Williams says he doesn't feel nervous when he plays, no matter his level. Photo: Lorne Campbell. the most promising start. «I'm only doing this because World Snooker will fine me — trust me, if there hadn't been a fine, I would have left,» Mark Williams said, casually smiling at the expectation that the players would talk to the media before the game. for the first Crucible prize of £500,000.
Thirty minutes later, one of the biggest mysteries in British sport dictated her father's phone number and prompted me to learn more about the Welsh mining village of Cwm that had such an impact on their lives.
«Call my old man — he'll tell you everything» said Williams, who, while reluctant to answer repeated questions about his chances for a fourth world title, was much more preoccupied with the untold story of his extraordinary career. p>
“Growing up modestly – father was a miner – you see the hardships they have faced in the past, so appreciate what you have,” he said. “If I had not become a snooker player, I would have been a miner, like my father and his father. That's all over. No work on.
“He was the one who pretended I was going to school and took me to snooker. Mom thought I was in school. He was the main one who took me to junior tournaments. All that gas money. These were difficult times for the miners.”
“They said they would prosecute us.”
Dilwyn Williams later confirms this assessment, even if he didn't quite expect his son to reveal how the school helped lay the foundation for becoming one of snooker's greatest players.
«He shouldn't have told you that talk,” Dilvin says before going into details about their secret routine.
“I used to pick him up, say around 12 [day]. No one knew. Take him to the club in Bargoed. Leave it there all day. Then I would finish my shift in the pit around 10, half past 10 [pm], go pick it up and bring it home. Didn't say anything.
“He didn't like school. He wouldn't go anywhere. He didn't go to parties. He didn't drink or smoke. That's all he wanted to do.»
Williams (left) has always been happier at the snooker club than at school at youth. Photo: Dragon News Picture Agency
But how did the school react?
“They said they would hold us accountable because he went missing so much,” Dilvin says. “When they found out he was a snooker player – I think he was a Welsh champion by then – they just hung a picture of him in uniform on the wall and didn’t say anything else. He stuck to it. And it worked out.”
His son is now 48 years old and still ranked in the top eight in the world after a great professional career spanning over three decades, to put it mildly.
But Dilvin's unconventional upbringing didn't end there. He worked at the Cwm offshore mine from 1967 until it closed the month Mark turned 14 in 1989, but most importantly, he had already found time to take his young son on an unauthorized visit.
“We weren’t supposed to, but I took him to where I worked at the [coal] face — it was about three miles underground,” he says. “It was a working mine. The real thing. We went down in the cage, holding on to the side. Water, mud, a lot. I took it straight to the cutting machine. On hands and knees. He had to crawl. We turned off the lights and I said, «OK, now try to find me.»
“He couldn't. Had no idea. He didn't see anything. Showing him what a miner should do was the best thing I ever did. It was the last deep mine in South Wales to close.»
'If I don't succeed at snooker, I'm going here'
This is an experience Mark will never forget. “I made my way with these 10 or 15 men — I made my way down the middle — and went down the elevator,” he says now. «It was terrible. The battery pack with the lights on was almost as heavy as I was. Horrible. I was glad to get up again. But I said to myself, «If I don't succeed at snooker, I'll be doing it 12 hours a day.»
It was an experience that also seems to have shaped a sports mindset that, if he could bottle it, would have cost him billions of dollars. Because Williams is not only completely removed from the table, but also physically feels during the decisive frame at the Crucible no differently than in his Tredegar snooker club.
«Many players don't believe this — they think I'm lying — but what's the point of lying?» says Williams. “I just don’t get nervous or tremble. When I missed pink to win 18-15 against John Higgins [in the 2018 World Final], I just missed it. I went back to my chair and said, «What the fuck did I miss?» Sat down, thought, “No problem,” and in the next frame, a beautiful red popped up in the middle and made a winning break. I love to play snooker. I am competitive in everything. If I win, great. If I lose, shake hands and forget about it. It never bothered me.»
Williams: 'I'm just not nervous' ; Credit: Getty Images/Dan Eastiten
This seems like the perfect prospect, which is why you wonder if he ever received expert psychological advice?
“Never—and I’m not sure a psychologist would want to come here,” he says, pointing to his head. “After that, they might need a little help. It's just not for me. I can guarantee you that I will never do that.”
Williams then claims that he is not in the same class as Ronnie O'Sullivan or John Higgins, but they are all among the best. six major winners in snooker history, but celebrate their overall longevity. «I'm a little heavier, a little bald, but I'm still going crazy,» he says. Dilvin believes his son will still be competing at 70 and will never change. “You see him walking around the Cwm or Ebbw Vale and you don't think he's a professional snooker player,” he says. “He comes home, puts the car in the garage, puts on a tracksuit and goes to play golf.”
And while Mark says his dad «probably wouldn't tell me that,» Dilwyn's pride is evident. «Proud? Of course. Really proud. Fuck yeah. 100 percent. First from the Valley to make that name. Gorgeous.
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