Some Reminiscences of Old-Time Players
Up to the present—except in the cases of John Roberts, senr., and Joseph Bennett—I have dealt exclusively with some of the lesser lights of the profession, and it seems to be quite time to devote an article or two to John Roberts, Junr., whom many old stagers will always maintain to have been the best player that ever lived. I cannot quite share this view, for if "Young John," as many of us used to style him up to the day of his death, could revisit this world in the full plenitude of his powers, I fancy that he would encounter three or four players a little too good for him. It must never be forgotten, however, the debt of gratitude that these players owe to him. It was he who first realized that the monotony of the spot stroke was rapidly killing public interest in the game, and, by introducing the spot-barred game, paved the way for the alteration in the method of spotting the red ball. This was done by the committee of the Billiards Association, but it must be cheerfully admitted that they were indebted to Mr. J. P. Mannock for the idea.
Then, John Roberts was the inventor of the "top-of-the-table" game, which is the backbone of the play of all the front rank of professionals of the present day.
In point of fact they were able to begin where the great master had left off, so that, in many respects, the enthusiasm of the greatest of his admirers is fully justified. It is quite certain that there has never been such a wonderful showman. He never failed to realize, even in the middle of a break, that the spectators of an exhibition game were beginning to tire of seeing him apparently a fixture at the top of the table, and would never hesitate to break up the most promising of positions, and to resort to more open play. His personality was wonderful, and no man has ever dominated—or ever will dominate—the game as he did for many years. For season after season he was able to fill the Egyptian Hall, and, as nine out of ten of the regular frequenters of the saloon went there to see him, and him only, he could always engage an opponent upon practically his own terms. This state of things was by no means good for the game, and led to various abuses. The pocket openings of some of the tables used at the Egyptian Hall must have been nearly, if not quite, four inches; the "push" was more painfully in evidence there than in any other saloon that I ever visited, and, mainly by its aid, Roberts used to rattle off runs of nursery cannons at such a pace that the marker had all his work cut out to keep pace with him, and found it impossible to make certain that every cannon he called was actually made, or whether the cue ball did not occasionally remain in contact with one of the object balls.
A still more unfortunate result of the autocratic manner in which Roberts ruled the game was that the other players were weak enough to do exactly what they were told to do. The result of this was that, for a long time, the champion had a standing offer out to give £100 to any man who could beat him with a start of 9,000 in 20,000, and it was rarely that any of them did so, though those who followed the game closely, or were at all behind the scenes, knew perfectly well that such results could not be genuine. It was the late Charles Dawson who finally had the good sense and courage to expose the "waiting game," and the result was that Roberts played a match upon level terms for the first time for some years.