Shaun Murphy boasts a stunning sporting hat-trick. Photo: Anthony Yates
As the winner of each of snooker's three major tournaments, Shaun Murphy is part of the most illustrious 11-man club in his chosen profession. But there is another group of which he claims to be only the most exclusive group in all of sport.
Maximum 147 breaks in snooker. “Tee-in-one” in golf. And the precise throw of a perfect nine-dart leg.
Each of them requires the mastery of a completely different visual-motor analysis, and while we know a lot about Murphy's eight 147 competitions on the snooker table, it is the mastery of golf and especially darts that is most likely to set the jaw moving south.
The announcement also drew some skepticism when it aired earlier this year. Darts professional Joe Cullen even accused Murphy of lying by posting a Pinocchio emoji on social media, but Murphy was unfazed. And he is happy to provide supporting details.
He said one hole occurred on the par-three seventh at the Royal Worlington and Newmarket Club, and the nine-dart game occurred at the Carter's Arms in Sale, where he used a set of darts that was given to him by none other than Phil Taylor during the filming of A Question of Sports.
“I'm not a very good darts player, but there was a period in my life in 2009 and 2010 when I was spending too much time in the pub and not playing enough snooker,” Murphy explains. “It would be practice, throwing lines and three, four, five nights a week in the pub. I reached a decent level. I was throwing one or two 180s a night. The darts that Phil Taylor gave me were kept behind the counter, passed around, and then one random game… nine perfect darts.
“Jealousy is a terrible thing”
“It happened once and I don’t think it will ever happen again. I have yet to meet anyone who has done all three. If people want to join the club, applications are open. This is a debate that is raging on social media. You wouldn't believe how many people don't believe me. Jealousy is a terrible thing.”
Murphy is a man full of surprises. It is also revealed that the nickname “The Wizard” is not due to his magic on the snooker table, but because yes, he can indeed perform magic tricks. And he is genuinely puzzled by being perceived as the product of a more gentrified snooker brigade – perhaps a modern-day Joe Davis or Ray Reardon – rather than the working class Alex Higgins, Jimmy White or Ronnie O'Sullivan.< /p>
“I think because my father didn't do time, there's a bit of a misconception that I come from a silver spoon,” he says. “This is very far from the truth. I meet people all the time who say, “God, we thought you were really arrogant, but you're not.”
“I left school at 13.”
“I had quite a turbulent upbringing – a very contentious family. My parents lost everything in the financial crisis of the late eighties, and we were close to being homeless. We ended up renting a very small house in Irthlingborough. We made a living selling car trunks and antiques fairs. Any money I won at junior or pro tournaments was used for food and rent.
“I left school at 13 and then played full time, nine or ten hours a day. I had no qualifications and became a professional at 15 years old. If it hadn't worked, and it almost hasn't worked several times, I have no idea where I would be.”
Murphy's parents separated when he was just 14, and he still regrets not speaking to his mother for several years. Leaving school at such a young age was because he was a victim of bullies. It got to the point where, aware of the abuse, his geography teacher took him home and gave his parents the following message: “If you take my advice, you will never send Sean back to this school.”
Murphy thinks he was too young to truly understand the meaning of such a harrowing experience, but he knows snooker – and the clubs he frequented – became much more than just a place to learn to my craft.
“Snooker was my refuge”< p>“It was my refuge, my safe haven,” he says. “If I wasn't playing snooker, I was watching it. If I wasn't watching it, I was daydreaming about it, drawing or playing some old videos. I was obsessed.”
Those dreams literally extended to scoring a brilliant red, much like the one he sank to become world champion in 2005. He believes that's why he had no nerves when the present moment arrived, when he was just 22 years old and a 150-1 underdog at the last embassy-sponsored world championship.
Murphy became world champion at the age of 22 in 2005. Photo: Gareth Copley/PA
“It was one of the calmest shots I've ever done because I've done it thousands and thousands of times in my head,” he says, before laughing: “But don't worry. To others, I was absolutely shit.”
An equally treasured memory is his first visit to Sheffield's Crucible Theater at the age of nine in 1992, when he saw his hero Steve. Davis. They now work together as BBC pundits and, as he does every year, Murphy will take time between sessions over the next two weeks to just sit silently alone in the same spot at the back of the arena.
However, there were also jarring moments on the path from prodigy to world champion when Murphy was confronted with his complete lack of any Plan B. “Not a lot of people know this story,” he says, “but I remember sitting in my old sponsored Ford Fiesta.” on Blackpool's Golden Mile seafront with fish and chips fogging up the car windows and my old road manager telling me that if I don't win my next 10 matches my next call will be to the Jobcentre. We've run out of money… and it's time to face reality.”
Murphy did win his next 10 matches and made his Crucible debut in 2002 against Stephen Hendry, then snooker's greatest legend. He also almost quit the tournament just weeks before winning the 2005 title as a virtually unknown qualifier, but having already paid the entry fee, made the fateful decision to play. Now 41, Murphy has been consistently ranked in the top eight in snooker for two decades and has reached three more World Championship finals.
He also enjoys his job at the BBC, and while Hendry remains perplexed that any current player would consider putting their energy into anything other than winning, Murphy's view is very different.
Reigning 2006 Ad Champion Murphy defeated his hero Steve Davis in the second round of the Crucible. Photo: Nigel Roddis/PA
“Working with such amazing professionals and being in the presence of Hazel [Irwin] when she says those lines is amazing,” he says. “Listening to Davis and Hendries perform and throw from all over the world has made me a better player. I pinch myself every time I walk in. I hang on every word the Virgos, Taylors and Parrots say. We won't have these guys forever. I'm still trying to perfect the game. Still studying. Still watching. Still fascinated. There were never two identical shots. I still like it.”
Murphy recently revisited the entire Crucible's 40th anniversary celebrations, and while leaving snooker's iconic home has never seemed more likely with millions pouring in from China and Saudi Arabia, he is already looking forward to his 50th anniversary in 2027. when his current contract with Sheffield City Council ends.
“If it had been the player's decision, he would have stayed at the Crucible forever.”
“I'm grateful that the decision [to stay at the Crucible] belongs to others,” says Murphy, who serves as a player director on the WPBSA board. “If it had been the player's decision, he would have stayed at the Crucible forever. Advertising, passion and love of sport don't always mix well, but the most commercially minded man I've ever met – Barry Hearn – kept the World Championship at the Crucible.
“The challenge is to treat this is like any other event, but it is practically impossible. This is a mystery that I haven't been able to solve. You are overcome with general excitement.
“You'll see that the 32 best players who ever lived have moments of brilliance and then complete, pathetic weakness to the point where when you ask them to say their name, they can't. I'm just grateful that my name is on the trophy. Being part of a small club is magical. In a world where you can buy literally everything, it’s not for sale.”
As our conversation draws to a close and Murphy reiterates the gratitude he has for snooker, I wonder if he is in touch with the people he grew up with in Irthlingborough during those very difficult formative years. Murphy pauses and then says that he actually went back last October for the funeral of a woman named Jillian who was his best friend.
“We had a core group from school and Jillian was the instigator of this. group,” he says. “It was very painful… incredibly sad. The upside was that it reunited us – all over forty, most with children and a few gray hairs. If there was anything positive to come out of a devastating, heartbreaking loss, it was a reunion.
“As soon as the wake at the local cricket club was over, we went to the local pub, the Oliver Twist. There were a few people who came up, a few knowing nods, a few apologies, a few handshakes, no hard feelings, and people said, “We're really glad you did so well, we've been following your career from a distance.”
“We were all children once. We've all said mean things at some point. You shouldn't be judged. Everyone deserves a second chance. It felt good to put a few of these demons to bed. This is life – this is the life cycle.”
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