Though I can lay no claim to ever having been other than an enthusiastic trier at this wonderful game of ours, as you yourself can testify from our many local league encounters over a lot more years that either of us may care to remember, I still do love the game and wish I had more time to play and practice.
The previous correspondence in your columns on practice play set me thinking back to the time when I was playing billiards to the best of my limited talents. This was around the age of 40/45 when I notched up a handful of century breaks, all made in non-competitive play. I remember vividly the feeling of sheer panic when I reached my first ever 98, needing just a forcing in-off white to reach the magic ton. A lifetime's ambition could be achieved, or dashed - perhaps for ever - on just that one shot. Fortunately I got it and my sanity returned. Do other players have similar experiences? I was delighted to be playing my old friend, Ken Smales, just before this last Christmas, when, from nowhere, and after a lifetime of trying, Ken suddenly and seemingly effortlessly, glided to his first ever century break. What a Christmas present.
Returning to the practice theme. At the time of my maximum playing ability, I was working in the city centre (Nottingham) and playing for about one hour at lunch time almost every weekday. I was not, however, playing billiards. The game we then played, with what I believe were at least partly, "local," rules and stretching back to pre second-world-war days, was a version of Russian pool. We called it, "sixty-one up." as I remember it, and the game seems to have died out in this area, all the coloured snooker balls were used except the Brown. Black, Pink, Green, and Yellow, were placed on their normal spots. Blue was placed on the Brown-spot, and the normal Blue-spot was occupied by a red, "hazard-ball." to commence scoring, each player had to make a compulsory cannon from Black to any other ball, but avoid hitting the red. Once this Black cannon had been achieved, break-building commenced. This was a combination of pots and cannons. The colours could only be potted in specific pockets. Black (9) in the top pockets, Pink (6) anywhere, Blue (7) in the middle pockets, Green (5) only in the, "Green pocket," and Yellow (3) only in the, "Yellow pocket." Potting into the wrong pocket wiped out that break and also any previous points on the board. After three consecutive pots of the same ball it stayed off the table for one further shot in the break and was then returned to its spot. All cannons counted two. Any in-off, or movement of the red ball, or any other foul shot, also wiped out a player's score and, in addition, required money to be paid into the kitty. There were, of course, other rules and nuances to the game which were handed down at my club, at that time the Nottingham Mechanics. There were usually four players, individually or in pairs, but sometimes more.
Perhaps other readers have played similar variations on this theme. It was a marvellous game for developing positional play, sharpening potting skills, and plotting helpful cannons. Some of the best Notts players, all regular century break billiards men of the pre-war and immediate post-war era were regular exponents of Sixty-one up. All of them graced the local billiards league and played to a much higher standard generally than prevails in our league today.
I particularly recall the practical joking of one chap spectating at cutthroat games, and watching the two-shilling pieces go into the Kitty as players went bust, he would at some stage - and unseen by the players, surreptitiously put a one-shilling piece into the Kitty. He reckoned it well worth the expenditure just to hear the arguments when someone won and then starting accusing the others of short-changing.
I would be interested to learn whether any of your readers have any similar experiences or other unusual ways of getting billiards practice.