| No. 4 Vol. 1 : July, 1911 | ![]() |
Price 2/6 per annum (Post Free) : Single Copies 2d (2½d Post Free). |
George Gray has met Melbourne Inman, and has plainly demonstrated that he is without a rival at the game of billiards as he plays it. Whether Fred Lindrum will trouble Gray or not remains to be seen, but after the Inman match we may take it for granted that no player in this country of whom we have any knowledge, is capable of emulating the feats of George Gray. Possibly, some unknown, some youthful aspirant to billiard fame, may be practising assiduously behind locked doors with a view of entering the lists against Gray, but if there is such a one we have yet to hear of him. As things stand, the young Australian is indisputably supreme in his own department, and we are of opinion that his supremacy is not likely to be seriously challenged by any player in the world. Even if we assume that Lindrum or our imaginary "unknown" proves capable of manipulating the composition ball in the effective style Gray has made his own, then it would mean a game of an extraordinary type as regards length, to settle who was the best red ball player. In the old days, when hundred breaks were distinctly useful even in the very best of billiards, a thousand up sufficed to decide the Championship. But when improved scoring conditions and a more complete grasp of scoring possibilities made breaks of three, four, and five hundred common enough, then the length of the game had to be increased to obtain a fair idea of the relative value of the leading players. When spot-stroke players reached a stage nearing perfection the stroke never entered into championship billiards under conditions which enabled it to be exploited in a stern struggle for mastery between players equally adept at it. Therefore, the old players of the spot stroke school were spared from defining the number of points necessary to settle who was really the best of them in a game for the Championship; although justice to one of the finest players that ever held a cue compels one to admit that had such a contest been possible, W. J. Peall must have carried off the honours in a game of any length.
But we cannot even conjecture what the duration of such a game should have been, and we are equally at a loss to Say how many points would have to be scored in a game between George Gray and another who might reasonably be expected to make a fight on even terms against the youthful prodigy. It is obvious enough that when seriously extended Gray can make thousand breaks practically at will under the conditions which have gained him merited fame, and if it is ever a case of "like meeting like," the game will have to be of tremendous length to afford a fair test of superiority. For exhibition purposes, of course, the length of the game does not matter in the least, provided it is long enough to extend over the period allotted to the match. But when we get away from this phase of the game, when we begin to think seriously about a dour and determined fight to the finish between two red ball champions, the prospect opens before us an astonishing vista of points; and it is possible that this aspect of the situation may eventually have to be seriously considered by the gentlemen responsible for the government of billiards.
This brings us to an interesting consideration of the possibilities before Gray in the next contest for the Championship. Here, of course, there is no getting away from the fact that the gifted lad must be considered very much of an unknown quantity. He plays with the composition ball, the Championship is decided with the ivory ball. But for this circumstance, the next Championship might be considered as good as over on the actual facts now before us it would be decidedly premature to nominate Gray as a certainty for the Championship when he first attempts to win it. It is generally accepted that the game with composition balls is one thing, and the game with ivory balls quite another. The difference may not be so enormous in regard to scoring potentialities in the hands of first class professionals who play the game as we knew it before the advent of Gray. But this phenomenal young player is altogether an exception. He plays a game of his own, and plays it as it was never played before. And so far as we know the composition ball is part and parcel of his game to an extent which will seriously handicap him when he turns his attention to the natural product. Yet, as a very well-known-player remarked to us quite recently, even if Gray only plays half as well with the ivories as he does with the composition ball he will be good enough to win the Championship. This point is certainly open to question in the minds of many experts, but there is no gainsaying the statistical fact that if we halve Gray's breaks since his arrival in this country he still tops the records by a long way. It follows, then, as a matter of figures, that Gray has only to play half as well with the ivories as he has done with the composition ball to annex the Championship at the first time of asking. But it is easy to prove almost anything by figures, and in the present instance there are in any other factors to be considered besides the actual reckoning of points. Billiard history, so far as it relates to the point at issue, is all in favour of Gray up to a certain stage. For years before his "Match of the Century" against Charles Dawson, John Roberts had played with bonzoline balls exclusively, but he won comfortably enough when the conditions of the match compelled his return to ivories. But we must not hastily conclude from this that Gray can do likewise. Gray's particular stroke is admittedly easier with the composition ball, whereas other strokes are not more difficult with ivory, some less so. John Roberts was returning to the type of ball he had known from his youth up, not so Gray. Doubtless he is practising with a view of gaining an intimate knowledge of the ivory ball before the Championshipbut suppose his practice brings him face to face with the fact that the ivory ball possesses intrinsic properties inherent and ineradicable which render his red ball game impossible? What then?
A good many years ago old Captain Crawley wrote "An open game is generally more successful than a cramped and cautious one." This remark is as true to-day as ever it was in a general sense, and when we deal with players of exceptional ability we are entitled to go beyond the words penned by the gallant Captain for the edification of cuemen of his day and generation. Safety enabled Bennett to beat John Roberts for the Championship, but when the great wizard of the cue reached something approaching the meridian of his prowess as a billiard player the safety tactics of Bennett were shattered, and John Roberts reigned supreme. History has repeated itself, to an extent, in the case of Gray and Inman, and it may now be taken as unquestionable that in billiards, as in war, the offensive is the best defence. For the first day or so it seemed that the dogged, worrying, fighting game exploited so often and so well by Inman would have its effect against even the all-conquering Gray. But as soon as the Australian took the measure of his man, as soon as he settled down to play the game which makes him a law unto himself in billiards, there was no hope for Inman. What the Twickenham "Terrier" wanted was a break of well over five hundred toward the end of the second day's play. If he had made this, and followed it with others of the same calibre he might conceivably have knocked Gray off his game and won the match. But safety play alone could not effect this end; it was useless when Gray got going and turned on the full intensity of his marvellous scoring powers.
Undoubtedly, safety play will take a man a long way in billiards, but it will never enable him to hold his own against the very best. All other things being equal, the safety player has the odds on his side in an important and nerve-trying match, but this is the most that can be said in favour of cramping the game as a match-winning force. And as safety play is admittedly the most difficult side of billiards to master at all thoroughly, it is very much open to question whether better results would not be obtained by cultivating the open game instead of concentrating so much attention on safety. It may be urged that a succession of well-played safety strokes is calculated to put an opponent off his game, and that in consequence such strokes have an indirect value far greater than the actual points involved at the time they are played. This may be true, but in our opinion no safety tactics ever perfected were half so demoralising as a series of useful breaks, and when it comes to piling on the points as Gray did against Inman, well, we can only say that the non-striker is reduced to a condition of impotence to which no safety play could ever bring him. It is all for the best that the highest phases of our great indoor national game reward enterprise in this way, as it would be bad for billiards if the man who played for "keeps" all the time always had the best of the tactical situation. It pays sometimes to open the game, and for the sake of billiards at its brightest and best we are glad that there are instances to show that in order to win at billiards you must score rather than attempt to prevent the other man from scoring. We appreciate the value and the necessity of scientific safety play, but it does not invariably succeed, and may, on the contrary, only prejudicially affect the scoring capability of the player who plays "safety."
During the first three days of Coronation week George Gray delighted billiard enthusiasts with a typical exhibition against William Cook. It was a happy thought which prompted this display of first-class billiards in the West End at a time when so many distinguished visitors from all parts of the Empire were assembled in London. There was an excellent response. Notabilities from many parts of the globe coloured red on the map were present at every session, and expressed their satisfaction and delight at the supreme skill of George Gray. One gentleman went so far as to say that it was worth the journey from the Antipodes to witness, but he was an Australian, and can scarcely be considered as an utterly unbiased critic. There can be no doubt, however, that the magic of Gray's billiards made a great impression on the "Imperial" audience which patronised the match in the Grand Hall, Leicester Square, and when the young Australian makes his world's tour he should reap good results from his short game at Thurston's during Coronation week.
It says much for the popularity of billiards in every part of the Empire that at a time when the call of both duty and pleasure was insistent so many important personages over here for the great event found time to drop in for an hour or two and have a look at billiards as George Gray plays it. It shows, too, that the game has lost none of its peculiar charm as a welcome change to those who have important matters of business on hand. As many a professional man knows, there is nothing quite like billiards in this respect. There is some indefinable quality about the game, some subtle property which gently fascinates both players and onlookers. This distinctive and delightful attribute of the game of billiards was very evidently experienced on the occasion now under review. For the time being these men of many races and climes were absorbed in watching a gifted youth manipulate the red ball in his own masterly style, and they were obviously content to rest for a time away from the stress of a strenuous Coronation week in London. Not a word was spoken as Gray steered the red ball with inimitable skill up and down the table, and compelled it to yield him the harvest of points he can gather from it apparently at will.
When, at last, he finished, there was a ripple of applause, a slight buzz of appreciative remarks, and then attentive silence again until Cook made way for Gray. One could not help thinking whether any other indoor game in the world could have drawn such homage from an assemblage gathered from the four corners of the earth.