There is an excellent article on the rules of English billiards in the current issue of the "Billiard Times," in which it is contended that the ideal game of billiards is undoubtedly one in which every legitimate stroke is permitted to have full sway. The article is obviously prompted by the fear that George Gray's marvellous proficiency in one particular phase of the game will sooner or later lead to another drastic alteration in the rules, and in a series of closely reasoned arguments the author seeks to prove that the restriction of any legitimate stroke is, to put it mildly, undesirable.
This is the view long held by the "Sporting Life" and strongly advocated in this column from time to time during the past five years. It is a well-known fact that every alteration made in the rules since there was a properly constituted code has been in the alleged interests of first-class professional players. I say alleged, because professional billiards is so constituted that it is a law unto itself, in rules as in many more things connected with spectacular billiards. Let me dip into a little bit of history to emphasise that last remark. William Peall, Billy Mitchell, and Charles Dawson were probably the three greatest "spot-stroke" players that we had, with Peall, of course, the principal star. Each made enormous breaks by the now obsolete stroke, with pecuniary advantage to themselves.
But by-and-by the public tired of the comparative monotony of it all—a "red light" which caused all three players to practically abandon the stroke, notwithstanding the rules allowed of it being played. Again, John Roberts resolutely refused to have anything to do with the spot stroke for the same reason as ultimately led to its abandonment by Peall, Mitchell, and Dawson. Despite the fact that the leading professionals of the day of their own accord practically abandoned the use of the spot stroke, the Billiard Association stepped in and abolished it from the rules, thus depriving hundreds of thousands of amateurs of its practice.
The same might be said of the latter-day "cradle cannon," which came under the legislative pruning-knife long after the experts themselves had banned it from the leading billiard halls.
Another instance of professional players striking out on a line of their own with regard to rules was to be seen a few years ago, when they dropped the recognised code in toto and took on that drafted by the great amateur player Mr. R. H. Rimington-Wilson. Even when the " R. W. rules" (as they were designated) were merged in the code issued by the B.C.C., a few professionals played under a hybrid set when they varied the 25 ball-to-ball cannon rule, and in one or two instances agreed to unlimited misses where the rules stipulated for only one. It was all done, of course, to attract the billiard playing public, but nevertheless it proves conclusively that our billiard legislators have always been on the wrong tack in giving the professionals first consideration when they took up the pruning knife.
One cannot reasonably blame the professionals for sidetracking the official code of rules. They are in the game for a living, and it is imperative that they should make their games as attractive as possible. But all the same, their penchant for making rules to suit the circumstances of the moment is a most powerful argument against the legislative inclination to look through professional spectacles when tinkering with the fundamental laws and principles of the game. I have always maintained that our professional players are quite capable of looking after their own, and therefore the public, interest in all matters appertaining to the pastime. Moreover, they will continue to do so, despite the pandering of legislative bodies to their supposed requirements. Professional billiard players are as capable of paying homage to sentiment as any other class of public entertainers I know, but one cannot expect sentiment to take precedence over one's living.
As the "Billiard Times" aptly expresses it, "Billiards, like other games, should exist for recreation, which may either take the form of participating in a game or the enjoyment, of watching one, but it would be most unfortunate if the former did not greatly predominate."
I yield to no one in my appreciation of the value of professional games as a means of conveying instruction to amateur players and of providing an interesting entertainment for those who do not play as well as for those who do.
But, after all, these form but an infinitesimal number of the millions of games played on the board of green cloth in the course of a year. Why, then, should not the rules of the game be devised on the broad principle of studying the interests of the greatest number? If the game is to live, and not only to live but to increase its scope—wide as that undoubtedly is at the moment—is it not essential that all rules should primarily be made for the amateur? Emphatically yes.
Yet there are rumours that within the next few months the long-suffering amateur is to be deprived of the backbone of his game because, forsooth, two of our Australian cousins have so perfected the old-fashioned losing hazard off the red that the "all-round" exponent has not much chance against them under existing rules. Curiously enough—and it is to their distinct credit—the agitation for the restriction of the "Gray" stroke does not spring from our leading professionals. All of them freely and fully pay tribute to the marvellous skill of young George Gray and the dominating force of the red-ball stroke as played by him, but so far as I have heard none has demanded its abolition.
Restricted it is bound to be in due course, in spectacular billiards at any rate, but that, I opine, will only be when the public have signified in the usual manner that they have had enough of it. The exclusive red-ball game will, without doubt, become obsolete in professional circles by the same natural process as that which sounded the death-knell of the "spot, "cradle cannon," and other strokes. The paying public are the real arbiters of such matters, so why ruin the amateur's game for what is nothing more than a mere passing whim.
Abolish or restrict the "Gray" stroke, and the young Australian would probably (and rightly, because of the public patronage he commands) follow precedent by playing "outside" the rules. There is no burking the fact that the brilliant young Cornstalk cannot be bound to any cast iron set of rules any more than the older generation of billiard professionals. His big breaks would continue to dominate the situation, until, as I have said, the public became tired of them, and then—well, young George would have to do as other "specialists" have done before him.
Possibly it was the effect the "Gray stroke" might have on the championship that first of all agitated the minds of the would-be reformers. If so they need not lose any more sleep over the matter, for the security of the championship is not likely to be disturbed by the presence of George Gray, at least in the capacity of a competitor. Nor will Fred Lindrum, the Australian champion, who will arrive in London on Saturday, be among the entrants, so that Stevenson, Inman, Reece, and possibly Diggle, will have no "bogy" to scare them in March and April next. I have written "bogy," though I am not so sure it is the right word, because it is a debatable point whether Gray or even Lindrum, who is admittedly the better all-round player of the two, could "stretch" our leading players under existing championship conditions. Ivory balls are in the nature of a sealed book to both Australians at present.
While strenuously opposing any further tinkering with the rules of the game, and strongly advocating the restoration of those strokes already barred or restricted (save that foul stroke, the push), I am free to admit there is a great deal to be said in favour of special championship rules.
The essence of a championship contest at billiards, at any rate, is to see the honours go to the best all-round exponent for the time being. It would therefore be absolutely necessary, in the event of the rules of the game being framed in accordance with universal requirements, to guard the championship from the onslaughts of the "specialist."
We have seen how comparatively easy it is for a player to cultivate a special stroke, against which the man who plays the game as a whole and not in parts stands no earthly chance. Reece, for instance, would "walk off" with the championship if the cradle cannon was allowed full scope, just as Gray might do with his losing hazard if composition balls were in use, or if he cared to master the intricacies of the ivory, as he doubtless could do if he set about the task resolutely. That, however, would be a gross injustice to, say, Stevenson and Diggle, who are masters of the whole craft of billiards.
There should be no insuperable difficulties in the way of drafting a set of championship rules that would give the "specialist" and the "all-rounder" an equal chance of championship honours, providing the former had some skill in other phases of the game outside his speciality. At any rate, it would compel all players who desired to have a cut in for the championship to become proficient in all phases of the game, and discourage those who desired to wear the mantle by the cultivation of one particular stroke, to the neglect of the game as a whole.
Specialists serve a good purpose in exhibition or match play, as much for their educative as for their entertaining abilities, but here the public holds a powerful lever, and can scotch this or that stroke at will, while a player can always protect himself in the match-making. But in the championship things are different—the best all-round player in the world is at the mercy of the specialist. This is not quite as it should be. Personally, I should like to see championship rules and conditions framed that would give Australian, South African, and Indian entrants a good fighting chance with our own men, and there are many who agree that some step in this direction is only a matter of time.