The last great snooker test for me came towards the end of 1963 when the BBC asked me to play a series of televised matches against half a dozen different opponents. I considered this to be a good way of bowing out in front of millions of spectators, and since I was playing very little at the time I went into a strict training regime, practising extremely hard, pushing myself along, and going to Grayshott Hall to get myself really fit.
Before the series began I was told that this was the first occasion in which videotape would be used for snooker matches and this would, of course, enable them to be replayed later if desired. I was very glad of this. I had played a great deal on television ever since James Logie Baird himself worked the camera in Leicester Square and all he could get on the screen was my hands. But all my performances had vanished into thin air, never to be savoured again. This series would be different.
I was particularly keen, therefore, to do something worthy of being retained for the sporting archives and wondered whether I would manage to make a century break sometime during the six weeks. I was greatly elated, then, to make a break of 118 on the first match against John Pulman. 'That's it,' I thought. 'When some lad in the future asks his dad what my century breaks were like, he'll be able to see it for himself.'
The first opportunity for a replay came some time later when a Canadian TV company applied to the BBC for the tape of my century. To my astonishment and anger they were told that none existed. I was furious that somebody in their ignorance had wiped off such a notable sporting achievement - something akin to Bannister's four-minute mile. I was even more incensed when, a long time afterwards, I learned that, in fact, the BBC had not used videotape for the series in the first place.
In view of the coolness of relations at this time I suppose it was surprising that I should be asked to make guest appearances on BBC TV's Pot Black, presenting the trophy and cheques. But I was happy to take part in this exciting step forward for the game. I am sorry that I retired to early to be able to play myself on colour television: it really is the most wonderful shop-window for the game. When Pot Black began in Birmingham in 1969, using an old cinema as the studio, the producer had to press-gang people into filling up the empty rows of seats. Now it is recorded in the magnificent new Pebble Mill studios and there is a massive waiting list for tickets even though 1,200 people can be accommodated. And when the Australian Eddie Charlton took the title in 1972 and 1973 the Australian fans were so agog that the Australian TV authorities immediately booked the whole series to be shown across the country.
The idea of this one-frame sudden-death contest came from Ted Lowe, the commentator, who has Sydney Lee as referee. Ted, now a very successful businessman, was the manager of the Leicester Square Hall throughout its existence and did a marvellous job of creating a friendly atmosphere among clients; he seemed to know everybody. He organised many charity shows at the hail and raised substantial sums for the players' benevolent fund among others. Each year he presented a dinner and cabaret at the Park Lane Hotel and on the Sunday after the FA Cup Final he would invite both teams to join us. It was a memorable occasion when Stanley Matthews, Stan Mortensen and the Blackpool team arrived with young Nat Lofthouse and the Bolton Wanderers, team they had beaten in that classic 1953 final.
I first met Ted when on several occasions I gave exhibitions at the recreation room of a factory where he was an office-worker. When asked by his boss to play me at snooker on a 28-point start, he beat me easily - and ten days later I received a letter from him asking me to get him into the profession somewhere, anywhere. His whispering commentary, now such an integral part of Pot Black, began when he took over a Leicester Square commentary when Raymond Glendenning lost his voice. In those days the commentator sat among the audience, as in boxing today, and so the whispering voice was essential to avoid disturbing customers or players.
As with the News of the World tournament, Pot Black has thrown up some new faces eager to take over from the more familiar (I cannot say old) ones. Among them is Graham Miles, a man in his early thirties and a professional player for only five years. He first came to prominence by beating John Pulman in the second round of the 1973 world snooker championship but lost to Eddie Charlton next time out. His lucky break came when my brother Fred, having had a heart attack, withdrew from the 1974 Pot Black tournament and he was asked to fill the vacancy. He did not let the grass grow under his feet, defeating John Spencer in the final to take the trophy and £i,000 prize - a feat which he repeated in 1975. He then went on to reach the 1974 world championship final, though he was easily beaten 22-12 by Ray Reardon. Miles has a style all of his own with a sighting which is an exaggeration of mine. My cue was under my chin but Miles has his under his neck. But it seems to be effective enough. I saw him make a break of over 6o with the delicacy of an artist and he is one of the players to have made a break of 147. With his ability to keep cool under pressure he should hold his own in the game for a long time to come.
Oddly enough, his opponent in the 1975 final was himself a first-timer: twenty-five-year-old Dennis Taylor. Dennis, who won the British Junior Billiards title in 1968, is another player to watch. In a two-week match in Toronto he made twenty-four centuries, six of them in excess of 130.
The present world champion, Welshman Ray Reardon, went into the pits at fourteen but then joined the police force and ended up as police snooker champion. He was my opponent once at an exhibition in Worcester Police Recreation Hall. As usual I split the reds up at the opening stroke. That gave me a chance of turning in a century break for the edification of the audience and there was seldom any chance of my opponent being able to do it instead. But this time the plan misfired; Ray took over the table and made a break of 97. As it was I who had been engaged to do the exhibition I thought we had better play another frame where I did manage to make the ton. Ray reached the final of the English Amateur title in 1956 and might well have won had not the tip come off his cue. Although he was leading at the time he never won another frame. He did, however, win the title in 1964, beating one of his present most serious rivals, John Spencer. Since then Ray has beaten Spencer in three out of four professional championship meetings and has a long list of centuries to his credit - including three or four of the once-unimaginable 147s.
In my days high breaks were so difficult to come by because we were playing on standard billiard-tables. In fact before every important match a committee member of the BA&CC used to come round and test the table with a template before issuing you with a certificate that the table was indeed standard. But as snooker became popular, so the table makers have developed pockets which make potting somewhat easier. The pros like it that way even though they have to smile at some of the less-than-perfect shots which go in - and the crowds prefer it: they like to see the balls disappearing too. It certainly makes those 147s easier - but good luck to them.
John Spencer, Ray Reardon's great rival, from Radcliffe, near Manchester, was an outstanding billiards and snooker player at the age of eighteen, but national service seemed to break his concentration on the game and he did not play seriously for another ten years. It was in his comeback season that he lost to Reardon in the final of the English Amateur competition but he took the title two years later in 1966. Turning pro soon afterwards, he made quick progress to capture the title in 1969 only to lose to Reardon again in the 1970 semi-final. He regained the title in Australia at the next attempt, then lost to 'Hurricane' Higgins in the 1972 final, much to everyone's surprise. He won the Pot Black title in 1970 and 1971. He is a most entertaining player to watch and a likeable chap. He has a flamboyant style, is always on the attack and, using the worst-looking cue I have ever seen, plays screw shots bigger and better than anyone I know.
Rex Williams, another Pot Black regular, is a technically very correct player who at seventeen was the youngest man ever to win the English Amateur snooker title. He showed early promise as a professional by beating Clark McConachy for the World Billiards title in 1968 and has kept it on three occasions since - including 1974 when he beat Eddie Charlton. Many years ago I tipped him to become world snooker champion but after a health setback he has never, to my mind, quite regained his old form. And with yet another insurge of young players into the professional ranks - as reflected in the Pot Black personnel - he may find the going tough. Still, with a few 147 breaks tucked under his waistcoat, a sense of humour and a good business brain I do not think he will go far wrong.
Jack Rae, who learned his game in the billiard-room of his father's pub, is a great favourite on Pot Black though I think he will pardon me for saying that he is conceding some of the players a year or two. He, too, will find it hard work against the new 'hungry fighters' but will be in demand for a long time yet for his witty exhibitions alone. His trick shots are excellent - especially the display which he calls Chinese Billiards in which he uses two cues like chopsticks to pick the balls up, then makes his shots by letting them roll back down the cues.
'Hurricane' Higgins, who took the Irish title from Jack after he had held it for twenty years, came into the game with a great flourish, beating Pulman, Williams and Spencer in 1972 to become, at twenty-two the youngest world snooker champion ever. He obviously attracted a vast amount of publicity, a great deal of which was good for the game but not all of which was good for him. I am afraid that until he masters his naturally exuberant nature he will not hit the peaks once predicted for him.
Eddie Charlton was a late developer in that he turned pro in 1960 at the age of thirty-five but he has since twice beaten the youngsters to take the Pot Black title. He has played on my table at home several times and I admire his play tremendously; his is the best orthodox stance and cue action I know. In his time he has held innumerable Australian titles. He is extremely fit and trains very hard - but thinks that his fitness does not compare with his amateur days when he was also an enthusiastic footballer, surfer, boxer, squash player, cricketer and golfer! In the World Snooker Championship he has twice reached the semi-final and twice the final. I have a feeling that he will make it before long.
With the game booming and so much eager competition waiting in the wings I doubt whether any of these excellent players will ever dominate the action as I did for so many years. And this, I feel sure, is in the best interests of the game and of the pros themselves. But although this means more opportunities for a greater number of players I have never in my life encouraged a youngster to enter the profession - and I am not going to start now.
As for me, people still ask me whether I miss the game. Not a bit, is my reply. I spent just over fifty years in the game. It was very lucrative, very enjoyable but terribly exacting. And, in the end, it was enough.
But the breaks came my way. I reached the peak of my chosen profession, an achievement not given to many. And I was able to retire while still at the peak, so fulfilling my one remaining ambition.
I'm not complaining.