For my mother and late father, for the start you gave me and the many sacrifices you made. For Sarah, for all your love and support. For Seamus, Anthony, Rosemarie and all my family, you have been my rock. And for Christian, you are the centre of my world.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: WORLD CHAMPION
Chapter Two: THE LOWEST DEPTHS
Chapter Three: GROWING UP
Chapter Four: ILFORD
Chapter Five: BACK IN THE GAME
Chapter Six: FROM AMATEUR TO PROFESSIONAL
Chapter Seven: TALKING A GOOD GAME
Chapter Eight: KING OF THE CRUCIBLE
Chapter Nine: SENIORS SERVICE
Chapter Ten: THE NIGHTMARE MISS
Chapter Eleven: ROBBED
Chapter Twelve: THE HURRICANE
Chapter Thirteen: FLYING HIGH
Chapter Fourteen: SIX APPEAL
Chapter Fifteen: THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
Chapter Sixteen: SLOW PROGRESS
Chapter Seventeen: PLAYERS AND ME
Chapter Eighteen: SUPPORTING MANCHESTER UNITED
Chapter Nineteen: BACK TO THE CRUCIBLE
Chapter Twenty: THE HIGGINS SCANDAL
Chapter Twenty-One: THE FAME GAME
Chapter Twenty-Two: LIFE OUTSIDE SNOOKER
Chapter Twenty-Three: FAMILY LIFE
Chapter Twenty-Four: POTTING ALL OVER THE WORLD
Chapter Twenty-Five: THE WORLD TURNS
Chapter Twenty-Six: HOW OTHERS SEE ME
Chapter Twenty-Seven: UPDATE
Chapter Twenty-Eight: THE FUTURE
Plates
Copyright
Crucible Theatre, Sheffield, 5 May 1997
To be at the table on the final night of the World Snooker Championship, potting the balls you need to become the winner of our sport’s greatest prize, is every player’s dream.
It had been mine since I was a boy. I’d got into snooker through watching the weekly series Pot Black on television but I realised I wanted to be a professional – wanted to be world champion – when I saw Alex Higgins win his second world title in 1982. I was 12 years old and sat there transfixed. Alex was the most exciting player in the game and had helped to put it on the map through his brilliant play and well-documented off-table antics. I can still see him that night, stood on the stage at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield after beating Ray Reardon in the final, tears rolling down his face, calling for his wife and baby daughter to join him as he cradled the silver trophy. It was such an incredible, unforgettable moment and I knew as I watched from my front room in Ranelagh, Dublin that I wanted to be part of that world. And there I was, 15 years later, about to follow in Alex’s footsteps.
The odds were stacked against me going into the final. Stephen Hendry was unbeatable at the time. He’d won six world titles, including every single one since 1992. He had established himself as one of the greatest players in the history of the sport and the Crucible was like his back room. For these reasons, most people would have backed him to win but I believed in myself. It was, after all, only a two-horse race. I’d beaten him before and I saw this as my big chance to join the pantheon of snooker legends. I pictured myself lifting the trophy up in that iconic arena, the famous twinkle lights providing the backdrop for a hundred photographs as I held the silverware aloft. I imagined the applause and the acclaim. I had to believe I was capable of experiencing that because if I’d allowed myself to think about Stephen, about how good he was and the damage he could do, then I don’t think I’d have won.
I went into the final full of hope with the feeling that I could come out on top if I played a good tactical match and punished his mistakes. I wasn’t going to out-score Stephen or out-pot him, but I could compete in the safety department and I knew if he missed that I could feed off the crumbs. I got stronger and stronger as the match went on.
I’d led Stephen 15-7 before he won the last two frames of the third session. 15-9 was still a good lead but then he won the first three of the final session and suddenly it was 15-12. Like everyone else in the game, I’d seen him make incredible comebacks before, as when he’d come from 14-8 down to beat Jimmy White 18-14 in the 1992 final, so the pressure was on me. In the 28th frame, I made a break of 61 but he had a chance to steal it. That would have turned the match and made it an unpleasant 15-minute interval for me, spent contemplating defeat having held such a massive lead. However, he missed a red down a cushion and instead of 15-13 it was 16-12. I won the next frame and I was so relieved at that point that I felt great, as if I couldn’t lose.
Potting the last few balls was just surreal. It was like it was happening in slow motion. I looked over to the press seats and saw Tony Drago, a Maltese player and a good pal of mine, with a big smile on his face and that started me smiling. I looked up to my friends in the crowd. I thought of Alex Higgins and my dad, who watched Alex’s 1982 victory with me and who died when I was 13. I just wished he could have been there to see me do it.
Stephen shook my hand and then I was interviewed by David Vine of the BBC before the trophy presentation. I held up the cup just as I’d imagined, only the reality was far better. It was a fantastic feeling.
My family didn’t come over for the final. They couldn’t take the nerves and the pressure. A crew from RTE went round to my mam’s house to film them watching the match but she’d gone out on her bike. She couldn’t even take watching it on the TV. My two brothers, Seamus and Anthony, and my sister, Rosemarie, were there and they had press knocking on the door all day for interviews. They had the champagne on standby but were climbing the walls with nerves.
My mother ended up getting a puncture and had no way of knowing what had happened in the final. She didn’t have a mobile phone and, anyway, she tried to avoid people in case they gave her the latest score. She just wanted to shut the final out until it was over. She had to walk back to the family home in Ranelagh from Donnybrook, pushing her bike all the way, and called in at a friend’s house, which is how she found out I’d won.
My memory of winning the title was made more special by the way the Irish people celebrated with me and by discovering the impact it had had on so many of them. You don’t realise when you’re playing in a big match like that just how many people are living every emotion with you, willing on every pot and going through every little setback. I would discover just what it meant to everyone back home in the next couple of days.
After the final, I did press interviews and then went to the champion’s reception at a hotel in Sheffield. We had a great party. Eamon Dunphy was there and quite a few other friends from Dublin, including the footballer