Billiards

by William Broadfoot

As the tusk comes into the workshop, the upper part (which is hollow) and the hard point are sawn off, leaving the piece from A to B (fig. 25). This is generally sawn into five blocks, each of which will eventually become a ball; these blocks are roughed out and turned into approximately spherical shape and left for about a year to season, before they are touched again, in order that the inevitable shrinking of the grain may proceed naturally and slowly.

Now, the ball from end B is closer in the grain than the ball from end B, and therefore they will differ in weight; and as it is most important that the three balls should be of equal weight, no small trouble is experienced, after finishing, in finding three that will pass the test of the balance.[^[9]] If five sets can be got out of a hundred balls, the makers are satisfied, and even then perhaps only one set will be up to match standard.

When one considers the cost of ivory, the time and delicate work involved, and the scarcity of sufficiently skilled workmen, it is small wonder that a good set of balls is an expensive luxury.

Fig. 25

If balls are to last well, much care must be taken of them; but unhappily their ordinary treatment at a club is too severe for their delicate constitution. In many cases they are put upon the table as soon as they arrive from the makers, before they have had time to get acclimatised to the change of temperature, and, as full-sized balls are sure to seem heavy after balls that have been once or twice adjusted, the heaviest cues in the room are brought to bear upon them with literally crushing effect.

Now, as the turners have removed a little of the hard outer surface, the newly exposed surface ought to have time to harden; and, further, ivory is very susceptible to changes of temperature, sensitive to damp, and needs acclimatisation in its new home, to enable it to withstand the shock of collision without cracking. The leading players, when they get a really good set of balls, never think of playing a hard shot with them until many days, or even weeks, are gone by. Every day they take them out and gently tap them along with nursery cannons and quiet little strokes, until they are sufficiently seasoned to stand the shock of a long game; hence their balls last much longer than club balls.

Anyone who has served on the billiard committee of a London club may remember how his life has been made a burden to him by the never-ending complaints of members on the subject of balls. He might reasonably reply: ‘Gentlemen, the matter rests mainly with you; if you are determined to have good balls, you must make up your minds that they are to receive good treatment.’ But how that much-to-be-desired arrangement is to be ensured I confess I cannot say. The balls are common property, and must be as much at the service of those who know nothing and care less about the game (save as a means of whiling away an hour or two) as of the limited few to whom the difference between good and bad balls means a great deal.

Some clubs adopt the principle of paying a leading firm so much per annum (like a subscription to a lending library), upon the understanding that the firm is to change the balls as often as the club likes. This system is a bad one for makers and clubs alike. There is no inducement to the makers to send their best balls to be subjected to the severe ordeal of everyday club play. Rather do they prefer to keep such balls for customers who are able to take the greatest care of them; and it follows that makers, having from the nature of things only a few of the very best sets, cannot be blamed if they send more moderate articles to take their turn in the ‘lending library’ arrangement.

The following is, I think, a better system. Several sets of balls are bought in the rough to start with, with the date of their purchase marked on a label attached to each set. These balls are then hung in a net under the table and left undisturbed for one, two, or three years—the longer the better; they are then adjusted and hung up again; after another interval a set is again adjusted, made ready for play, and, finally, having been kept for, say, another fortnight or three weeks, is put upon the table. At the same time another set to take its place is bought in the rough, and, as every set in turn is brought into use, another rough set is purchased. By this means there are always eight or ten sets seasoning in the particular temperature for which they are required.