A few years ago we were playing in the semi-final of a team cup match with games of 150 up. We had lost the first of the four games, so it was crucial to win the second. The scores stood at 146 all, our player at the table and all the balls behind the baulk line. He miscues and sends his cue ball into the pocket. The referee (one of our team) calls"foul—two away" and marks the board (I thought"we have lost it") The opponent then takes our players ball from the pocket, and thinking he is playing a double baulk, places it in the"D"and is addressing it across the baulk line. (I thought"we've won!") At mis point the referee reaches over and picks up the ball. I said "What is going on?"He replied, "his game is ail about good sportsmanship, I couldn't stand by and watch him play with the wrong ball". The opponent then plays with the correct ball, leaving a double baulk for our man, who misses and so loses the game. I said to the ref"Who's on next, the trapeze artist?""What do you mean?"he asked. I said"Don't they usually follow the clowns?"We went on to lose the match.
In 1951,1 first played on"our"table for the Stothort & Pitt Club. (Stothort & Pitt were an engineering company whose cranes may still be seen in ports all over the world). The table was situated in the basement of the works office block, the floor of which was two foot lower than the road.
Before the flood protection scheme was completed, two or three times every year, there was a foot of water in the road— consequently there would be three feet of water in the Billiards Room. The police always gave the company a warning of flooding, and, using special jacks, the table would be lifted before the water came up.
On one occasion, the water was four feet deep in the road, so it was over six feet in the Billiard Room. The table was jacked up so the cushion rails were touching the ceiling. This was the only time the legs got wet.
In 1957, we moved to a specially built room annexing the canteen. Everything was"rosy" for 30 years, until in 1987 along came a certain Mr. Robert Maxwell into the company. [He of the Daily Mirror fame]. I was given three days in which to dismantle the table as he needed the room for a computer. We were at the time, half-way through a season, with six snooker and two billiard teams playing in the Bath League. Fortunately—with the help of other clubs in the League, all eight teams were able to complete their fixtures. Eleven years on and the table is still in pieces, unable to find premises.
I can forgive Maxwell for the 400 million pound pensions fiasco, but I can't forgive him for destroying our billiards section.