the old trophy a happy birthday, and also, Mr. SnookerHQ.

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