During the past month of May there have been four billiard matches in London, each possessing distinctive interest. The champion during many undisputed past years met the present champion on the old championship table with three-inch pockets, and, although playing level against opponent to whom he had conceded very long starts in comparatively recent years, was handsomely beaten by him; old spot-stroke champion, playing all in, attempted to concede his promising son 5,000 in 12,000, but would have been nearly beaten without giving any start at all; Smith, young Darlington player who beat George Gray, put up winning game of extraordinary merit against John Roberts's present talented and youthful protege T. Newman, in the course of which he eclipsed all Soho Square break records with a 736; and the lady professional, Miss Ruby Roberts, managed to score over 3,500 points whilst W. Cook, who made frequent large breaks, put together 7,000—so that if Miss Roberts had been conceded half the game, as many a good male amateur would have needed to she would have won.
Our chief concern just now, however, is with the matches between Roberts and Inman and Smith and Newman—and especially, perhaps, the latter. Although Roberts was beaten by more than 2,000 in 15,000 under playing conditions his own choosing, the idea is not to be deduced that his play was other than of the highest class. There was all the old fire and dash; all the gentle and graceful close-cannon touch; all the magical positional manoeuvring; and all the old and wonderful ball-grouping by means of daring all-round or screw-back cannons. But this delightful play, beloved as it is by spectators, only on occasion lends itself to long break sequences when the table conditions are, as in the present case, more than usually onerous and exacting and it was Roberts's fine dash and abandon, glorious to behold, that were really his undoing. For he was pitted against the veritable sleuth hound of modern billiards—a player who takes no chances and who willingly gives none.
Instant sighting, two short movements of the cue, and the delivery are Roberts's utmost concession to the most difficult and delicate proposition. Inman makes sure even of the simplest shot by an addressing of the ball and a microscopic adjustment of aim that leaves error practically no margin to work in.
Interesting as was the match at the old Academy of Music between the veteran exponent and England's new and youthful champion, that at Soho Square between the two youths who have, in the course of a single season, forced themselves by sheer merit and talent into a foremost place in the billiard world, was, to many, more interesting still.
It was a ding-dong match from beginning to end, but such were the breaks compiled on both sides and so excellent was the play throughout, that the "ding-dong" could very well afford to be a see-saw of a thousand points. According to all rules of precedent each player ought, in succession, to have been "hopelessly beaten" at several stages of the game, but both refused to see the matter in that light at all. Devoting their best efforts to the most discouraging circumstances and reserving their most cheerful smiles for the most exasperating pieces of bad luck they kept themselves fit and in equable mood from beginning to end of the closely-fought match and set an unconscious example for all time to billiard players, both professional and amateur, of the true sportsmanlike way of conducting an encounter.