EVERY-DAY BILLIARDS
By A. H. Boyd
As a great deal of the instruction contained in this volume may be too scientific for the ordinary amateur, it has occurred to me that a few simple hints, from a moderate player, who has experienced, and is daily meeting, difficulties which possibly a brilliant performer hardly understands, may be of some assistance to those who, like himself, are fond of the game, appreciate its fascinating variety, and are honestly anxious to improve.
The correct method of playing almost every stroke that is likely to occur in a game has been so lucidly laid down in previous chapters, that my efforts will be limited to pointing out where moderate players are apt to go astray, and to dealing with a few salient points, in the hope that I may be able to show what to avoid, rather than what to do or how to do it.
By the moderate player I mean the average player as found in the average club billiard-room, a man who is capable of running up 20 or 30, and who has on certain happy days passed the Rubicon of 50.
I believe the use, and particularly the abuse, of the expression ‘power of cue’ has led to more slipshod play, and done more harm to young players, than anything else. In ninety-nine billiard-rooms out of a hundred a steady, unpretending player, who makes simple strokes with tolerable certainty and with fair strength, is considered a far inferior performer to the gentleman who plays every hazard with side on his ball, who delights in extravagant screw shots, but who is supremely indifferent to the subsequent career of the object ball. ‘Power of cue’ unfortunately, as understood by ordinary billiard-players, means want of command of cue. The mere power of imparting side, or making screws, though valuable enough in itself, falls very far short of ‘power of cue’ as rightly understood. The real meaning of the expression is the ability to combine the various elements, such as side, screw, follow, or stab with varying strengths, so as to convert a forcing shot into a soft screw, or a gentle stroke into a fast and fine shot, always with a view to improved position.
Without the power of control or combination, the power of imparting side may be and very frequently is positively harmful. An enormous number of young players with a certain amount of aptitude for the game become so enamoured of this showy gift that they insensibly drift into the habit of playing every stroke, however simple, with side, and become absolutely incapable of striking their ball in the centre, thus increasing their difficulties at the outset. It is comparatively easy to strike a ball in the centre as often as may be desired; it is next to impossible to strike it on the side in the same place a dozen times running. Hence, players who habitually use side constantly miss simple shots, because the amount of side they put on is continually and involuntarily varying.
The worst case I ever met was that of a man who had allowed the habit to grow upon him so far that he could only strike his ball on the right side. The natural consequence was that half the table was practically closed to him: he would not attempt a jenny into the left-hand top pocket, and his long losing hazards were of course very uncertain. Many others there are, however, who, even when playing from hand, evince a decided preference for playing to a particular side of the table, and it is evident that, although possibly they don’t realise it themselves, they have more command of one side than of the other. If this inclination is felt, it should be fought down at once by playing for the opposite side of the table; and a little resolute discipline of this kind will soon eradicate the fault.
Curiously enough, moderate players rarely use side for following hazards near a cushion, although a liberal use of it converts an extremely difficult stroke into a comparatively easy one. The explanation, I imagine, is, that when they began billiards, they were told to hit their ball high in order to follow, and it is of course a difficult operation to put side on a ball that is struck near the top. They, therefore, do not choose to increase the risk of a foul by aiming at the side of the top, and take some pains to strike their ball on or near the vertical centre line. Did they but know it, the same pains expended upon the same object, when playing ordinary losing hazards, would rapidly improve their game.
It is easily understood that from near a cushion a pocket is a very small target, and the margin of error in aim reaches the irreducible minimum. So that this follow is rightly considered by moderate players who play it in the way I have described as difficult, dangerous, and hardly worth attempting. If, however, there is plenty of reverse side on the ball, and it strikes anywhere on the shoulder of the pocket, it is sure to go in.
Another fault very commonly committed is, where there are two ways of playing a stroke, men take the way they fancy rather than the way which will pay them best. Nothing stands more in the way of improvement than this habit. Very likely games may be lost by trying for a little more, and spectators are often too severe on what they consider as want of proper caution. But let them say what they like. If a player is honestly anxious to improve, he can afford to let the particular game take care of itself, and even if he lose a dozen games running, patient practice will bring its reward in the end.
I do not wish to be misunderstood. I am not advocating ‘playing to the gallery,’ merely for the sake of bringing off a showy stroke, but playing out on purpose to try for position. There is, of course, a time for everything. In a match involving a stake, or when competing in a club handicap, a player should throw no chance away, and play carefully and cautiously, especially near the end of the game with the lead. But in an ordinary game he should play out and try whatever comes. Though many shillings may be thus lost, it is comforting to reflect that they are really the fees for learning, and they will ultimately prove to have been well spent. Nothing is more melancholy than to watch a couple of men who have devoted many hours daily for many years to their favourite game, poking about with safety misses, white winners and double baulks, and spinning out a game of 100 to a weary length. In all those years they have not added one stroke to their battery, and they will go on to the end of the chapter, unimproved and unimproving, confirmed cushion-crawlers.
Just as at whist, there is such a thing as playing to the score, so there is a time to be bold as well as a time to be cautious; and many a match has been lost by over-caution. I once saw a game in a club tournament, where one of the players was immeasurably superior to the other, and, although he had given his opponent a long start, he had caught him 100 from home. He then took it into his head that his proper tactics were to play for safety on every occasion. The result was what might have been expected. His antagonist took a clearer view of the situation, saw that the game was desperate, and played out every time after the other’s safety stroke. There were many occasions when the better player, if he had taken the least risk, would probably have run up a nice break, and possibly have finished the game; but he waited and waited, and his antagonist got home. Clearly, with 100 to be made and playing on level terms, his proper course would have been to play his usual game, when his superior skill must have brought him in an easy winner. A player must remember that it is not enough to hamper the enemy’s chances of scoring; he has got to make the points himself.
The four-handed game, which is a very popular institution with the cautious, is one of the very worst schools for a young player with any enterprise. He will be drilled into everlasting safety, and if he is at all ambitious of playing a good game, he should avoid it as he would the plague. On the other hand, he should never lose an opportunity of playing with better players; for, although at first he will find the rapid scoring of his opponent very disconcerting, still, in time, the feeling will wear off, and the necessity for doing better will of itself induce improved play.
The tactics of the over-cautious school lead one to consider the question of ‘leaves’ as generally understood. The hard-hitting, slap-dash player, after having sent all the balls flying in various directions, will often bitterly bewail his luck if nothing is left after what he considers a brilliant stroke; and amateurs are prone to look for this chance-leaving as a fairly earned reward of their skill. The less one looks for this sort of thing the better. A leave which has been carefully planned and successfully engineered is more meritorious than a dozen of such, and will, in the end, bring a more certain reward. Nothing is more mortifying to the player who is honestly trying to place the balls than to find, as he often will at first, that time after time he has just failed, perhaps by a few inches, to attain the desired position; while a hard-hitting, careless friend is merrily scoring all round the table after strokes which have apparently hopelessly scattered the balls. Curiously enough, a large share of this particularly exasperating form of luck falls to the lot of the careless. I once saw a man make 62 without a fluke as popularly so-called, and yet every leave was the result of accident rather than of design. This is what one must be prepared for, and suffer gladly. Don’t be cast down or disgusted if the adversary drives a ball anyhow to the baulk end and finds an easy losing hazard left. It is all the more annoying because one cannot call this sort of thing by its true name—viz. a fluke.
Another form of annoyance is the fluked safety, which will sometimes run almost through an afternoon. It is very hard to bear, especially when the adversary takes spurious credit for playing a wonderfully safe game. If under these trying circumstances the temper can be kept, things will not only right themselves eventually, but a reputation for good-nature and saintliness may be earned.
That these things worry is not wholly discouraging. Unless one is absolutely indifferent to the game they must be felt, and the keener one is the more must their injustice be resented. But, after all, they teach patience and coolness—two very valuable allies—which have many a time pulled a game out of the fire, after it has seemed utterly and irretrievably lost.
Careful students of Chapter V. will have realised that perhaps the most important thing for the learner to devote his attention to is the winning hazard; but that stroke, at once the most difficult and the most important at billiards, is sadly neglected by the vast bulk of amateurs. Seldom, or never, is a break of over 40 made which does not involve a winning hazard, which must be accomplished in order to continue the break. All strokes are largely a matter of confidence, and this is especially true of the winning hazard. Unless it is played with the confidence which practice alone can give, the stroke seldom succeeds. Here pool comes in as an excellent training school. It is wearisome drudgery practising these strokes simply; but in the friendly rivalry of pool, with the added zest of a prospective sixpence, the winning hazard becomes quite attractive.
In a long spot-barred break a spectator, if his attention has never been directed to this point before, will be astonished at the number of times the red is holed, and, of course, the immense possibilities of the ‘all-in’ game are obvious to everyone. It is the spot practice, and nothing else, which has given the leading players their complete mastery over winning hazards; and though it is the fashion nowadays for even the most moderate players to declare ‘the spot’ tiresome to watch and not worth their attention, yet a little quiet spot practice will not be thrown away. Although the learner may not attain sufficient proficiency to justify him in going for the spot in an important game, still he will pick up almost unconsciously a notion of the right place to strike the object ball for a winning hazard, and, in addition, one or two little wrinkles as to ‘touch’ and ‘strength’ which will stand him in good stead in other parts of the table.
Another great point in winning hazard practice is that it directs the learner’s attention, forcibly and practically, to the dangers and disadvantages of misapplied side. In the first place, the hazard itself is rendered more difficult, and repeated failures will compel a learner to take pains to strike his own ball in the centre. And, in the second place, the run of ball 1, after impact with ball 2, will be checked or accelerated, as the case may be, to an extent which may lead to disaster. Young pool players, when playing from baulk on a ball at the top of the table with their player in hand, frequently experience the mortification of seeing their ball, after an unsuccessful shot, come back into baulk a helpless prey to the next player. It may very well be that they have not put too much force into their stroke, but they have probably struck it off the centre. In this, one of the commonest of pool strokes, it is of the last importance to avoid putting on side.
It is worth remembering, too, that it is not necessary, as so many amateurs appear to think, to make all winning hazards at forcing strength. As a matter of fact, the pocket is considerably larger for a stroke played at drop strength, although of course it requires some nerve to play the hazard in that fashion.
Losing hazards have been so exhaustively dealt with in Chapter V. that nothing need be said here concerning them; but there are two faults very commonly committed by amateurs which are fatal to accurate hazard striking, and the first of these is pointing the cue at one part of ball 1 and striking another. Some men habitually aim with the cue-tip pointing over the top of their ball, others again with the tip almost touching the cloth, no matter whether the stroke they intend to play be a follow or a screw, a centre stroke or a stroke with side. Those who are familiar with golf are well aware that in those places where grounding the club behind the ball is not allowed it is exceedingly difficult to hit the ball cleanly and truly, because there is nothing to guide the aim. Similarly, at billiards, if the cue be aimed exactly at the point on the ball that it is intended to strike, the stroke is more likely to be accurately delivered than if it be pointing at some other spot or be brought down or up, to the left or to the right, at the last moment. It is a rare occurrence to find a moderate player who aims as he should aim.
The second fault is the widespread belief among inexperienced players, that in order to impart the maximum amount of side to a ball the cue should move in a horizontal curve—that is to say, that believers in this strange theory (and they are legion), when they are attempting a stroke involving, say, right side, sweep the point of their cue to the right as they deliver the stroke. Students of Chapters III. to VI. will readily see that the theory is absolutely fallacious, and fully understand that, the straighter the cue is pointing along the path of ball 1 or parallel to it, the more power it has over the ball. But, as the theory is firmly maintained, it may be worth while to draw attention to it in order to emphasise the instructions contained in Chapter III.
In most billiard-rooms the balls receive somewhat severe treatment, and of necessity are constantly travelling to the makers to be adjusted or turned down. Therefore, it often happens that they are smaller and lighter than they should be. Now, such balls are more easily sent flying up and down the table, and they are not quite so liable to catch in the jaws of a pocket and stop outside as full-sized ones. Hence they are popular with free hitters; but in other ways they are very objectionable. Being light, they are more liable to turn aside over any slight obstruction on the table; and, as they start away after contact faster than heavy balls, it is a difficult matter to play quietly with them and keep the balls together. It may be that at first, with heavy full-sized balls, the breaks are neither so many nor so long; but perseverance will result in more command over the heavy balls than was possible with the light ones. The very fact that continual slogging with heavy balls is arduous work, and distinctly damaging to the top of the cue, will of itself induce a quieter style of play and more thought for the hereafter.
Simple as it may seem, very few men know how to practise. It is a common experience to walk into a billiard-room and find a player idly knocking the balls about—now a losing hazard, now a cannon, all too rarely a winning hazard, with no method, and with no attention to the run of the balls. Nothing is really more useless. To practise properly, one should have a distinct idea of what is wanted and how to set about getting it. Chapter VIII. clearly shows the great merit of the spot stroke as a means of practice. The combination of strength and accuracy is most important training. One or other position will probably prove more difficult than the rest. Practise that particular stroke till it is mastered—i.e. till not only is the hazard made, but position is obtained for the next stroke.
Many, of course, there must be who have not got the time or the patience for such practice as this, and to them I offer an alternative. Spot the red, put the white on the middle spot (the position after the balls have touched), play from the Ｄ, and see what the break will run to. At the outset the white long loser is an admirable practice stroke, for it must be played freely, and its successful manipulation will engender a feeling of confidence in long losers which will be worth a great deal. There are some players who find when they make this hazard that the object ball runs perilously near to the middle pocket; others find with their normal stroke that the ball usually strikes the side cushion about a foot or eighteen inches above the middle. Players of the former class generally gain position off two cushions; players of the latter class off three; but in each case the object is to leave a cannon up the table on to the red on the spot.
Long losers from baulk are most excellent practice, and would be more popular were it not for the nuisance of having to go and fetch the ball from the other end of the table every time. The new tramway arrangement, patented by Messrs. Orme & Co., whereby the ball returns automatically from the top pockets to the bottom of the table, does away with this drawback, and is therefore a distinct advantage where there is no marker.
There is an exercise, invented I believe by a weather-bound golfer, in which the red is spotted on the centre spot, and the player starts from the Ｄ and tries to hole the red in all the pockets in turn in as few strokes as possible. The red is re-spotted on the centre spot every time it is holed, and the player plays on each occasion from where his ball has run to. This game is really excellent practice, for it involves accurate winning hazard striking, combined with delicate strength and a knowledge of angles. I believe that 20 is considered what golfers would call the ‘bogey’ score; but I fancy it is placed a little too high, and I think 16 would be nearer the mark. As the learner improves he can lower the bogey to suit himself. To sum up, the whole art of successful amateur billiard-playing is almost all contained in the accurate delivery of the cue, division of the object ball being a comparatively simple matter.
Preparing to play behind the back: the wrong way
Chapters III., IV., V., and the valuable memorandum contributed by Mr. Pontifex, should be carefully studied. The learner will find that if he once masters cue delivery many other things will be added unto him. He will discover that it is just as easy to screw to any angle, when the balls are close together, by playing softly as by hitting hard, and will learn the valuable fact that screw and side are easier to apply softly, because with a gentle stroke he can make more certain of striking where he intends, and thus he will have found out the whole secret of screw. It is the spin on ball 1 which causes it to spring off square, and the force of impact has comparatively little to do with altering the angle of deviation.
And yet I fear that no printed instruction will teach everything in the way of making strokes, because the sense of touch enters so largely into the question of execution. A good player with a cue in his hand can show more in an hour than the best book will in a month; but the former is not always attainable, whilst the latter may be the student’s constant companion. Hence it will be seen how advantageous it is to play as much as possible with better players, and also to practise carefully the strokes recommended in a sound manual.
By all who are interested in the higher aspects of the game the following memoranda by Mr. R. H. R. Rimington-Wilson on breaks generally, and on top-of-the-table play specially, will be welcomed. He brings to the subject great experience, gathered from every available source, and to masterly execution adds soundness and accuracy of judgment, which give peculiar value to his remarks.