Ronnie O'Sullivan continues to delight fans at the Crucible and those watching at home. Photo: PA/Martin Rickett
It's that time of year when you draw the curtains to block out the daylight, sit down on the sofa, turn on the TV and a few hours later find yourself still there, spellbound, bewildered, even slightly worried.
“You have permission to join us,” said Hazel Irwin, introducing one of the afternoon sessions of the BBC's World Snooker Championship coverage. And in these days of work from home, you can imagine the conversations that followed across the country between boss and employee.
“When you said you were working from home, you should have been, you know, working, not watching snooker,” says the boss.
“I know, but Hazel said it was okay “, comes the reply.
So, thanks to Irwin's words, day after day you find yourself mesmerized by banks, misses and, in the words of commentator John Virgo, “deep screws, downside, inch deep.” .
What's so remarkable about the BBC's snooker coverage is that in the 48 years since the world title was abolished at the Crucible Theater in Sheffield, little seems to have changed. Of course, the pall of smoke that once hung over the tables has cleared, the clear liquid the players drink during breaks is most often water rather than vodka, and the advertisements on the participants' vests are now written in Chinese script. However, the camera angles are still the same, the camera work is not finalized, and Ronnie O’Sullivan, as always, is the favorite.
Although it seems that snooker's seemingly unyielding landscape is about to crumble. The Crucible itself is no longer what it was. It is creaking at the seams, aging before our eyes; Behind the scenes, according to Iranian player Hossein Vafai, it stinks like a Thames drain. And it seems that the issue of the world champion title will not be decided for a long time in its vicinity.
We know this because Barry Hearn, the godfather of the game, told us. Speaking to Irvine in the atrium next to The Crucible, which doubles as the BBC's studio during reporting, he warned that he could not renew The Crucible's contract beyond 2027 – exactly 50 years since John Spencer won there first title – unless the venue is rebuilt. As a group of middle-aged snooker fans watched, Hearn said he wanted to continue working in Sheffield, that Sheffield wanted him to continue working there, but they would have to increase capacity to do so.
< p> “I'm tired of telling people that there are no tickets left,” he said of the venue, which seats only 903 fans.
Barry Hearn issued an ultimatum to the Crucible Theatre. Photo: Getty Images/George Wood
That means he's going to move it, he added. And we all know what that means: whether we like it or not, he's heading to Saudi Arabia. This has a small disadvantage: even if it were held in some modern hall with 25,000 seats, the sincere middle-aged snooker fans watching him perform would not be able to afford to be there.
“It’s all about the money,” he winked. As if in the case of Hearn we ever thought that it was about anything else.
However, for some, the move was not even in the thoughts. Shaun Murphy, the 2005 world champion who stood before the BBC between rounds with a handkerchief so brightly colored he demanded a standing ovation, rejected the idea that the tournament could be staged elsewhere.
“This is ours.” Dream theater,” he said.
Not that that's probably the best analogy. Like Old Trafford, another Theater of Dreams, The Crucible is a place that lives on its heritage, a place lost in its past. From time to time his shortcomings could be seen from television reports. From the cramped backstage area there were shots of journalists huddled in a closet, players forced to train, and Rishi Persad standing right in front of the training table presenting the evening's highlights on the BBC.
There's also the comical manner in which the playing field is split in half by a screen in the early stages of the tournament, which hampers competitors as they do a backspin with two guns. You could see it all through the first week: players line up for a critical hit, only to have their concentration broken when cheers erupt from those watching the game unfold on the other side of the board.
The screen separates two early matches of the World Snooker Championship at the Crucible. Photo: Getty Images/George Wood
Indeed, there was one angle when O'Sullivan destroyed Jackson Page in the first round, which showed that quite a number of those who actually managed to get one of Hearn's tickets ended up on the wrong side of the screen, while his and his greatest player any other generation recorded its breakthrough in the 1261st century. For them it was not the “Dream Theater”, but rather the “I Hope in God” Theater. I remembered to press the record button for the TV show.”
Remember, for those of us stuck at home on the couch, such problems were irrelevant. We have yet to see every moment, hear old champions like Steve Davis, Ken Doherty and Dennis Taylor extol the praises of perfect shots or, in the case of Stephen Hendry, take great joy in taking safe shots.
The truth is. that we TV viewers can continue to waste our April days, regardless of whether the championship is held in Sheffield, Shanghai or Saudi Arabia. Of course, provided that Hazel Irwin gives us her permission.
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