Dawson's unexpected attitude to the "waiting game," which had been played for so long, came as a regular "bolt from the blue," and for a long time Roberts entirely declined to meet the Yorkshireman on level terms. However, the coming man had the powerful support of The Sportsman, and the champion was compelled to give way. He was naturally very anxious to play the match at the Egyptian Hall, whilst Dawson very properly contended that a neutral hall must be chosen for the battle. The latter, however, gave way on this to a certain extent, and agreed that the first half of the match should take place at the Argyll Hall— I am trusting to memory for this—and the second at the Egyptian Hall. This proved fatal to his chance of winning. At the end of the first week he held a useful little lead, but directly Roberts got back to the Egyptian Hall, where he naturally had the moral support of more than three-fourths of the spectators, he soon went to the front, and remained there for the rest of the game. Still, there was not much in it at the finish, and the idea of the champion being able to give 9,000, or even half that number of points, to players of the class of Dawson and Stevenson was effectually exploded.
Last month I wrote of John Roberts that "it is quite certain that there has never been such a wonderful showman," but he would have been more than human if he had not made occasional mistakes. He suffered from one of these in February, 1886, when he played a spot stroke match with Peall, for a sum of £200, given by the late Mr. Howard, one of the most generous patrons that professional billiard players were ever lucky enough to find. According to the conditions, they were to play four hours per day, each player to place his ball where he chose at the beginning of a break, and the highest aggregate scorer at the end of the week to win. The champion had everything against him in this match. In the first place, Peall was the better spot-stroke player, his short stature giving him a big pull over his opponent, who was bound to tire, owing to the necessity of constantly stooping. Then, well as Roberts played the "spot," his nature was far too impetuous to make him take at all kindly to the stroke, of which he speedily tired.
The result was that Peall led all the way, and won as he liked with a score of 16,734 against 11,925, though his best break was only one of 906, whilst his opponent's highest was 672.
The second mistake that the champion made was in the summer of 1893, when he played a game of 6,000 up with Frank Ives, the champion of America, for a big stake. The table in use was fitted with 3¼-inch pockets, and the balls were 2½ inches in diameter. Both these innovations were all in favour of the visitor, and, though Roberts led in the early part of the game, there was some heavy betting on the result, and, when all the money of the Ives division had been invested on advantageous terms, he made breaks of 2,539 (1,267 cannons) and 852 (402 cannons), and won by 2,179 points.
These long runs of cannons were made by working the red and his opponent's ball into one of the top corners. Once they were there, the small pockets and large balls simplified matters considerably, for the latter never got fairly "jammed" and were not likely to drop into the pocket, so that Ives could make as many cannons as he liked. There is no doubt, however, that he was a billiard genius— possibly the greatest player that ever lived— and it was probably only his untimely death that prevented him from becoming champion of English billiards.