You
write off the truly great players at your peril. Old clichés like ‘form is
temporary, class is permanent’ may be a tired way of putting it but it doesn’t
mean it isn’t true.
John
Higgins looked like he was entering a steep decline towards the end of last
season but has won the first title of this campaign. At 37, Ronnie O’Sullivan is at
an age where players have traditionally gone backwards but has in fact won the
last two stagings of the World Championship.
And
what of the other member of that golden triumvirate who each turned
professional in 1992 and each conquered the snooker world?
This
is a really important season for Mark Williams. He has been treading water for
the last year or so and the question remains whether he can find his stroke
again or, to overdo the swimming metaphors, drown while thinking of former glories.
Along
with Stephen Hendry, these three (Higgins, O’Sullivan and Williams) have been
the best players I’ve seen in the time I’ve been covering snooker since the mid
1990s. They are very different men from distinctly different parts of the UK
but have each scaled heights most players can only dream of.
The
other day I was leafing through Snooker Scene’s report of the 2002 UK
Championship, which Williams won with a 10-9 victory over Ken Doherty.
One
of his quotes stood out: “People back home thought I was finished but I’ve
shown them that I’m not.”
Hang
on, I thought, finished? In 2002? How could anybody have thought this?
But
Williams had won only three ranking titles since becoming world champion two
and half years earlier. It marked a departure from the remarkable consistency
he displayed from finishing runner-up in the Irish Open at the end of 1998 to
winning the world title in 2000, in which he seemed to figure in virtually
every final.
Leading
up to that 2002 UK Championship he had seen Higgins and O’Sullivan win sundry
titles. Hendry was still a force and Peter Ebdon had become world champion.
Williams,
though, won that UK title and it marked the start of a memorable season in which he
captured the big three trophies, remaining to this day only the third player after
Hendry and Steve Davis to achieve this. He played quite brilliantly throughout
this spell, very much an authentic no.1 in an era jammed with contenders to
that crown.
The
following season he completed the hitherto unmentioned ‘BBC slam’ by capturing
the LG Cup. He arrived for his UK title defence in 2003 having won his first
match in a remarkable 48 successive ranking tournaments.
But
that great record ended with defeat to Fergal O’Brien and from then on things suddenly got worse for this most laidback of players.
We
often hear it said that he dropped as low as 47th in the world
rankings. It’s important, though, to point out that this was only
provisionally. I covered pretty much every event on site back then and Mark was
clearly devoid of confidence.
Some
said he wasn’t practising properly, that he was playing too much poker, that he
had management troubles. Whatever it was, he wasn’t his old self and this was
reflected by his performances on the table.
He
picked up the 2006 China Open but was relegated from the top 16 in 2008.
Many
saw this as a humiliation but Williams’s character was key to him pulling
himself out of the mire with the minimum amount of fuss, drama or complaint. When
Ken Doherty was forced back in the qualifiers it felt like a death – of his
career – but Williams, a man with no airs and graces, took it on the chin and just
got on with it.
He
returned to the top 16 after one season and eventually got back to world no.1
after winning the inaugural German Masters in 2011.
This
was a triumphant return to the top for a player whose achievements were in
danger of being forgotten. At his best, Williams had been one of the few
players who could beat Higgins and O’Sullivan at their best. His game had
always been based around brilliant single ball potting, forcing openings, but
he was also adept at scrapping it out if he had to. He would have made far more
centuries had he not taken his foot off the gas when frames were mathematically
safe.
He’s
always been a fierce competitor. His upbringing is surely one reason for this.
I asked him once who he had supported in the 1985 world final. Williams said he
hadn’t watched the conclusion of the most famous match in snooker history as he was out supporting his father, a miner, who was on
strike during a notorious time in modern British history when the country’s
industrial landscape shifted, huge numbers of jobs were lost and entire
communities changed forever.
It
may have been these experiences which forged in Williams a general distrust of
and distaste for authority and a desire not to play the PR game. This was evident in his unwise but in many ways innocent dismissal of the Crucible as a venue last year.
The first time I interviewed him he told me to stay where I was when we'd finished. He downed half a can of Coke and then loudly belched the name Jenny Jones, who at the time was a leading US chatshow host. I've liked him ever since.
That may sound unprofessional or even odd behaviour from a leading sportsman but I'd much rather that than 'I hit the ball well and felt good' or a long litany of tedious complaints. Mark's never pretended to be anything other than what he is: a working class boy made good.
People mock
Williams for his tracksuits but, unlike some players, he isn’t interested in
portraying an image. He is who he is. Who he is was defined by where he comes
from.
He
respects the other greats but was never in awe of them. He had just turned 22
when he thrashed Hendry 9-2 in the 1997 British Open final. Asked afterwards
how he felt he replied: “I’m gutted. I wanted to beat him 9-1."
His
consoling words to Davis after the legend lost his top 16 place were, “don’t
worry, Steve, I can get you tickets to the Masters.”
That
German victory two years ago came after he narrowly lost the UK Championship
final to Higgins, having led 9-5. Williams was 8-5 up to Stuart Bingham in the
Australian Open final a few months later but lost 9-8. Then he lost 10-9 from
9-7 up to Mark Selby in the final of the Shanghai Masters.
That
defeat, like the one to O’Brien eight years earlier, signalled the start of a
rocky spell. The Welsh left-hander lost his head over a refereeing decision and, rarely for a genuinely sporting player, took the defeat badly.
Put simply, Williams has looked his old self all too infrequently
in comparison to old foes Higgins and O’Sullivan in revent times.
But
they may have done him a favour. I’m sure Mark must look at them and feel that
if they can still do the business then so can he.
He
started the current season 15th in the world rankings. He has been
practising hard for the new season. In a long sporting career, motivation is
sometimes difficult to summon up, but the prospect of slipping into oblivion
tends to focus the mind.
At
his best, Williams has been a bully at the table. He has dominated the very
best the game has had to offer and the effortless style he has – which of
course has come after much effort – is great to watch.
If
he can hit his stride again then he has every chance to land more silverware. I
have to disagree here with some other pundits: the standard hasn’t risen
appreciably since the early part of the millennium when Williams, Higgins and O’Sullivan
were sharing the titles around. If he can produce anything close to that level
then he can win any tournament he enters.
The
test will come not only in the big events but against the top players, most of
whom are now younger than him.
Williams
was especially poor in the Masters last season, which was painful to watch for
those who have followed him for so long. He also lost in the first round at the
Crucible, failing to put young Michael White in his place.
Well,
new season, new start and all that. He seems determined to not – to borrow a
phrase of his – collapse like a cheap tent.
I’m
sure there are people back home who once more think he’s finished. They may
have to eat their words again.