Ronnie O’Sullivan: The Rocket keeps outclassing the world of snooker.
Two weeks after Luke Littler stormed to public attention as the youngest ever finalist in the PDC World Darts Championship, Ronnie O’Sullivan became the oldest ever winner of the Masters.
There was much less fanfare for O’Sullivan’s feat – it was, after all, his 23rd Triple Crown title. For as long as anyone can remember he has been the favourite, or close to it, for every competition he enters.
As such, it is easy to forget that over thirty years ago he too stormed to public attention as the youngest ever winner of a Triple Crown title when he won the UK Championship as a fresh-faced 17-year-old. His hair was blacker, his unibrow stronger, his face puffier, his cheeks redder and his facial hair non-existent, but there’s no doubt it’s the same person.
it is easy to forget that over thirty years ago he too stormed to public attention as the youngest ever winner of a Triple Crown title
Comparing the images of O’Sullivan then and now, perhaps the most shocking aspect is just how similar he looks, despite a career almost unparalleled across sports. Tom Brady – widely considered the American Football GOAT partly due to his unparalleled longevity – played 23 seasons; Lebron James – whose durability has been unprecedented and helped him challenge Michael Jordan as the GOAT of basketball – is currently playing his 21st season; Ronnie O’Sullivan is playing his 32nd.
Admittedly, these are perhaps unfair comparisons due to the reduced physical demands expected of a snooker player compared to other sports. Consider then the careers of coaches and managers, whose less physically exerting roles are perhaps a better (if slightly dismissive to O’Sullivan) comparison: Alex Ferguson managed Manchester United for 26 years;
Bill Belichick led the New England Patriots for 24 seasons; Gregg Popovich has coached the San Antonio Spurs for 27 years. Quite simply, there is no other person on the field or in the dressing room who has displayed such consistent and lengthy domination.
Quite simply, there is no other person on the field or in the dressing room who has displayed such consistent and lengthy domination
But perhaps that is a simplification: physically he is certainly the same person, but mentally maybe not. In order to sustain such remarkable heights in performance, O’Sullivan has continually adapted and reinvented himself.
As a youngster, he played with reckless yet calculated abandon, epitomised by his 147 break in the first round of the 1997 World Championship, still the fastest ever in a time of only 5 minutes and eight seconds. To watch videos of it is to see a disturbingly flawless rendition of snooker brilliance, reducing an exacting and complex sport to basic and thoughtless mechanics.
Yet these were also turbulent times for O’Sullivan personally. In 1992, his father was imprisoned for murder before his mother was incarcerated for a year in 1996 for tax evasion. This left O’Sullivan to balance caring for his eight-year-old sister with his snooker career. As well as this, his relationship with snooker became complicated, leaving him to ‘finding solace in drink, wacky back, food’ by his own later admission.
This complex relationship with snooker continued, encompassing the good, the bad, and the ugly. How else can one describe asking the referee the prize for a maximum break on the first black and then actually producing one; deliberately potting the pink to achieve a 146 rather than a 147 in protest at the prize money; and conceding a best-of-17 UK Championship quarter-final clash at only 4:1 down, respectively?
In recent years, the instinct towards self-destruction and provocation have perhaps been toned down, if never actually eliminated. Since 2011, Steve Peters, his sports psychologist, has been a close confidant and helped O’Sullivan’s mentality, while running and cooking have also been acknowledged as positive influences on his mental state. Whether thanks to these factors or others, O’Sullivan’s game has certainly developed so that the whirlwind breaks of yesteryear are forgotten in favour of more defensive, tactical play.
O’Sullivan’s game has certainly developed so that the whirlwind breaks of yesteryear are forgotten in favour of more defensive, tactical play
But none of these factors, however narratively significant or interesting, change the obvious: O’Sullivan is simply the greatest snooker player to pick up a cue. It is hard to find another explanation for his ability to win the World Grand Prix days after admitting ‘I’m not enjoying my snooker … I find these tournaments and playing a bit of a struggle’.
As much as we would like to find a rational or scientific explanation for his dominance, something that would give us all hope that we too could become great in our respective fields- O’Sullivan makes these efforts a fool’s endeavour. On the baize, his worst day is better than anybody else’s best day and it is not any more complicated than that. If sport is reliant on its intrigue and unpredictability, can whatever O’Sullivan plays really be labelled a sport when he seems to contrive wins and records whenever he is in the mood?
Fascinating as the search for an explanation may be, perhaps our time would be better spent revering and marvelling at his talents, rather than questioning them. After all, none of the greats are around forever.
