"Where's the Cue Ball Going?" (A Steve Davis Symphony)
Perhaps it was his carrot-topped insouciance
that grated on the nerves of his fellow pros.
Steve "Interesting" Davis:
supreme snooker machine,
peerless and faultless,
the consummate champion.
(Scene - The Masters, at Wembley Conference Centre)
Steve gets down on his shot,
his cue feeling nice and smooth,
slotting in the groove of his chin
as he cues an easy blue -
frame and match ball
for another easy win...
but then
the sound of a boiled sweet being unwrapped
sends Steve "The Nugget" into a Proustian spin:
he is back in that hot Romford nitespot.
Barry Hearn is licking the lager top wallpaper.
Sexy ladies in Dennis Taylor specs
dance around severed handbags
and shell suitcases.
They move their feet
in time to the beat
of the pounding,
black shoe/white sock-sounding muzak -
Level 42 taken to another level
~ 43 ~ 44 ~ going up and up and up.
Panic-stricken
(and in need of fried chicken),
Steve gropes in hope for the door
but where's it gorn?
He is blinded by the light show
projected on the shining dome
of Willie Thorne.
Steve comes to.
He miscues and rips the cloth.
The white ball jumps off
the grazed green baize
and into the tummy
of the red-faced referee,
the portly Len Ganley.
Len is momentarily winded
but he regains his composure.
He crushes the cue ball
into white powder.
Steve's opponent
(totally bored
just moments prior)
now rolls up a fiver,
strolls up to the table
and snorts the powder
up his snooter.
Man, you've got to love snooker!
B.R. 27/01/2016
that grated on the nerves of his fellow pros.
Steve "Interesting" Davis:
supreme snooker machine,
peerless and faultless,
the consummate champion.
(Scene - The Masters, at Wembley Conference Centre)
Steve gets down on his shot,
his cue feeling nice and smooth,
slotting in the groove of his chin
as he cues an easy blue -
frame and match ball
for another easy win...
but then
the sound of a boiled sweet being unwrapped
sends Steve "The Nugget" into a Proustian spin:
he is back in that hot Romford nitespot.
Barry Hearn is licking the lager top wallpaper.
Sexy ladies in Dennis Taylor specs
dance around severed handbags
and shell suitcases.
They move their feet
in time to the beat
of the pounding,
black shoe/white sock-sounding muzak -
Level 42 taken to another level
~ 43 ~ 44 ~ going up and up and up.
Panic-stricken
(and in need of fried chicken),
Steve gropes in hope for the door
but where's it gorn?
He is blinded by the light show
projected on the shining dome
of Willie Thorne.
Steve comes to.
He miscues and rips the cloth.
The white ball jumps off
the grazed green baize
and into the tummy
of the red-faced referee,
the portly Len Ganley.
Len is momentarily winded
but he regains his composure.
He crushes the cue ball
into white powder.
Steve's opponent
(totally bored
just moments prior)
now rolls up a fiver,
strolls up to the table
and snorts the powder
up his snooter.
Man, you've got to love snooker!
B.R. 27/01/2016
 |
| Snooker Studs (1983 vintage). Clockwise from left: an impressively hirsute Tony Meo tries to repel a diminutive vampire with a teenytiny crucifix; Steve Davis wears a sports/leisure jumper with the easy assurance of a man who has no time or need for a girlfriend; John Parrot waits for the school bus which will take him and his rowdy teammates to a feisty rugger match against their hated rivals St Werbeniuk's; and Kirk Stevens lets it all hang out and shows Steve how it should be done. |
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