In cue-sports in general, there is a lot of talk, and text for that matter, denoting different styles, cue actions, and other small aspects of technique. Certain demi-household-name snooker players (I’m deliberately not mentioning Dave Harold. Oh… damn….) are derided for their lack of cue power, lack of textbook cue delivery, and other related perceived flaws. There are, however, myriad players, with completely unique (at least on a minute scale) cue actions, personal idiosyncrasies and various other preferences, whether natural or taught, so the question should at least be touched on; What IS good technique?

Furthermore, other related questions should be asked about the necessity (Does attempting to follow ‘textbook’ cueing practices really help every player out there?), variance (Why don’t all snooker players play good 8-ball or 9-ball pool? Is that a matter of technique?), and physiology which governs technique (does a player with one arm shorter than the other need to follow the same basic rules of stance, cueing, etc?), amongst others. There is almost a subject to be had out of what even constitutes the subject itself, and this is in part why so much can be written, by so many people, and with such varying advice.

Steve Davis was once interviewed about Frank Callan, the well reputed and much sought after snooker coach. In typical Davis style, there were no anecdotes regarding the man himself, or even any kind of celebration of Callan on a personal level. Davis would only state that which applied to the professional side of a man whom assisted in bringing an end to his own dominance of snooker (via possibly the most effective proxy possible, Stephen Hendry), and one of his more memorable quotes for me personally was, “Frank Callan is the only man I can talk to on my level about issues surrounding technique.” (I paraphrase, but in the mould of Spitting Image, it’s possible that I somehow aided in making the Davis quote more ‘interesting’).

Many casual players will have heard the comment, and will have given it very little notice. I personally would be more than happy to accept that there are aspects of Tiger Woods’ or Roger Federer’s respective style of performing to their best that I simply won’t understand. Sport is often a self-authorising language in that way, if you have earned the right to understand, then you will understand. As much as my enjoyment of tennis and golf as sports are concerned, I tend to prefer the company of a nice sofa and a cold beer, and preferably a picture without static. However, whenever I cogitate over the Davis quote, I always wonder as to the implications his statement has for me, as a reasonably serious cue-sports player.

Remember, Davis does not say that there are few people he can talk to about technique. Callan himself was not a player of any great note, and Davis apparently believes that the two of them are on matching pedestals; maybe of Neo-Roman design… maybe I push the image too far. Yet, I am concerned. Am I to believe that in my years of travelling around, playing all three major cue-sports (apologies to players of the three ball game) across Great Britain, attempting to attain the levels of brilliance and consistency I admire in many different players of all three codes, I have not noticed the existence of a Cueing Cognoscenti? What is it that Davis and Callan, and possibly other members of their secret Freemason-esque clique of whom even Davis is not aware, know that we don’t?

Essentially, technique is the ability to hit the cue-ball straight, to make sure that sighting is correct (there is no point hitting the ball straight if the straight line you are aiming along passes within a distance roughly equivalent to Jupiter’s circumference from the object ball), and to make the ball spin a certain way either before or after contact with the object ball. There are many inferred intricacies,  but taking into consideration my lack of desire to be upheld as the next Leo Tolstoy, I will refrain from writing “War and Peace II- A History of the Napoleonic Rules World Championships”, which would quite possibly still come up short when faced with such a task.

It does go without saying (although I’m going to say it anyway, as is the common habit of any author that uses that term), though, that different cue actions help with different games. An attempt to take on the 9-ball fraternity with a snooker cue action almost always ends up in a demoralising crash to earth, and it speaks volumes that the European Mosconi Cup team only seemed to be made up of snooker players while it was still at the “we need decent exposure and we’re not sure people will give any respect while they remain unsure as to whether this is a childish version of snooker” stage. The common belief now is that each game has both its own merits and requirements, and that being accomplished at one does not necessarily mean one will go on to work wonders at another.

Some people even believe the converse to be true. In a conversation I had years ago with Joe Perry, he extolled the virtues of the “negative transference” theory, which basically boils down to similar sports having detrimental effects on players when an attempt it made to combine. Basketball players can play cricket with no effect on their primary sport (although people should not let Michael Jordan in on this knowledge… Baseball didn’t work, Mike, stick to what you’re good at.) as the muscle memory involved in playing both is completely different. However, badminton and tennis can combine to make a player miss-time shots, even lose the flight of the shuttle/ball in the air.

Since the intrinsic timing of a cue-sports shot will always differ when switching codes (borne of necessity, due to the use of different equipment, including but not exclusive to varying size and weight of balls), different cue actions will also need to be employed in order to play the game to the very highest level. It may have been Davis’ belief in the sanctity of his pedestal that prevented his full acclimatization to competitive 9-ball, but there can be no doubt that, whatever his reasons, he steadfastly refused to adopt the loose grip/high elbow technique favoured by the chief exponents of the game. Even Ronnie O’Sullivan made a genuine attempt to change his body shape, and use his legs to increase the power of his break, in recent forays into the 9-ball scene.

So, in an ever-evolving cue sports world, where the diverse and the downright unorthodox are now commonplace. What is there now that Steve Davis knows that we don’t? What could Frank Callan, a man famed more for his coaching than his own prowess with a cue, tell the average player, or even the serious cue-sports player, that we don’t already know? Would the idea be to follow the textbooks more closely, and try to remove all the personal nuances from our games? Do the authors of the textbooks even know as much as Davis and Callan? Given that Davis has also said, “It sounds big-headed but Frank and I know so much more about the game than anyone else”, it would appear that he is secure in his belief that this is not the case.

So what is Davis hiding? What mysteries are there regarding the miniscule details of technique? Since sport is a self-authorizing language, maybe we all just don’t deserve to know yet.

Guest Author: 32.7MPH

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