The Stevenson v. Gray Contest
AND SOME SIDE MATTERS THAT ARE INVOLVED THEREIN
The first of the three great matches that have been arranged between Stevenson and Gray—that at Holborn Hall, London—has passed into billiard history and expectant eyes are now turned towards Liverpool, where the second game of the rubber commences with New Year's Day. In the opening match of the series Stevenson started strongly, played gracefully, stayed bravely, and failed when not very far from the post. The turn came on the second Monday afternoon, when Gray seemed suddenly to discover the heretofore locked secret of that left middle pocket with the bonzoline contact. Previously Stevenson had played the middle pocket run-through, whenever he chose to resort to it in the midst of one of his admirably-varied breaks, with greater confidence and fluency than Gray himself. But from being a thousand behind at the half-way, Gray more vigorously headed for home and after Tuesday was on Stevenson's heels or in front of him.
Both men were always trying, and trying hard; and as to the absolute genuineness of the encounter from the first stroke to the last there cannot be the least shadow of a doubt. The paying public recognised this fact and the match had liberal patronage accorded to it throughout the fortnight. That the same amount of interest will be taken during the fortnight in Liverpool is hardly to be expected and if the rubber should be won by Gray at the end of the second match the prospect of the Caxton Hall contest in February providing a great draw would be a somewhat remote one.
It is dangerous to prophesy, in billiards as in other things, but, although we should much like to see" honours easy " after the Liverpool meeting, we hardly think that, in the nature of things, this is a likely contingency. The reasons are threefold. In the first place Gray's game follows the line of least resistance; in the second place he is an absolute specialist in that risk-eliminating class of play; and in the third place his fortnight at Holborn Hall (with balls and table of which those at Liverpool will be an exact replica) is an asset that must weigh much more strongly in his favour than in that of Stevenson, especially as Gray will all along have the recollection in his mind—the value of which is known to every billiard player—that the formidable opponent whom he is meeting and whom he had at the outset every reason to fear, has already gone down before him.
We anticipate that the champion will return an even better average at Liverpool than that returned by him in London and should not be surprised if he even exceeded the 543 break which won for him, at Holborn Hall, to the satisfaction of every member of the public who saw him play there, Messrs. Burroughes and Watts's £50 cheque. But even so we should expect, for the reasons already stated, that Gray will again win and by a considerably heavier margin.
Out of this series of contests and the circumstances that have surrounded them there arises a question that is, perhaps, even more important to the world of billiards than the matches themselves, important and epoch-making though these be. We refer to the dislocation of ordinary match or exhibition play that is occasioned when a great billiard player, with a heavy monetary consideration at issue, changes for the purposes of such issue from one class of ball to another.
Whether it is a Gray changing from crystalate to bonzoline, or a Stevenson changing from ivory to bonzoline, the result seems to be that the player concerned is temporarily incapacitated from playing anything but the most mediocre game with the partially-shelved medium. Gray, having forsaken crystalate for the time being, would not dream of apportioning his match arrangements between that composition and bonzoline, whilst ivory would remain still farther out of the question. Similarly, Stevenson, required by engagements already made to play with ivories both before and after the Holborn Hall meeting and whilst practising with bonzoline, makes, in the Soho Square tournament, against Inman and Reece successively, the lamentably poor showing of 4,205 and 3,678 points against 8,000 and 7,500 points actually scored. Called upon to give starts of 1,000 and 1,500 the champion might have received nearly half the game in each instance and still have lost. He furthermore refers to his next tournament heat as one in which he will be"watching Diggle play."
Need the change from one class of ball to another really signify all this difference. We will even put the point more strongly and ask: Need the change from one class of ball to another make any substantial difference in a really great player's game, provided that the varying nature of the balls be thoroughly studied by him and provided for accordingly.
A professional cricketer is expected to be able to adapt his game to wet wickets or dry; a professional golfer is expected to play almost equally well whether the course is fairly level or abounds in"hanging lies"; a professional jockey is expected to grasp without much difficulty the idiosyncrasies of his various mounts. It seems to be the professional billiard player alone who is utterly and completely floored by a sudden change from one set of circumstances to another.
And yet the conditions in billiard playing are of a much more fixed nature than in cricket, golf, or riding. Wind and weather have to be taken into account in all outdoor sports, and although an extremer degree of accuracy is called for in billiards than in any other sport or pastime, outdoor or in, the fact remains that a billiard ball, whether made of ivory or composition, is a fixed and settled quantity and, once studied, is known for ever. If professional players rely always upon playing themselves into their game with the differing classes of balls the element of uncertainty will remain, but if they will take the trouble to master the principles under which the balls differ and to adapt their play automatically to such principles, we feel convinced that a thoroughly expert player would be able to change the class of ball with as much impunity and success as an expert rider can change his horse. It would, indeed, seem that time and again they can do so even as matters stand, for Reece, starting on Boxing Day to play Lindrum with bonzoline balls immediately after his runaway victory with ivories against Stevenson and his concentrated fortnight against Inman, scored his requisite 1,367 points in two hours and twenty minutes, although during the same time Lindrum was occupying the table to the extent of 756 points additional. He also made two days later a 645 break.
Where, then, does the exact truth of this irritating uncertainty about the different classes of balls lie. That ivories and compositions must be accorded different treatment is a billiard axiom known to all men. But that change from the one to the other of necessity involves a species of paralysis on the part of even the finest players we believe to be no billiard axiom and no truth, but a pure and simple bogey, and the sooner this fact is realized and acted upon by those most concerned the better will it be for the interests and popularity of the game at large.
A billiard table may cost money but it is always an asset and a good make sells for comparatively little less than its original value after twenty years' use. As to current expense billiards is a vastly less expensive game than golf, or, indeed, any other pastime.