A short piece: is it time to look to Europe?
I am an aspiring snooker reporter. I do hope you enjoy this piece:
That snooker is as well-acquainted as it is with Potsdamer Platz is the clearest indicator of the progress our sport has made under Barry Hearn’s counsel.
If Berlin existed in Rodney Walker’s consciousness, it was only as a child-like pipedream. Under Hearn, this February weekend in the German capital has attained such a concrete space on our calendar that it’s a test to imagine a snooker year without it. In the eyes of this unconfident reporter, the umbrella-like roof unfurled over the Tempodrom may as well be an intimidating monument to Hearn’s ambition; he hasn’t been perfect, but if he can bring us to arenas like these, and pact them out, who better to call the plays on our behalf?
Absorbing each shot as Ding Junhui struggles, once again, to suppress the nervousness noticeable in many of his recent lunges at our game’s infamously elusive finish-lines, the German crowd wilfully yields to our sport’s uniqueness. The innocent pleasure they gain from its simplest gifts, such as the chalking of a cue-tip, seems absurd to a Briton long-accustomed to the old game – but more absurd still is that, for years, we never thought to offer our sport to this community, one so clearly besotted with snooker on the back of years of excellent Eurosport broadcasting.
Even China’s premier meeting, the International Championship, is an occasion plagued by vacant seats and echoes of mobile phones filling crowd-less voids. The reasons for these empty arenas are countless – but they’re an embarrassment, nonetheless, given that we’ve long told fans of other sports that the far-east has fallen irreversibly for our beautiful game.
As Ding added the final pots to his match-winning 71, spectators chipped in the sort of virtuous cheers that gift this arena’s atmosphere distinctiveness from those of other venues on tour. The German crowds award all their former champions – including those long-dethroned, like Ding – a kind of reverence rivalled only by the respect the patrons of Crucible offer their past winners – and Jimmy White. It’s this almost childish enthusiasm that leads one to wonder: are we venturing too far east in our search for like-minded lovers of this great oddity of ours?
Our sport may now have reached a point wherein it should look to Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands to solidify its future beyond these isles; Europe, even if one accounts for our recent divorce from its mainland, may merit further examination by the man who brought its potential to our attention.
That snooker is as well-acquainted as it is with Potsdamer Platz is the clearest indicator of the progress our sport has made under Barry Hearn’s counsel.
If Berlin existed in Rodney Walker’s consciousness, it was only as a child-like pipedream. Under Hearn, this February weekend in the German capital has attained such a concrete space on our calendar that it’s a test to imagine a snooker year without it. In the eyes of this unconfident reporter, the umbrella-like roof unfurled over the Tempodrom may as well be an intimidating monument to Hearn’s ambition; he hasn’t been perfect, but if he can bring us to arenas like these, and pact them out, who better to call the plays on our behalf?
Absorbing each shot as Ding Junhui struggles, once again, to suppress the nervousness noticeable in many of his recent lunges at our game’s infamously elusive finish-lines, the German crowd wilfully yields to our sport’s uniqueness. The innocent pleasure they gain from its simplest gifts, such as the chalking of a cue-tip, seems absurd to a Briton long-accustomed to the old game – but more absurd still is that, for years, we never thought to offer our sport to this community, one so clearly besotted with snooker on the back of years of excellent Eurosport broadcasting.
Even China’s premier meeting, the International Championship, is an occasion plagued by vacant seats and echoes of mobile phones filling crowd-less voids. The reasons for these empty arenas are countless – but they’re an embarrassment, nonetheless, given that we’ve long told fans of other sports that the far-east has fallen irreversibly for our beautiful game.
As Ding added the final pots to his match-winning 71, spectators chipped in the sort of virtuous cheers that gift this arena’s atmosphere distinctiveness from those of other venues on tour. The German crowds award all their former champions – including those long-dethroned, like Ding – a kind of reverence rivalled only by the respect the patrons of Crucible offer their past winners – and Jimmy White. It’s this almost childish enthusiasm that leads one to wonder: are we venturing too far east in our search for like-minded lovers of this great oddity of ours?
Our sport may now have reached a point wherein it should look to Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands to solidify its future beyond these isles; Europe, even if one accounts for our recent divorce from its mainland, may merit further examination by the man who brought its potential to our attention.
Last edited by journo on 02 Feb 2018, edited 1 time in total.
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journo - Posts: 18
- Joined: 01 February 2018
- Location: Edinburgh
- Snooker Idol: Ronnie OSullivan
- Walk-On: Anything by The Smiths