Billiards

Before commencing the manual of instruction in billiards, it is desirable to address a few words of advice to the beginner, and to explain some of the technical terms used. Others will be described in future chapters.

It is clear that before playing, the room must be entered; and hence we commence with the mode of doing so. The operation seems so simple as to be too trivial for notice; but, far from that, there is nothing short of actual play which shows more clearly the difference between a well-trained, well-mannered player and a novice or a careless and discourteous visitor. The door of a room should always be approached quietly, for the table may be occupied; if it be so, wait for the stroke. When the stroke is played, open the door quietly, and walk straight to a seat. Avoid everything likely to distract the attention of the players from their game, and recollect that for the time being the room, its light, fire, and so forth, belong to them. Persons who smoke should wait for the stroke before scratching a match, and when extinguishing it should not do so by waving it before the eyes of the player. In short, ordinary courtesy is nowhere more important than in the billiard-room, for if men can play, their nerve and attention are strained; interruption may prove fatal to the chance of one of them, and is sure to be resented, even though it may pass without remark.

In the previous chapter the terms employed respecting the table and implements have been detailed; these are now supplemented by others in common use during play.

Angled.—A ball is angled in respect to that part of the table to which it cannot be directly played.

Ball.—In billiards three balls are used, white, spot-white, and red. The player’s or cue-ball will usually, in this volume, be called ball 1; the object ball, or ball played on, ball 2; and the third ball, ball 3. A line-ball is one resting on the baulk-line.

Baulk.—The space between the baulk-line and the bottom cushion. A ball within that space is in baulk; when a white and red ball are in baulk and the other is off the table, the situation is termed a double baulk.

Break.—The term is applied to a continuous score, or one made in unbroken succession.

To break the balls is to play as at the opening of a game.

Bridge.—The player’s hand which rests on the table, and which serves as a guide to the cue, is so-called.

Coup.—If a player fails to hit another ball, and by the same stroke causes his own ball to enter a pocket, he is said to have run a coup.

Cover.—A ball is said to be covered when it cannot be directly hit by player’s ball because of the interposition of another ball; in other words, when ball 1 cannot directly strike ball 2 because of ball 3, ball 2 is said to be covered by ball 3.

Foul.—A stroke made in contravention of the rules.

In hand.—When a player’s ball is off the table it is termed in hand.

Hazard.—When a player with his ball pockets another ball he is said to make a winning hazard; when he pockets his own ball after contact with another ball he makes a losing hazard.

Kiss.—Ball 2 is said to kiss when it comes a second time in contact with ball 1. The kiss is generally made off a cushion.

This term is used with much laxity in the language of billiards, and includes what the French call coups durs, when ball 2 is touching a cushion, and rencontres, when balls 1 and 3 meet, the former having been set in motion by the cue and the latter by the impact of ball 2. When ball 2 has an unforeseen collision with ball 3, and thereby prevents a cannon, the failure is attributed to robbery by a kiss.

Miss-cue.—Failure in the delivery of the cue on player’s ball; usually a slip from want of chalk or from defective striking.

Plant.—When two balls touch and an imaginary line through their centres if prolonged terminates in the centre of a pocket, a dead plant is said to be on. If the ball further from the pocket be played on and struck almost anywhere, the ball nearer the pocket will inevitably be planted or go into the pocket. The plant is still possible when the line through the centres falls slightly to the right or left of the pocket.

Strength is the measure of force used to make a stroke, which is said to be soft or hard according to the strength.

To string is to play from baulk to the top cushion so as to leave player’s ball near the baulk-line or bottom cushion as may be selected. Before a match the players string simultaneously for choice of balls, and for the option of commencing the game.

After these preliminaries, the first matter of importance is that players should try to acquire an easy attitude. For its attainment precise rules like those for military drill cannot be given, because what are suitable for a tall spare man are wholly impossible to one who is short and stout. Therefore, advice must be general. The learner should go to a proficient of about his own make, whose style is admitted to be good, and be shown the best attitudes to reach a ball placed in various parts of the table, first from baulk, and afterwards from other and more cramped positions. If this be neglected, he is apt to contract faulty habits, which become more difficult to abandon the longer they have been entertained.

In playing an ordinary stroke from baulk, a right-handed player should stand so that his body shall be on the left of the line of stroke, which is, in fact, the axis of the cue; the left foot should be advanced so that the toe shall be just below the cushion, and pointing in the direction of the stroke; the right foot retired more or less according to the stature of the player, and pointing at a right angle to the left foot. The right leg should be straight, the left more or less bent; the right hand should hold the cue near the butt, the elbow being nearly vertically above the hand, whilst the left hand should be extended in the line of stroke, so that the cue resting between the thumb and forefinger shall lie as nearly as possible horizontal. For a left-handed player the same advice holds good, save that throughout the word ‘left’ should be substituted for ‘right.’ For all players that attitude is best which is least stiff or constrained, and which combines the greatest measure of steadiness with freedom of action.

The formation of a good bridge is essential to accurate play. Its object is to supply a rest for the cue at the height of the stroke to be delivered, and this ordinarily is the centre of the ball. Just as for the right hand, which puts the cue in motion, freedom is the chief necessity, so for the left, which acts as the guide and support, stability is of the first importance. That is best attained by bringing some weight to bear on the base of the thumb, and consequently by somewhat raising the knuckle-joint of the little finger. As hands vary in shape and size, no precise rule or measurements for the formation of a bridge can be laid down. A competent instructor will show how a bridge is made, and an intelligent learner will soon acquire the habit of making one which suits himself. The general mode is to place the hand flat on the table, elevate the knuckles about two inches or rather more, keeping the fingers rigid or unbent, so as to form nearly a right angle with the palm, raise the thumb, and press it moderately just above the joint against the forefinger, forming with it the rest or point of support of the cue, spread the fingers slightly so as to widen the foundation, so to speak, of the bridge and increase its stability, and by means of raising or lowering the little finger, bring the point of support so that the cue shall lie level with the point of the ball to be struck. These directions, perhaps, seem complicated; but if the prescribed movements are gone through once or twice before the learner by a competent person, all difficulty will disappear. The final movement whereby the height of delivery of the cue is regulated, is one of much importance, which we do not recollect to have seen mentioned in previous manuals.

Exceptional rests or bridges have to be made to meet exceptional cases. Thus, when a ball is under a cushion, the tips of the fingers form the sole support; in other instances the thumb is lowered and the forefinger bent so as to form a ring or hook through which the cue is passed. The French call this bouclée.^[12] There are, in fact, many variations which it would be a waste of time and space to describe; some, indeed, have to be invented as the necessity for their use may arise.

The attitude and method of making a bridge having been acquired, the next point is to deliver the cue freely and horizontally. It should be lightly held near the butt and repose on the bridge, so that ordinarily from 9 to 12 inches project towards the ball. Considerable differences in the distances between the bridge and the ball occur during the variations in a game, but it is generally true that the nearer they are the greater the accuracy with which the ball can be struck, and the further (within reasonable limits) they are apart the greater the power. What is gained in power is, to some extent, lost in accuracy.

A little practice with the cue without a ball is useful to familiarise a beginner with the necessary action, that is the horizontal backward and forward motion; a slow withdrawal followed by a faster forward stroke. When this is attained practice with one ball should be commenced. It is of the highest importance; for by means of it alone can the rare qualification of a true delivery of cue be acquired. And this applies not merely to beginners, but to persons who are out of practice, for the commonest of all faults, and the secret of most failures to score, is that the player’s ball is not truly struck. It may seem strange, but it is nevertheless true, that many persons who play what is held to be a fair game cannot truly strike a ball.

Let us then suppose a ball placed on the spot on the centre of the baulk circle, and that the player has assumed a suitable attitude in order to play up the table over the billiard spot. The tip of his cue should be about half an inch from the centre of the ball, and the axis of the cue should be as nearly as possible parallel with the surface of the table, and in the same vertical plane as its central line, because the path travelled by a ball truly struck in the centre is, till after impact with a cushion or with another ball, invariably a prolongation of the axis of the cue. Having aimed carefully over the spot, he should draw the cue slowly back three or four inches and then bring it forward, giving the ball a smart tap, in contradistinction to a push, in the centre; the strength of the stroke to be such that the ball shall return into baulk. If ball, table, and stroke are true, the path travelled will lie precisely over all the spots in the central line; and after impact with the top cushion the ball will return to baulk by the same route. Herein is manifest the excellence of this stroke for practice; because if the ball be struck either right or left of the centre, it will return to the right or left of the central longitudinal line of the table. The nearer the return path is to that line the better the stroke, and the further it is from it the worse; so that an infallible measure of the truth or accuracy of hitting the ball is supplied by the result. It is impossible to overstate the value of this test, and by the time that a person can play this stroke up and down the table with varying strength and fair accuracy he has gone far towards mastering the first step at billiards. To secure striking the ball in the centre, as soon as aim is taken the player should fix his eyes on the ball and try to the best of his ability to deliver the cue truly and as horizontally as possible so that the tip does not see-saw up and down. The tap on the centre of the ball should be sharp and clean, the cue being permitted to follow it for a few inches; less when the stroke is soft, and more when it is hard.

It may probably appear in course of practice that the striker has a tendency to hit the ball either right or left of the centre; he should correct this by striking on what seems to him slightly the other side. Thus, if he, whilst aiming truly, brings the ball back to baulk invariably to the right of the central line, he should strike at what seems to him slightly to the left of its centre; if by doing so he brings the ball back over the spots, he may be assured that he has found the true centre of the ball, and by continuing the practice his eye will become educated, and the tendency to strike on the side will diminish or disappear. The stroke should be repeated till it is mastered at every possible strength, or, say, hard enough to cause the ball to travel four lengths of the table. When confidence in the power to strike a ball in the centre has been acquired, further practice should be made. Place the ball on one corner spot of the Ｄ, play to the centre of the top cushion immediately behind the spot, and the ball should return over the spot on the other corner. This, too, is very useful practice; it familiarises the eye with the general truth of the axiom that the angle of reflexion is equal to the angle of incidence; and variations from this stroke (which need not be defined here, as any person of ordinary intelligence can multiply them indefinitely) will prove of constant use when it is necessary to play at a ball protected by baulk.

For the sake of clearness, one other example may be cited.

Place the ball on the right corner of the Ｄ, measure a point on the top cushion an equal distance from the right side cushion, that point will be precisely opposite the right corner of the Ｄ; halve the distance between that point and the left top pocket, and at the half set up a mark—a piece of chalk laid on the cushion will do. If the ball be played correctly on to the place thus indicated, it will return to the left bottom pocket. Easier strokes of the same kind can be made across the table into any pocket, and confidence, which is an important factor in the game, is thus acquired. Before leaving the subject of these exercise strokes, it is desirable to emphasise the value to a beginner of acquiring a good style and of cultivating it incessantly till it becomes natural, and then he may, without harm, indulge occasionally in a game; if he begins with games he is certain to contract bad habits, which, becoming more confirmed the longer he plays, must result in increasing his difficulties and may never be wholly cured.

As regards indicating the strength to be used in playing various strokes, the best plan is to refer to the positions of the balls when they are at rest after a stroke; but as some rough guide may save beginners many trials, it has been usual to indicate by means of numbers the approximate strength to be used. Thus Strength No. 1 is a slow, or soft stroke; No. 2 harder, and so on till No. 5 or No. 6 may be taken as the greatest possible strength. Various measures have been adopted by different authorities; for our purposes in this book it is proposed to classify them thus:

Strength 1. From softest possible to that required for one length of the table.

Strength 2. From one length to two lengths of the table.

Strength 3. From two lengths to three lengths of the table.

Strength 4. From three lengths to four lengths of the table, beyond which it is probably unnecessary to go. These definitions may be further subdivided as desired: thus a very gentle stroke would be called a very slow or soft No. 1; a less slow one, medium No. 1; a stroke which required the strength to take a ball the length of the table, a full or free No. 1, which it is obvious reaches No. 2 strength; where No. 1 ends No. 2 begins, and so on.

It is clear that the practice prescribed will familiarise the beginner with the various strengths, a matter which he will find greatly to his advantage.

When the ball cannot be comfortably reached by hand an artificial bridge, known as the rest, is employed. A short man requires it frequently, a tall man less often, but both should practise with it assiduously. A competent person will show a beginner the proper way of using it in a very short time. The handle of the rest should be nearly in the same line as the cue, only so far out of it as to permit of free delivery; the cue should be lightly held between forefinger and thumb, knuckles up, the elbow being raised level with the butt. The hand which holds the rest should lie on the table.

These are general rules, but they must on occasion be modified. The practice already defined will serve for strokes with the rest if the ball be placed sufficiently far from the cushion. The half-butt and long-butt should also be used. Before leaving this subject it is well to say that to be obliged to use the rest, and, worse still, the half-butt and long-butt, is at any time a drawback. This can be reduced to a minimum by learning to play with either hand; a most useful accomplishment, by no means very difficult of attainment.

The following memorandum by Mr. Dudley D. Pontifex, who besides being a billiard-player of very high class is an expert at many other games, on the great importance of cultivating an almost mechanical accuracy in delivering the cue, and on the methods which he has followed in order to attain this end, will be read by proficients as well as beginners with both interest and profit. In essentials it agrees with the recommendations already given, and where it may seem to differ the variations are so small as not to require examination and explanation. Some interesting remarks on the styles of leading professional players will be found, and attention is justly directed to Roberts’s admirable delivery of the cue, which is said to appear to be harder or stronger than it really is; but one of the excellences of that great master’s strokes is that they are habitually struck harder than is usual with other professionals; the necessary compensations are, however, applied, and though the ball starts with considerably greater initial velocity than is usual, yet it does not necessarily travel farther or effect more. A heavy drag stroke played the length of the table by Roberts will travel nearly twice as fast as one struck by any other man, yet the object ball will often be found not to be harder hit.

The feat of screwing back to baulk from the red ball on the billiard spot, direct and without trick, is so remarkable that readers cannot fail to be much interested in a well-authenticated instance of the stroke. Besides Mr. Pontifex, William Seymour, (marker in 1895 at the Queen’s Club) was present at the time, and has seen the gentleman do the stroke on many other occasions.

MEMORANDUM

There is one characteristic which distinguishes games such as billiards and golf, and sharply divides them from others like cricket and tennis. While in the latter the stroke has to be made on a moving ball, in the former the ball is stationary. Instructions as to the method of making a stroke consequently vary in value in the two classes of games. The tiro at cricket or tennis is told to play a particular ball in a particular way, but is met with difficulties when he attempts to carry out the advice. The cricketer knows that he ought to play back or forward according to the length of the ball, but alas! too frequently is unable to decide until too late what the length of some particular ball is. At tennis it is much the same. The player knows well enough how the stroke should be made, but at the critical moment finds himself in such a position that it is utterly impossible to make a correct stroke. In these games the value of instructions is proportionable to the capacity of the player to adapt himself to the exigencies of the moment. It is quite different as regards billiards. Having once made up his mind as to the method to be adopted, there is absolutely nothing to prevent the player from carrying it into practical effect. He is not hurried for time. He is not called upon to make a sudden and, as it were, intuitive decision instantaneously. On the contrary, the table and balls are before him, and his opponent has to wait quietly until the turn is completed. Consequently the value of instructions, if there be any value in instructions, is relatively greatly enhanced in this class of game.

When one of our best professionals is playing, it is no uncommon thing to hear the remark made, ‘What beautiful strength!’ To my mind the excellence of a fine player’s game lies not so much in his strength as in his accuracy. Given accuracy, strength will follow; at all events there is no reason why it should not. But strength without accuracy is useless, and even worse than useless. If a good player and a bad one meet, the latter usually has the better of the leaves. The reason is not difficult to discover, for the good player fails far more frequently from want of accuracy than from bad strength, and the balls are left fairly placed for his opponent. The bad player has little accuracy and less strength. He goes for his stroke, and chances position. After a score he leaves himself little, but if he fail he leaves little for his opponent. His play is characterised by a series of disjointed efforts.

But, although the good player fails more often from want of accuracy than from bad strength, he does not, unless the balls are very close together, try for exact strength. To use a well-understood phrase, he tries to get them there or thereabouts. Take a very fine player, and let him play from baulk with the other two balls nicely placed in the middle of the table, and let him play two breaks with the balls so placed. It is almost certain that after the third stroke, probably the second, the breaks will branch out differently. The good player only tries to place the balls about where he means. If he be at all successful, he will have the choice of playing one of perhaps half a dozen different strokes. Not one of these half-dozen strokes is, it may be, difficult; and then he has to consider which will leave him the best break, and if there be three or more leaving an equally good game he takes the easiest. What is deserving of observation is that, whichever he selects, he usually makes the stroke and approximately carries out his idea.

It is this deadly accuracy which is so noticeable in the play of the best professionals. How have they obtained it? First and chiefly by years of constant and assiduous practice, secondly by a correct mechanical style. Nothing can take the place of the former. No amount of teaching will be the equivalent of strong individual effort extended over a length of time. The player who really excels at billiards must have given a large amount of time to it. He who plays a wonderful game, and yet hardly ever touches a cue, exists only in the imagination of the incompetent novelist. But, although nothing can compensate for hard practice, something may be done for the beginner by teaching him how to obtain a correct style. To avoid errors is the surest and quickest way to real progress, and to thoroughly grasp the idea of a true mechanical style is the most important lesson in billiards. There is no one style that can be said to be the only correct and proper one. If the best half-dozen players be watched, it will be seen that they all differ in various ways from one another. The position of their heads, and the way in which they hold the cue, are often entirely different. One thing, however, may be noted, that however much they differ from one another, they are true to themselves. Each man keeps rigidly to his own style. His position and his manner of delivering the stroke are constant so far as circumstances permit, and this is the lesson which the amateur may properly take to heart. Billiards is more of a mechanical game than anything else, and, because the mechanical part of it is so important, nothing can take the place of continual practice on right lines. And even that which may have been a defective style originally may, by becoming habitual, lose half its injuriousness. The beginner, however, wants to avoid defects so that he may have nothing subsequently to unlearn, and he wants to know the nearest road to the best game of which he is capable. When he has once got a clear idea of what a correct style is, he is next door to getting the thing itself. And it is worth some little trouble to get. For not only will his general progress at the game be more rapid, but he will find the utility of it at a critical moment. Some pernicious trick or mannerism may not be particularly injurious on ordinary occasions, but when the stress of a match comes it is apt to be fatal. It is then that the man with an easy and correct style finds half his work done for him, as it were.

It is by no means an uncommon thing to see what may be called the pump-handle style, where the cue, instead of moving horizontally or nearly so, is at the commencement of the stroke lifted high at the butt, and then brought forward with a circular sweep. This makes it a matter of no little skill in itself to hit the ball at all correctly, and yet we see players who apparently are not satisfied with the ordinary difficulties of billiards, but must add a quite superfluous one to every stroke.

Most of these eccentric players must be to some extent aware of their eccentricities, and a very little reflection would show that they are quite unnecessary and may be harmful.

Apart from any theoretical consideration of the matter, a casual observation of really good players proves that they do not indulge in these atrocities. In fact, our best players are, almost without exception, easy, graceful players, and distinctly the best break I ever saw North play was at the same time the quickest and least demonstrative of any I have seen made by that player. The play of John Roberts is almost above criticism, and his style is at once the delight and despair of all. Diggle, Dawson, and Richards, more especially the last, are charming players to watch. They who can remember Cook at his best will recall with delight a style that was in the opinion of many unrivalled. An imperturbable temper that nothing appeared to ruffle, a nerve that never seemed to fail, a touch always firm and crisp, yet often using a strength so delicate that he seemed to require instruments more accurate than the best manufacturers could supply—these were some of the features of a game that ever had a great fascination for the spectator.

A few words may not be out of place on the benefit of private practice, i.e. practice by oneself. I believe from a tolerably wide experience that they are exceptional, very exceptional, who can keep on improving without having had, at some time or other, a good deal of private practice. How many men there are who play their two or three hours every day, and yet at the end of fifteen years are little, if any, better! It is because their energies are being entirely absorbed by the immediate contest. If they have a fault in style, they have no time to correct it. They cannot make up their minds to court present defeat for a future gain. They play the same old game with the same bad result year in and year out. The least innovation on their stereotyped game will probably result in failure, and perhaps defeat, and is therefore rejected. After a time they come to accept their game as the best of which they are capable, and when they see really good play they admire it, but never appear to dream of taking a hint from it for their own improvement.

A short time given to private practice would do much for such a one. Here there is no opponent to distract, no dread of consequences. The greatest novelty, even to the playing of a losing hazard at dead slow strength the length of the table, may be attempted fearlessly. But this is not all. Not only may every kind of stroke be attempted without any attaching penalty, but if there be a fault of which the player is conscious he may now correct it. His attention is now concentrated upon the one point, and it is wonderful how soon that which has become habitual may be changed by steady determined suppression. Billiards again, at least to play one’s best game, is very much a question of confidence, and confidence is born of familiarity. He who has played a particular stroke in a particular way a hundred times successfully in private practice, not only feels that he can do that stroke in that way in a match, but that it is his best chance of doing the stroke at all. He is in a way compelled into the better class of game.

Probably no amateur is in the least likely to go through the years of continuous labour that the best professionals have given to the game. But in many instances he may, by giving some consideration to the matter and taking a little trouble, acquire a greater degree of accuracy than has hitherto been associated with his game. Accuracy in play means accuracy in striking, and the player has to aim at hitting ball after ball with the precision of a machine. Of course one seldom or never gets two strokes running exactly alike, but the various movements of the body which precede and accompany the delivery of the stroke may be and should be alike. This uniformity of style is the groundwork of accuracy, and it is by a recognition of the various movements and a careful observance of them that the player may obtain a correct mechanical style. He should once for all definitely decide what is the best style for him to adopt, and, having decided, should strictly observe it with unfailing regularity. It is absolutely fatal to keep chopping and changing in the endeavour to copy a better player. In all probability that which is copied has nothing to do with the excellence of the play. It is perhaps some little trick which is peculiar to the man, the result of his build or of his early billiard education. Most of us have known some friend who, after seeing John Roberts give one of his wonderful exhibitions of skill, has attempted to imitate his rapidity of play. The last state of that person is worse than his first. We cannot all play our best in the same way. Some men are naturally quick players, others lose whatever merit they may have in the attempt to hurry through their stroke. Usually, the better practice a man is in the quicker he plays, but, whether he play fast or slow, he should always play naturally and at the same pace. If he be playing badly, conscious hurrying over or dwelling on the stroke will not mend matters. The reason for the bad play must be sought elsewhere. Usually the internal machinery has in some way gone wrong. But the last thing a man cares to admit is any failing in himself. It is far more pleasant to attribute his ill success to something else. Still, if his style be not radically wrong, and if during one of these seasons of depression he attempts to vary it, his game will surely suffer when the causes which led to his temporary deterioration have passed away.

If I venture to give some advice, it is with a double motive; first, to illustrate my meaning how, by a careful attention to details, uniformity of style may be obtained, and, second, in the hope that it may in some respects be found useful by beginners. But before doing so I should like to say a few words as to what I conceive to be the real utility of advice. What is too often the case is this. The beginner tries to recollect before every stroke all he has learnt, and laboriously endeavours to reduce each and every rule into practice at the same time. Some of these rules may be the exact opposite of his previous method. The consequence is that this attempt at wholesale assimilation causes the player to look like a trussed-up fowl, uncomfortable to himself and unnatural to others. He should remember that that which is ungainly in style is usually wrong, always superfluous.

Rules may be good enough in themselves, but if there be a grave difference between them and our former method there will always be a difficulty about their immediate application. There is no authority for the opinion that the world was made in a day, and even at games time must be allowed to bring about the desired result. Too great insistence upon the observance of several rules at the same time distresses and discourages the player. But if he will get, more especially in the intervals of play, a clear mental recognition of the rules which he believes to be specially applicable to himself, he will find that they will presently begin to work out in practice. This is not only a more pleasant but a better way. Without any conscious effort, the player finds that the mind is beginning to direct and control the bodily movements. The result thus arrives in an apparently natural way, and when it so comes it comes to stay. That this is the best use to which advice can be put is an opinion derived from an experience more or less intimate with a variety of games.

No exact formula can be laid down with regard to position. This is precisely one of those cases in which some latitude must be allowed for a man’s make and shape. Two points, however, should be borne in mind. To state them in their natural order they are, first, that the player should always, so far as circumstances permit, assume the same relative position as between himself, his own ball, and the line of direction. A useful general rule is the following. When the player takes his position opposite his own ball with his left leg advanced as is the usual manner, the line of direction if prolonged backwards through the centre of his ball would pass through the centre of his body. As he settles to his stroke, the body naturally sways a little to the left, leaving the right arm free to swing in the proper direction. Secondly, the position should be a firm one. The advantage of this will be more particularly felt in any game in which nerves play a part. If there be any tendency to unsteadiness in the player’s position, it will then be emphasised. The body should be kept as motionless as possible, the feet being firmly placed and the right leg straight.

It is not easy to recognise the true natural angle^[13] under all its different phases, and the frequent failure of even the best players at long losing hazards shows this. Constant practice is the only teacher, and the plan of having for private play two strips of wood joined together at the proper angle—and which was, I believe, first introduced by Joseph Bennett—is very useful. The angle is more sharply defined, and therefore easier of recognition, if taken through some fixed point, and this point should be the centre of the player’s ball. The angle should be taken to the centre of the pocket.

It is almost a rarity to find a really good baulk-line player, and in some cases it is quite the weakest point in a man’s game. That this should be so seems strange, seeing that the player has such a wide range within which to place his own ball. It is, I think, often this very option of choice of position that causes the stroke to be missed. The player places his ball, perhaps, quite correctly for the first long loser he has, but misses it through hitting his own ball falsely. He does not attribute his failure to its proper cause, but thinks he has placed his own ball wrongly. Next time he puts it a little wider or narrower as the case may be, and if he happen to put on by accident the proper amount of side and does the stroke, he is almost worse off than ever, for the first time he does hit his own ball truly he comes to grief. By this time he has got an entirely wrong estimate of what the true natural angle is, and it may be a matter of several days before he can do the stroke with any certainty. Another point may be remarked. If the player use only his left eye in play, he should judge the angle only with his left eye; if he use both eyes, then judge with both eyes; but if he uses the right eye to take the angle and the left eye to play, when he settles to his stroke the angle will often appear wrong, and he will become confused as to what the correct natural angle really is. This probably arises from the fact that with most people the focus of the two eyes is not identical.

Whether the cue should be held only by the fingers, or in the hollow of the hand, may be matter of opinion, but there is no doubt it should be held lightly, not gripped. Any rigidity of the muscles tends to impair the easy pendulum swing so essential to accurate play. Some people seem to think it necessary to grip the cue when making a screw. The point is easily susceptible of practical demonstration if they will only condescend to hit the ball in the proper place.

With many players, again, the position of the left hand appears to be a matter of supreme indifference. They place it on the table anyhow, and almost without taking a glance at the stroke. Now it is all very well to say ‘Look at John Roberts. He doesn’t worry about these things,’ but we are not, most of us at least, of the calibre of John Roberts. His easy and graceful style is deceptive. If anyone will take the trouble to contrast the face of the man with his manner of play, it will be apparent how thoroughly concentrated is his mind on the game. He is the consummate artist who conceals the difficulty of the stroke under the ease of its execution. For most players, and all beginners, it is advisable to pay some little attention to the position of the left hand. Obviously it is of importance. If it has to be moved, however slightly, after the player has settled to his stroke, the result will be a loss of accuracy. It should be advanced with care, by which I do not mean with wearisome laboriousness, to the player’s ball, the eye being steadily kept on the line of direction, or, better still, on the exact spot on the object ball it is desired to hit.

The cue from tip to butt should be in one straight line with the line of direction. It may be thought that this is always the case, but a close observation will show that very frequently the cue along its length is by no means in a straight line with the point aimed at. I have found it most useful to bear this rule in mind, especially when beginning practice after a long absence from the billiard-table.

The player should not hurry up from the table after delivering his stroke. The fault indicated may easily become a habit, and a very bad one. It may be often observed among the more impatient class of players. It may cause the body to move at the very moment when it is most essential it should be quite steady, viz. at the moment of the cue’s contact with the ball.

A few more hints may be useful to some. Much of billiards is played before settling to the stroke. This may at first sight appear an absurd statement, but it contains an important truth. If the player have a clearly defined idea not only of what stroke he is going for, but how it is to be made, much of the difficulty is already overcome; but if he go down to his stroke, and then have an elaborate consultation with himself as to what is to be done, the process is not only harassing to his opponent but detrimental to himself. Once having decided on the stroke, he should go for it unhesitatingly, and as though no other stroke were possible. To play one game, at the same time having a lingering partiality for another, is not usually attended with success.

The height of the player and the length of his arms will to a considerable extent determine where he should hold the cue so that he may combine sufficient power with the greatest attainable accuracy. It must not, therefore, be held too far back. This may cause a slight loss of power, but that is of very small importance. The bad play so often seen in amateur billiards is not usually to be attributed to any want of power of execution.

I have never known a professional do a stroke which most amateurs could not copy, though I have known one instance of an amateur being able to do that which probably no professional living could do. The feat deserves to be recorded. The gentleman was an undergraduate at Cambridge, and it was said that he could from baulk screw back off the red on the spot into baulk again. One day I asked him to do it for my edification, and at the third attempt he succeeded. The balls used were two of the usual set with which we ordinarily played. He used his own cue, which was one of the usual pattern of English cues. The white came straight back without touching a cushion. There are many persons besides myself who have seen him do it, but I have never heard an authenticated case of any other person who could perform the feat.

On the face of it, it seems wrong that a man of six feet and one of five feet six inches should hold cues of the same length in the same place, and a slight consideration of the nature of a proper stroke will show very good reasons for not holding the cue too long. The stroke itself should be made by, as nearly as may be, a horizontal motion of the cue. Any depression of the cue-tip has a tendency to make the ball take a slight curve. There are strokes when it is desirable to sharply raise the butt for the very purpose of making one’s own ball describe a curve before contact with the object ball, and such strokes are sometimes very useful when the pocket is a narrow one. But as a general rule the movement of the cue should be as nearly horizontal as circumstances allow. Now, if the cue be held too long for thorough control over it, as the player’s hand goes back before delivering the stroke it will take an upward direction, and one of two things must take place when the stroke is made. If, during the forward movement, the cue work in a plane, it will be depressed at the moment of contact with the ball; but if at the moment of contact it be horizontal, or nearly so, it will have described a slightly circular movement. This is one of the things to be avoided, for the cue should work like a piston-rod.

The bridge should be a short bridge rather than a long one. What is meant by a short bridge is a short distance between the bridge itself and the player’s ball. Too long a bridge must necessarily diminish accuracy of hitting. The stroke itself should come from the arm alone, and as much as possible from the elbow, the movement of the shoulder being kept within the narrowest limits. However delicate, it should be a clean, crisp blow, avoiding the least suspicion of a push. In this respect it is exceedingly instructive to watch John Roberts play. He appears to strike the ball so hard, even in his close game, that one is at a loss to understand how it stops so quickly—the fact being that the ball is struck so firmly, and so clean, as to give the appearance of a harder stroke than in reality it is. It is a very unusual thing to see an amateur strike his ball crisply when using delicate strengths. Not only should the angle be judged, but aim should be taken through the centre of the player’s ball. This applies to every stroke not less than a half-ball. For all ordinary strokes—excepting, of course, screws, &c.—the ball should be struck, whether with side or without, exactly half-way up. The ball when so struck runs truer.

One last word of advice. It is—simplify your game. If you can take your choice of two games, one which looks promising but with possible complications, the other simple and obvious, choose the latter. Some two or three years ago Dawson was for this reason a most instructive player for the amateur. His game was so simple that he never appeared to be in a difficulty. He has somewhat changed its character since, but I question if he has ever played better than he did then. In this respect John Roberts is the last player the amateur should attempt to copy. His game is full of complications, but he gets rid of them with an ease and a celerity that fairly astonish the onlookers. He is out of a difficulty almost before one has recognised that there is one. Sometimes he seems to fairly revel in them, and deliberately to make them for the pleasure of getting out of them. It is certainly wonderfully attractive, but the percentage of men who could play such a game with success would be infinitesimal.

If this memorandum appear too didactic, I can only apologise to my readers. It must necessarily assume that character to some extent. But, in truth, the advice is not meant for good players. It may be that there are some fine players who have never consciously observed any rules, but have naturally adopted a correct style. They are facile players, but they know not the pleasure which comes from attacking and overcoming difficulties. There are others, quite as fond of the game, who find the road to even partial success a somewhat stony one. These hints, or some of them, may perhaps be of use to such. One thing is certain. Not even the most perfect rules or the most undeniable instructions can of themselves make a good player. They cannot take the place of hard work. All they can do is to help the beginner over some of the difficulties others have met with, and so save him time.