BILLIARDS

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17864, 4 June 1926, Page 3

BILLIARDS

FAST AND PRESENT STYLES. BY RISO LEVI. Author of “Billiards: The Strokes of the Game” and “Billiards for the Million.” Copyright. Stj'les change in most things in the course of years, and billiards forms no exception to the general rule. Time was when players bent down but little to their stroke. One has only to look at the illustrations in any of the old books on billiards to note how verydifferent was the stance of tho great players of a few generations ago from that of present-day professionals. The plates in these books depict Kentfield, Dufton, John Roberts, senr., W. Cook, senr., Joseph Bennett, and others playing strokes with the body- nearly erect, and those of us who often saw John Roberts, jnr.—the greatest player of his day—will remember that he bent but little to his stroke. To-day every professional of note sights and plays his stroke with his head very low down. Indeed, Newman, Smith, Falkiner, and Inman, to mention only a few, get the chin right down to the cue. George Gray did the same, and Joe Davis actually gets his below it. Which is the best stance of body position? This is a question of habit. A player who stands well up to his stroke —and there are plenty of amateurs to-day who still do this, notwithstanding that this style has quite gone out in professional play—would find it extremely difficult to play a single shot with his chin right down to his cue, and the player who gets very low down to his stroke would experience great difficulty in sighting and playing strokes in a nearly erect position. There is no question, however, that the bulk of the present generation of amateurs have adopted the head-low down pose of present-day professionals. THE LENGTH OF THE BRIDGE. Another pronounced change from the style of bygone days is the length of the bridge. In practically all books on the game, if any mention is made of this question players are advised to make a bridge of nine or ten inches, and for the ordinary player this is, without doubt, the correct length. For all ordinary strokes too short a bridge cramps one’s play, and when the bridge is a very long one the cue is apt to slither a little from side to side, and this causes unsteadiness in the stroke. A player who makes a bridge of, say, nine inches, has only to try a long inoff from the D with a 15 inches bridge to find how uncertain this, to him, inordinately long bridge would make the shot. Yet more than one groat professional makes a bridge of 15 inches, and Smith’s frequently measures quite 16 inches. If notice is taken of the position of his left hand when Smith plays some top-poclcet in-off from, or close to, the centre of the D line, it will be found that instead of the tips of his fingers being inside the D semi-circle they are well behind it. Sitting at the side of the table opposite to the baulk enclosure, I have estimated that the distance of Smith’s middle finger from the deepest part of the semi-circle is often 2| to 3 inches. As the width of the semi-circle is lli inches, and the beginning of the bridge about 2i inches from the tip of the middle finger, this means a bridge of about 16 inches, when allowance is made for the inch or so that the cue ball overhangs the baulk line when it is placed exactly on it. Newman’s bridge is also an ex-

ceptionally long one, and if not quite the length of Smith’s it is barely an inch shorter. SMITH’S MANNERISM. Practically every player has a mannerism of some kind or another. Willie Smith’s is the manner in which he addresses the cue ball. Ninety-nine out of every 100, perhaps 999 out of every 1000 players place the cue quite close to the cue ball when taking aim, and players who move the cue backwards and forwards several times previous to delivering it, cause it to approach very near the ball each time it travels forward. Generally speaking a player gets to within a quarter of an inch of the cue ball whilst taking aim, or in the act of addressing it and many good cuemen get the cue within an eighth of an inch of the ball each time it approaches it. The professional who gets his cue closer to the ball than anyone I have ever seen is Cecil Harverson. Reece drew my attention to this peculiarity of the South African player many years ago. lie and Harverson were playing an exhibition match, and whilst his opponent was playing a sequence of in-offs Reece msde this remark to me; "Did you ever see a man get his cue so close to the ball without making a foul?” When my attention was thus drawn to Harverson's manner of addressing the cue ball, I was astonished to notice how very close to it he moved his cue. Harverson slides his cue very rapidly four or five times each way before delivering it at the ball, and so close to it did he bring it whilst I was taking particular notice of his action that each time the cue went forward it appeared to travel right up to the ball. Time after time the cite must have been within a 32nd of an inch of the ball. And yet although I often used to see Harverson play when he lived in England, I do not remember having once seen him make a foul whilst addressing his ball. HOW SMITH TAKES AIM. Smith goes to the other extreme. Instead of the point of his cue being near his ball when he is taking aim, as is the case with practically all other players whom I have seen at the table, it is inches from it. This is not a figure of speech, but is the literal truth, for, incredible as it may be to many players who have either never seen Smith play, or have taken no particular notice of his cueing whilst he has been engaged on a break, this great player seldom gets his cue within two inches of the ball when taking aim. Indeed, when playing ordinary from the D his cue is often quite 24 inches, and occasionally practically three inches from the ball previous to its going forward to strike it. Smith seldom moves liis cue more than once each way. As already stated, its point is inches away from the ball whilst aim is being taken, one or two tiny little movements are made, after which the cue is drawn well back and then delivered. Willie Smith was the first to use a brass ferrule on his cue. His brother professionals- at first held up to ridicule this innovation of his. It was, however, a case of “he laughs best who laughs last,” for during the next few years one professional adopted Smith’s idea—which, by the way, was not new, for ivory ferrules are as old as the hills —and to-day not only professionals, but very many amateurs, have a ferrule at the end of their cues to prevent the wood from splitting or wearing down.