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A snooker table is six feet by 12 — metric conversion would be treasonous — and the surface is a prairie of green designed to break your heart.
And if the game doesn’t, Ervin Budge will.
One night this week at the Orange Monkey, the city’s best-known snooker hangout, the winter-league championship was underway.
Budgie, as he’s usually called, was playing in the semi-finals, which he would not lose, then the finals, which he would not lose, though his opponent was given a 24-point head start as “handicap.” Yes, he’s that good.
He is 76 now, with a rubbery face, sad eyes and neatly combed hair. There is little debate he’s one of the finest snooker players the city has ever produced.
Ervin Budge, or Budgie of Newport Fame, playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
“I think I lost before I left the house,” said Dan Collins, 63, a semi-finalist who lost three straight to Budge. He is a good player, serious enough that’s he’s bought a pair of those odd-looking snooker eyeglasses and ordered a two-piece cue from England, at a cost of 170 British pounds.
“In snooker, you’re trying to out-think your opponent and Budge, of course, is outstanding at that.”
At the Monkey, the six snooker tables are lit with overhead fluorescent tubes, nine feet long, covered by dark shades with hanging tassels, so the light looks poured from an upside down box.
The effect is to create a stage of smooth wool, with an audience of men in the shadows, folded in chairs, or leaning on posts or drink rails, murmuring. There are no numbers on the balls, only colours, so to play the game is to memorize a code. Sink a red, then a coloured, sink a red, then a coloured, with the coloured coming back out each time; then, with the 15 reds pocketed, sink the colours in order of value: yellow, green, brown, blue, pink, black. Game over.
Men are in awe of other men who do beautiful things with their hands, whether it be playing the piano, or handcrafting wood, or throwing a curveball.
And Budgie, plain and simple, plays snooker beautifully.
He does not “whack” the cue ball, or punch it, or poke it, he strokes it, but with only enough force so the intended ball reaches the pocket on its last turn or two. A fidgety sort of man, you can see how snooker stills him, that active brain three shots ahead of the easy one on the table. Before every shot, he stops and looks, then stops and looks, grimaces a little, does a fake whistle as though to burn nervous energy, then shoots and makes.
In the final, Budge played an opponent very different than him, Wenbin Zhang, 33, who has dark hair in a pony tail, a tattoo on his right bicep, bright blue FILA running shoes, and a grey T-shirt and athletic sweats. “Nice kid,” Budge says.
He, on the other hand, was dressed like a Sears ad: brown loafers, beige chinos with a pressed crease visible down the back, and a white, checked shirt.
Ervin Budge, or Budgie of Newport Fame, playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
Wenbin Zhang playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
I’ve known Budgie for years. He is a character of the first order, which is another way of saying he is the repository of terrible jokes. He spends his waking hours, pretty much, making people laugh and groan.
(Walk into the Newport Restaurant, where he tends the cash pen. He reaches for the phone. “Yes, officer, he just walked in.” Partway through the semi-finals, he misses a shot and walks away tapping the fat end of his cue on the carpet, like a white cane: “Just wait till I get my eyes tested.” After he misses a fairly easy shot in the side: “My grandmother makes that. Like missing a six-inch putt.”)
Snooker is a gentleman’s game and its manners are old school. I can’t look at a table without thinking of the Century Club on Sparks Street, the reverence inside on quiet afternoons, and my old man, in grey trousers that smelled of oil and cigarette smoke, patience tested, holding a cue. Maybe that’s why he brought along a pair of wide-eyed kids: to show us he too, an ordinary man, could make a beautiful thing or two himself.
Monkey owner Brian Beauchamp, 48, says snooker has a stubborn, devoted following at the club and he admires the respect the players hold for each other.
“Pool and snooker and like checkers and chess,” he says.
True. One is a game, the other a hard beauty.
To contact Kelly Egan, please call 613-726-5896 or email kegan@postmedia.com
Twitter.com/kellyegancolumn
Ervin Budge.
查看原文...
And if the game doesn’t, Ervin Budge will.
One night this week at the Orange Monkey, the city’s best-known snooker hangout, the winter-league championship was underway.
Budgie, as he’s usually called, was playing in the semi-finals, which he would not lose, then the finals, which he would not lose, though his opponent was given a 24-point head start as “handicap.” Yes, he’s that good.
He is 76 now, with a rubbery face, sad eyes and neatly combed hair. There is little debate he’s one of the finest snooker players the city has ever produced.
Ervin Budge, or Budgie of Newport Fame, playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
“I think I lost before I left the house,” said Dan Collins, 63, a semi-finalist who lost three straight to Budge. He is a good player, serious enough that’s he’s bought a pair of those odd-looking snooker eyeglasses and ordered a two-piece cue from England, at a cost of 170 British pounds.
“In snooker, you’re trying to out-think your opponent and Budge, of course, is outstanding at that.”
At the Monkey, the six snooker tables are lit with overhead fluorescent tubes, nine feet long, covered by dark shades with hanging tassels, so the light looks poured from an upside down box.
The effect is to create a stage of smooth wool, with an audience of men in the shadows, folded in chairs, or leaning on posts or drink rails, murmuring. There are no numbers on the balls, only colours, so to play the game is to memorize a code. Sink a red, then a coloured, sink a red, then a coloured, with the coloured coming back out each time; then, with the 15 reds pocketed, sink the colours in order of value: yellow, green, brown, blue, pink, black. Game over.
Men are in awe of other men who do beautiful things with their hands, whether it be playing the piano, or handcrafting wood, or throwing a curveball.
And Budgie, plain and simple, plays snooker beautifully.
He does not “whack” the cue ball, or punch it, or poke it, he strokes it, but with only enough force so the intended ball reaches the pocket on its last turn or two. A fidgety sort of man, you can see how snooker stills him, that active brain three shots ahead of the easy one on the table. Before every shot, he stops and looks, then stops and looks, grimaces a little, does a fake whistle as though to burn nervous energy, then shoots and makes.
In the final, Budge played an opponent very different than him, Wenbin Zhang, 33, who has dark hair in a pony tail, a tattoo on his right bicep, bright blue FILA running shoes, and a grey T-shirt and athletic sweats. “Nice kid,” Budge says.
He, on the other hand, was dressed like a Sears ad: brown loafers, beige chinos with a pressed crease visible down the back, and a white, checked shirt.
Ervin Budge, or Budgie of Newport Fame, playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
Wenbin Zhang playing in the Orange Monkey snooker championships Monday night.
I’ve known Budgie for years. He is a character of the first order, which is another way of saying he is the repository of terrible jokes. He spends his waking hours, pretty much, making people laugh and groan.
(Walk into the Newport Restaurant, where he tends the cash pen. He reaches for the phone. “Yes, officer, he just walked in.” Partway through the semi-finals, he misses a shot and walks away tapping the fat end of his cue on the carpet, like a white cane: “Just wait till I get my eyes tested.” After he misses a fairly easy shot in the side: “My grandmother makes that. Like missing a six-inch putt.”)
Snooker is a gentleman’s game and its manners are old school. I can’t look at a table without thinking of the Century Club on Sparks Street, the reverence inside on quiet afternoons, and my old man, in grey trousers that smelled of oil and cigarette smoke, patience tested, holding a cue. Maybe that’s why he brought along a pair of wide-eyed kids: to show us he too, an ordinary man, could make a beautiful thing or two himself.
Monkey owner Brian Beauchamp, 48, says snooker has a stubborn, devoted following at the club and he admires the respect the players hold for each other.
“Pool and snooker and like checkers and chess,” he says.
True. One is a game, the other a hard beauty.
To contact Kelly Egan, please call 613-726-5896 or email kegan@postmedia.com
Twitter.com/kellyegancolumn
Ervin Budge.
查看原文...
