Of course I am glad that I have won the greatest honour that the game has to bestow, but otherwise my feelings are a trifle mixed.
The title ought to be as good as it looks, in 1921 as in any other year, but only a species of vanity could tempt me to assert that I have secured all that is implied in the words "champion of English billiards." It is no fault of mine that this season's revival of the event, which looked so promising when the entry list closed, developed into something approaching a fiasco. But it would be absurd for me to ignore the obvious; the withdrawal of Smith and Inman robbed the competition of a great deal of interest, and of a large measure of the credit that ordinarily goes with the title. As with Smith last year (when Inman, as holder, stood aloof), the public— or at least a considerable section of it—look askance at the whole result of the big event of the year. I won the title fairly and squarely enough, but the billiards world is naturally thinking that there might have been a different issue if Smith and Inman had played.
The title would have been harder to win, of course, had the two past champions stood their ground, but might not the assumption of failure be as wrong (on the part of the public) in my case, as it was eventually proved to be in the case of Smith last year? When he got the chance the champion of 1920 proved pretty conclusively that the title had not then fallen into hands unworthy of the honour from any possible point of view.
The same chance is bound to come my way, and until it is proved on the billiard table that nominally I may be champion but that actually I am something different, I may reasonably lay claim to such advantages as the title of champion implies. I prefer not to go into details relative to what I have done or what I am going to do, but perhaps I may suggest that my play during the last few years will bear comparison with that achieved by former holders of the title. For the rest my present position is not without its honour and material advantage. In winning I have achieved an ambition that nothing can rob me of, and I have earned the right to certain privileges that the title carries. Amongst these is the claim to be on the scratch mark at least in every event in which I take part.
And yet, despite this right, which has been acknowledged throughout the history of the game, I shall within the next few weeks be accepting a start from my predecessors in the title. I have still to meet Smith in the Burroughes & Watts tournament, the original handicapping of which decreed that I should receive 500. Under the altered circumstances I suggested and pressed for a review of the position, emphasizing the anomalous position that I was placed in as champion. My arguments, however, failed to carry conviction, and I was informed officially that the handicap must stand. This decision placed me in a rather delicate position, but rather than run contrary to the best sporting traditions I have decided to play, leaving the whole matter to the judgment of the public. After all, 500 is neither here nor there in grand billiards of 16,000 up.