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O'Sullivan warned in defeat By Clive Everton in York Published: 11 December 2005
Ronnie O'Sullivan suffered a shock 9-8 defeat by Mark King, the world No 20, on the first day of the Travis Perkins UK Championship at York and left himself liable to disciplinary action into the bargain.
Such an outcome looked unlikely when the world No 1 led 5-3 at lunch but he lost the first three frames of the evening, conceding the last of these when still arithmetically able to win the frame.
Alan Chamberlain, the referee, warned O'Sullivan that this contravened the tighter regulations in this regard that the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association have introduced, and spoke to him again after he had sat in the non-striker's chair with a towel over his head.
"When you see Ronnie do things like that, you know you've got under his skin," King said.
This behaviour, plus his refusal to attend the mandatory post-match press conference, renders O'Sullivan liable to disciplinary action.
O'Sullivan did level at 6-6 and again, from two down with three to play, at 8-8 but King amd a key break of 46 and was always in control of the decider.
Shaun Murphy, the world champion, led Nigel Bond 5-2 but trailed 7-6 before three strong frames carried him to a 9-7 victory.
Ronnie O'Sullivan suffered a shock 9-8 defeat by Mark King, the world No 20, on the first day of the Travis Perkins UK Championship at York and left himself liable to disciplinary action into the bargain.
Such an outcome looked unlikely when the world No 1 led 5-3 at lunch but he lost the first three frames of the evening, conceding the last of these when still arithmetically able to win the frame.
Alan Chamberlain, the referee, warned O'Sullivan that this contravened the tighter regulations in this regard that the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association have introduced, and spoke to him again after he had sat in the non-striker's chair with a towel over his head. "When you see Ronnie do things like that, you know you've got under his skin," King said.
This behaviour, plus his refusal to attend the mandatory post-match press conference, renders O'Sullivan liable to disciplinary action.
O'Sullivan did level at 6-6 and again, from two down with three to play, at 8-8 but King amd a key break of 46 and was always in control of the decider.
Shaun Murphy, the world champion, led Nigel Bond 5-2 but trailed 7-6 before three strong frames carried him to a 9-7 victory.
O'Sullivan faces censure for antagonistic frame of mind
Clive Everton in York Monday December 12, 2005 The Guardian
Ronnie O'Sullivan's frustration at a 9-8 defeat by Mark King on the first televised weekend of the UK Championship may lead to disciplinary action for offences ranging from ungentlemanly conduct to failure to attend the mandatory post-match press conference. O'Sullivan, limited to a 5-3 interval lead, fell 6-5 behind, bizarrely conceding the 11th frame when only 29 behind with 51 still on the table. As the pot that King had been left was not a certainty and the two other reds lay near cushions, this was self-destruction born of frustration.
The World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association has recently tightened up its code of discipline against a player conceding a frame that he is arithmetically still able to win without the aid of a snooker. After all, snooker's ticket buyers and viewers expect to see frames played to a proper conclusion. O'Sullivan was issued with a warning by the referee, Alan Chamberlain, but flirted with the possibility of forfeiting a frame for a second offence when he took to sitting in his chair with a white towel covering his head while his opponent was at the table. Chamberlain limited himself to a discreet word rather than the imposition of a frame forfeit. "When Ronnie starts doing things like that, you know you've got under his skin," King observed.
O'Sullivan equalised at 6-6 but King went two clear with three to play with breaks of 61 and 80. While O'Sullivan continued with his questionable use of the towel, he did not throw it in as he made breaks of 105 and 56 to level at 8-8. King, though, kept a cool head and with 46 as his key contribution was always in control of the decider as he secured his fourth win over O'Sullivan in six attempts.
In escaping a frame forfeit, O'Sullivan's case was in contrast with that of Michael Holt, who was docked a frame at 7-7 before going on to beat Ricky Walden 9-8. Holt's first offence, conceding the eighth frame prematurely, was followed by an expletive when he missed a shot at 7-7. The words "fucking hell" were heard by the 21-year-old referee Patricia Murphy.
It would have taken some nerve for Chamberlain to impose a frame penalty against O'Sullivan in a high-profile televised match. However, if a new disciplinary code has been enacted, it must be applied consistently to the mighty as well as the middle rank and the minnows.
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EVERGREEN DAVIS STUNS CHAMP
Steve Davis, with what he described as one of his best ever performances, knocked Stephen Maguire out of the Travis Perkins UK Championship in a thriller tonight (Tuesday). 13 Dec 2005 21:05:00
The snooker legend and six-times UK champion came from 8-6 down to triumph 9-8 and set up a quarter-final tie with Ken Doherty at the Barbican Centre. Davis, 48, has found new impetus in recent seasons and is up to No 6 in the latest rankings. But this superb victory over defending champion Maguire in a long-distance match must rank as his best result for years.
He won the opening frame today with a break of 90 to reduce his deficit to 5-4. Glasgow’s Maguire then pulled away with 84 and 111. He looked set to 8-4 up but broke down on 44 in frame 12 and Davis stole it with a 93 clearance.
The Essex man added the next but his chance seemed to have gone when he lost the 14th on the colours to go 8-6 down.
But runs of 31 and 42 got Davis back to 8-7 and levelled the tie with a fantastic 145 total clearance, equalling John Higgins' target for the £6,000 high break prize.
A poor break off from the Nugget gave Maguire the first chance of the decider, but he missed a mid-range red and Davis stepped in with a nerveless 78 to seal victory to the delight of his supporters in York.
"I didn’t expect him to play that well, but you don’t expect God to play that well!," admitted Maguire. "Good luck to him. I’d like to see him win it. He definitely can, he’s playing well enough.
"At 8-6 I potted a red into the middle, but then missed an easy black. That miss came back to haunt me. I was feeling fine and I felt like I was getting a bit of rhythm. My safety play has been the best part of my game, but he played very well.
"I’m determined not to let this defeat be a setback. I want to come back stronger for when I play again."
Davis now has the chance to become the oldest ever winning of a ranking event; Doug Mountjoy was 46 when he won this event in 1988. He said: "I’m looking forward to playing Ken. If I keep playing like that, I’ll have a good go at winning it!
"He played very well against John [Higgins] and he showed that he’s found some good form. He’s got a bit of pride back after a bad spell, so it should be a great match.
"That was a game of soldiers. I was never really that far behind, so it was a game of catch-up. That’s the best game I’ve been involved with for a very long time, if not ever, for a number of reasons.
"The standard is so much higher these days so it must rank among my best performances."
A NEW HUNTER ON THE SCENE Paul Hunter and wife Lindsey have extra reason to celebrate the festive period with the birth of a baby girl this morning. Evie Rose, the couple’s first child, was born at 5am on Boxing Day and weighed in at 8lb 2oz. The Hunters have now returned to their home near Leeds.
Three-times Masters champion Hunter is currently battling cancer and recently stated "My new baby will inspire me."
26 Dec 2005 13:50:00
Riba
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Отправлено: 28.12.05 06:07. Заголовок: Re:
27 December 2005 BABY GIRL IS CUE FOR CELEBRATION
SNOOKER star Paul Hunter and wife Lyndsey are celebrating after becoming parents.
The 27-year-old three-times Wembley Masters Champion has been battling cancer since April 2004.
And he's undergoing chemotherapy in a bid to beat the disease.
But the couple were finally given something to smile about yesterday as Lyndsey gave birth to a baby girl.
Their daughter, Evie Rose, weighed a healthy 8lb 2oz. A close friend said: "It's great news for them after what they've been through this year."
Hunter, of Leeds, played at the recent Travis Perkins UK Championship in York, beating Scotsman Jamie Burnett in his first win since starting his cancer treatment.
Alan McManus will relive memories of his epic 1994 Masters final against Stephen Hendry when they meet again at Wembley next week. 10 Jan 2006 11:40:00
The two Scots go head to head in snooker’s most prestigious invitation event on Tuesday, January 17 at 1.30pm. Hendry won the Masters on five consecutive occasions from 1989 to 1993 before his amazing run was ended by McManus a dozen years ago. The Glaswegian scored a 9-8 victory in a classic encounter. "It’s a long time ago but I still remember that match and I’m really looking forward to playing Stephen again next week. It’s always special playing the other Scots on the big stage," said world No 12 McManus. "He’s got back to the top of the provisional rankings which is a great achievement and he’s always difficult to play against. My practice is going well so it should be a great match. I’ve not had the best of starts to the season so I want to get going in the second half. "I love playing at Wembley, there’s always a good atmosphere and we tend to get good crowds. I enjoy playing on the televised tables, it brings the best out of me," added McManus, who last reached the semi-finals of the Masters in 2002. At 6pm on the same day, World Championship runner-up Matthew Stevens takes on Graeme Dott. It’s been a mixed start for the season for Welshman Stevens as he won the Northern Ireland Trophy and Pot Black Cup but suffered a first round exit in the Travis Perkins UK Championship. The 2000 Masters champion will be aiming to bounce back from that defeat but faces a tough battle against Dott. The Pocket Dynamo, runner-up at the Crucible in 2004, caused a surprise in the first round at Wembley last year when he knocked out Stephen Maguire. Tickets for both of these matches are still available. They are priced at £16 each or you can buy an all-day ticket for £22. The Masters features the world’s top 16 players, including defending champion Ronnie O’Sullivan, Grand Prix champion John Higgins, world champion Shaun Murphy and London favourites Jimmy White and Steve Davis.
shual007
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Отправлено: 13.01.06 21:26. Заголовок: Re:
Ronnie O'Sullivan reaffirmed his love for snooker at a pre-Masters press conference this morning. 13 Jan 2006 13:32:00 "I’ll never quit playing snooker, it’s what I love. It’s given me so much joy and I hope the way I play snooker has given others a lot of joy," said the Rocket.
The I Love Snooker t-shirt sported by the world No 1 will be available from the World Snooker merchandise stand during the Masters at Wembley Conference Centre next week.
Two-times world champion O’Sullivan begins the defence of his Masters crown on Monday afternoon against Joe Perry or Ian McCulloch.
"It’s one of our biggest tournaments and I would love to win it again," said the 30-year-old, who beat John Higgins 10-3 with an outstanding performance in last year’s final.
"It’s an elite tournament and Wembley is a great stage for the best players, I really enjoy the one-table set-up. Sometimes the atmosphere makes the players feel like we are gladiators, it makes your hair stand on end."
O’Sullivan has admitted in recent months that he has thought about taking a season away from snooker and has also considered heading to America to play in eight-ball pool tournaments.
"I will never swap snooker for pool," he added. "First and foremost I am a snooker player. Sometimes I get frustated and I say things on the spur of the moment.
"After I lost to Mark King in the (Travis Perkins) UK Championship I went home and didn’t want to do anything. But Jimmy White called me a couple of days later and convinced me to go to Ireland and play some exhibitions.
"Once I was there I loved it. The crowds were great and we were both playing great snooker and it was amazing, I loved that feeling. I get disappointed in myself when I can’t reproduce that.
"Sometimes the game feels ridiculously easy and when it’s not there I get frustrated. I remember recently making a 147 in practice and ripping the tip off my cue afterwards because I still wasn’t happy with how I was hitting the ball.
"The only was I would quit snooker is if I was forced out by better players, but I can’t see that happening for a long time. The younger players coming through are attacking and exciting and that keeps you on your toes. I’m sure I’ll be around for another 10 or 15 years."
Вставить ссылку не удалось , поэтому выкладываю интересную статью про Вайта: He may now be 43 and hardly a favourite to win this week's Masters, but Jimmy White remains the nation's favourite snooker player. Lionel Shriver meets the man whose failure has been as endearing as his success
Thursday January 19, 2006 The Guardian
At the first of four abortive appointments (each one rescheduled more apologetically than the last), I met snooker's world no 21 on Pall Mall in London. Within 60 seconds, a passing lorry driver had leaned out of his window and shouted, "Jimmeeee!" "That must happen to you a lot," I say. "Working-class hero," replies Jimmy. And it has to be "Jimmy". It's impossible to imagine this tousled, jaunty Jack-the-lad as Mr White. "I detect a note of sardonicism there," I say. No pick-up. For Jimmy White is a working-class hero, the real McCoy. If the role is ever a burden, part of the burden is never admitting as much. Having improbably maintained himself as one of the greats of the game for 25 years, Jimmy recognises that the only alternative to fame - obscurity - is fearfully easy to arrange. We finally have a proper conversation at the grand prix tournament in Preston. With the atmosphere of an urban comprehensive low down in the league tables, Preston's Guild Hall is one more drably contemporary, cheaply built snooker venue that, like the Crucible in Sheffield, sounds so much grander than it looks. Then again, the thin carpet, dull neon glare, and reek of cigarette smoke seem apt. Snooker was initially a gritty sport, born from hole-in-the-wall clubs in down-market neighbourhoods such as Tooting, where Jimmy grew up. I'm relieved I've worn the usual dirty black jeans and T-shirt, the better to match Jimmy's crumpled sweatshirt and roguish baseball cap; I'd have felt a fool in a dress. (In these back rooms reserved for players and their guests I will not spot a single other woman.)
My first question is the main question, really: Is he sick of constantly having it touted about that he has lost the world final six times?
"Not at all. I'm proud to get there six times. And I still believe I can win it. So the answer to that question is, I'm definitely not pissed off with it."
So for him that's a positive statistic? "Yeah, of course."
Now, this is typical Jimmy. If I had earned £5m over a lifetime of distinguishing myself at a fantastically difficult sport, I would get mightily pissed off with everyone intoning all the titles I hadn't won every time I played. But Jimmy Jimmy acts his part (working-class hero) with consummate professionalism.
By contrast, his good friend Ronnie O'Sullivan - whose fast, fluid attacking style and born-to-the-game genius make him Jimmy's most obvious heir - is often petulant. If O'Sullivan is ever to fully assume Jimmy's mantle, he will have to tear a few pages from his forerunner's playbook: Be grateful, ever emphasising your fabulous good fortune (asked once for three adjectives that described himself, Jimmy chose lucky, lucky and lucky). Remain warmly disposed towards fans and generous to your opponents. Take full personal responsibility for your losses - never blame the table, the baize, or the cue. Maintain a fiercely positive outlook, at least in public.
In private, there may well be another side to Jimmy White. Maybe he does get pissed off with having his nose rubbed in what he hasn't won. Maybe he does get impatient with fans dogging him in the street for autographs. (He claims to be "completely, like, enamelled to it"- meaning inured to, but the malapropism is sweet.) Maybe his confidence that he will one day take the game's top title sometimes evaporates. Maybe he gets irked by his bête noire, Stephen Hendry, a swot of whom the renowned carouser says, "He just wants to win. He doesn't want to do anything else but play and win." Yet if there's any enmity or disdain there, Jimmy is too much of a pro to express it. "Hendry's fine," he recites. "I've got a lot of respect for him." If Jimmy is ever sick of admirers or bleak about his prospects, he will never allow as much in an interview. Being a celebrity is a job, and part of that job is to present a cohesive mannequin of yourself to the madding crowd.
Irena
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Отправлено: 20.01.06 15:43. Заголовок: Re:
Продолжение: Jimmy is surely more famous, and more beloved of his fans, for not winning six world finals than he would have been had he won them. Hendry, the most accomplished break-builder in snooker history, has taken that trophy home not six but seven times. He does command regard, but nowhere near the same degree of adoration. Granted, Hendry's public persona - pleasant, courteous, but strangely blank - would likely not attract the same loyalty as Jimmy, but his flawless performances were exasperating too. He would go for such sustained periods of robotic perfection that he was boring to watch. You didn't feel concerned for him, worried if a ball would go in. It would go in, all right, but who cared? For what makes any sport compelling is the possibility of failure - even flukish failure, when victory seemed all but in the bag. Furthermore, perfection is alien. Most of us don't have the problem of being drearily perfect, especially under enormous pressure in the public eye. So when we watch a snooker player who just can't miss, we admire the man, but rarely identify with him.
Like O'Sullivan, Jimmy may be acknowledged as one of the great snooker naturals even if at 43 he has slipped once more out of the top 16. Still, you never completely relax watching the guy play. Jimmy is mortal. That is the secret of his popular success. (Introduced to her idol at a recent exhibition match, an elderly woman simply burst into tears and for several minutes could not stop crying.)
With Jimmy, you never know if suddenly the bottom will drop out. Even when he's on a roll, you can't be 100% sure that the next ball will go in, and the uncertainty injects a nervy tension that is electrifying. Away from the table, he has also worn his foibles on his sleeve, intensifying the appealing impression that the Whirlwind (who has admittedly slowed down to a steady breeze) is just like us. His weakness for drink is legendary and he has had to get it under control. Inebriated all-nighters were hampering his game. "About 10 years ago I started to realise I couldn't win and still do it. It takes me now two or three days to get over it, so I just don't do it. Maybe once a month I'll go out and have a few drinks, but nothing like I did before."
He has quit smoking - twice, of course - but has only had 12 fags in the past seven months. (Again, 12 is more endearing than none.) Trying to avoid the greasy, starchy food that is often all that is to be had in a profession whose work concludes at 11pm, he has dropped nearly a stone in weight.
As for those famous benders, likewise his nice-guy demeanour, one detects a dark side. Boisterous booze-ups always sound better in the telling, when the attendant violence, abuse and sloppy incoherence can be deftly re-rendered as cute. Researching his autobiography, Behind the White Ball (one of the best-written, most enjoyable of the snooker biographies), ghost-writer Rosemary Kingsland spent her entire advance in six weeks on well-oiled evenings with her subject and his cronies. She financed the following several months of liquid homework out of her own pocket.
Jimmy's running buddy, Kevin Kelly, submits that Behind the White Ball is sanitised, telling Jimmy's history with a level of veracity that makes it acceptable to fans. An unexpurgated version, says Kelly, "would be a best-seller", though it might not serve well the mythology that Jimmy was merely, as he says of himself, "a naughty boy!"
Irena
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Jimmy's other pernicious weakness has been gambling. He may have made a packet betting on himself, but dogs and horses have been less kind. Between drink, those uncooperative animals, and the, ah, largesse of divorce, the better part of his £5m has melted away. With flutters largely a vice of the past, Jimmy is confident that a property venture has secured his financial future. Nevertheless, it is hardly surprising that his attractive ex-wife, Maureen, finally had enough three years ago (in fact, it is truly surprising that she stuck him for 22 years).
Adhering to his crafted image as a gracious, unpretentious bloke who is just chuffed to keep playing a game he loves, Jimmy may edit his answers a tad. Yet he's no fraud. He reckons he may have about five more years on the circuit, and whether or not he had any choice in the matter he seems to have embraced the fans' obsession as his own: finally winning that world championship. When I ask if he isn't obliged to give the silver trophy back when the year is up, he says, "Allegedly." Allegedly? "I'd get it copied, and they'd never know it."
Will Jimmy ever win in Sheffield?"A lot of people don't," he says. "But I still believe I can. Once that sort of emotion goes, then I think it'll be time to stop playing."
He is putting in the practice and making a stab at clean living, so who is to say? Meanwhile, Jimmy White will be the best approximation we are likely to find of a proper working-class hero - the ultimate near-miss, an emblem not only of our triumphs but of our shortcomings, a stand-in for the millions who go to bed mumbling, "I coulda been a contender." One thing's for sure: if Jimmy ever does take that title, the Crucible will explode and no poncy ref in white gloves will be able to keep the roof on.
Simon Hattenstone Wednesday January 25, 2006 The Guardian
"Well?" Mum says, apropos of nothing. I love that tone in her voice. It can mean only one thing - Ronnie's won. The more upbeat the tone, the bigger the victory. The opposite to "well?" is a thoroughly miserable "oh well", followed by "it's only a game" or "he did well to get this far" or nothing. Nothing is the worst.
Mum and I have an intense relationship with Ronnie O'Sullivan. We take it personally when he loses, we feel let down when he says he's bored with the game, embarrassed when he wears a white flannel over his head and gives the camera the eyes, worried when he shaves his head lobotomy-style, relieved when he wears an I love snooker logo. It's exhausting, our thing with Ronnie.
It wasn't always like this. Actually it was Dad who loved the snooker. He used to sit there for hours on end, watching the balls go down, puffing away at fag after fag, burning hole after hole into the blanket over his knees. As for me, I couldn't be bothered. It seemed deadly dull - if playing snooker was a sign of a wasted youth, what was watching it?
Then I interviewed Ronnie in 2002 and fell for him - he was honest, depressive, compulsive, naive, vulnerable and had a mouth on him that couldn't help get him into trouble. A while after that I agreed to ghostwrite a book for him. One hot summer we sat in my garden talking through his life. Every few minutes we'd stop to try to beat our record at kick-ups (200 or so) or eat some more tuna (we were on a health binge), compare notes on serotonin boosts (anti-depressants or running) or watch football. I knew Ronnie had become family when he used to fall asleep in the lounge mid-conversation, snoring and dribbling on the beanbags while my younger daughter painted his face in lipstick.
That was four years ago. I don't see Ronnie often now. He's a hopeless friend, really - he only phones if you tell his mum that he's not been returning calls, then he rings out of the blue at 1am to tell you he's popping round tomorrow. Sometimes I tell him he's a tosser and I'm never going to ring him again.
But it's all talk. Because Mum and I have got it bad. We know that we'll forgive him pretty much whatever he does. Dad has more or less stopped watching - there's not much point now his sight's gone. But these days Mum is there for every shot.
She phones up midweek. "Well?" she says. Ronnie has just beaten Peter Psycho Ebdon. "D'you think Ronnie really had a stomach ache or just kept going to the loo to get his own back on Ebdon." Amazing - she knows so much about the game now. And she worries about Ronnie as if he was one of her own. Sometimes I think Ronnie means more to her than I do. Then I realise her concern for Ronnie is all about her concern for me.
He beats Stephen Lee 6-5 in the semi. "Well?" Mum says on Saturday morning, drained but exhilarated.
"Did you watch it?" I say.
"No, I couldn't. I thought I'd have a heart attack. I don't know how you bear it. Still he's done us proud, hasn't he?"
Sunday afternoon, I ring her to discuss the final .
"No, I'm not watching. Too stressful."
I tell her that Ronnie has just had amazing breaks of 139 and 138 in successive frames. "I know," she says.
"How come?"
"I keep checking on Teletext. I could do without this, though."
I tell Diane, my lady friend who has issues with sport but a soft spot for Ronnie, about his breaks. She says she's pleased for him but can't understand how sticking balls in holes makes for great sport - I look at her as if she's bonkers. Actually she seems to have defined the essence of most sport.
As it turns out the final between John Higgins and Ronnie shows exactly why it's great - thrilling safety play and bravura potting, culminating in an astonishing final frame. When Ronnie makes a sublime 60, commentator Clive Everton says it has been the greatest Masters final ever. Ronnie needs just one ball. Which he misses. Higgins had a crucial red. It rolls and rolls and stops just short of the middle pocket. That's it, says Clive, game over, the fat lady has sung - and then the ball falls in. Higgins clears up miraculously and, at just gone midnight, he punches the air once, twice, three times. He kisses his wife Denise and hugs his dad John Snr. Ronnie looks ashen.
I speak to Mum first thing Monday morning. "Ah well," she says.
Ronnie, if you are reading this give me a bell - or I'll tell your mum
А где же говорить "Спасибо" за такие хорошие материалы, если не здесь? ВСЕМ, кто заботится о рубрике - громадная благодарность...Это нужно, это не остаётся незамеченным...Ещё раз сэнкс!!! (Больше об этом не буду, но знайте, что я,к примеру, буду знакомиться со всеми материалами этой рубрики - сам такие ни за что не отыщу...).
Riba
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Отправлено: 02.02.06 10:58. Заголовок: Re:
Higgins is a Master Скан статьи из газеты The Sun, от 23 января сего года.. извиняюсь за размер и помятость.. в щимадане ехала газета
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