Forfeitures.—In a tournament, every game begins with the first one, in the sense of binding every player who has not previously been declared out. It has always been an unwritten law of billiards that a withdrawer, instead of canceling his games already played, forfeits those he has yet to play. The former procedure penalizes the faultless for another’s fault. It is also open to the objection that, in order to deprive one winner of his record for high average or high run, the loser of the game in which either was made may be induced to withdraw. Injustice is possible even without collusion. Within two years, cancellation has deprived one continuing player of his highest average, and another of the highest average of all.
For amateur tournaments, a few Western roomkeepers have a rule of their own, which cancels if the withdrawer has not played more than half his games, and forfeits if he has.
Guarding Against Forfeiture or Other Failure.—Until a scheduled game is started, the players of the next one in order should be on hand.
The Sanctity of Schedule.—A schedule once made out by due authority should be adhered to, instead of being changed to suit some individual caprice.
Opening Game.—Never let it be between the supposed best two players. For some special reason, one such may be utilized, but not two without inviting the almost certain penalty of a loss of public interest as the games draw near their close.
Rush the Losers.—As far as practicable, play losers first in preference to winners. If they are good losers, they will not object. In no other way can the anti-climax be prevented of having one or more games to play after the main prize has been won, or of requiring the leader to play when there is nothing for him to win.
Handicapping.—This, so often necessary, calls for a nice knowledge of the contestants. Fixed rules are impossible. That one man has a chance to sit long and think while the other plays, and perhaps not always plays with as much ability as effect, makes billiards pre-eminently the temperamental game. There must, therefore, be much guessing in the name of handicapping. Not a few conductors of tournaments shirk their office by happily inveigling their players into handicapping themselves.
One thing is to be cautioned against. As a rule, if the light-weighted, with their imposts, about fairly balance the middleweights, they are apt to prove too heavy for the heavyweights. To illustrate, A can give B 30 in 100, B give C 30, C give D 20, and D give E 20. A in practice can possibly give C the 60 required by theory, but he can little better give D 80 than he can, as theory requires, give E 100 in 100! Again, if there are many entries, those with a light impost possess a decided advantage in having so much more to learn than the others. The oftener they play, the relatively better.
If A can give B 12 in 100, B give C 15, and C give D 23, then A should give C 25 and D 44, and B give D 35. It is all merely a question of multiplication, division, addition and subtraction, without being simple enough to look easy in print.
The process multiplies together the odds A gives B and B gives C, as 12 × 15 = 180, which is to be divided by the number of points (100) constituting game. The quotient, which is nearer 2 points than 1, is to be reckoned as 2, and deducted from the 15 B gives C, leaving 13, which, added to the 12 given B by A, makes 25 to be given by A to C. By a similar process—multiplying together the 15 given by B to C and the 23 given by C to D (15 × 23 = 345), dividing by 100 and subtracting the 3 from the 38 (15 added to 23)—35 are what B should give D. What A is to give D is ascertained by multiplying together the 15 (less 2) and the 23 (13 × 23 = 389), which, divided by 100, shows that 4 are to be deducted from the added 13 and 23, leaving 32, which, added to the 12 A gives B, makes 44 to be given by A to D.