A Parliament of Billiards.
The Billiard Times. January, 1914
By the Galleryite.
From an entirely unreliable source, we have obtained a Most Important Document. This is nothing less than a full record of the proceedings of the recently formed Association for the Government of Billiards. You had not heard of such an Association? Neither had we until we saw the Most Important Document referred to.
I t appears that the select band of professional players, feeling that they themselves were the most suitable persons to safeguard and conserve the interests of billiards, recently met and considered many things. And the outcome of their considerations was the new Association. This is how it happened.
The meeting was held in the privacy of an inner room at a well-known hostelry not a hundred miles from Leicester Square. There were present— well, everyone who counts in the constellation of billiard stars.
The first business was to elect a Chairman, and the minutes make it quite clear that a not inconsiderable amount of time was spent upon this, for of course there was involved the question of precedence and prestige, two P.’s which are vastly important in progressive billiardom. Eventually, Mr. Edward Diggle, by virtue of seniority, was voted to the chair. He initiated his tenure of office by promptly ordering suitable refreshment, a course of conduct which immediately convinced all present that he was the Right Man in the Right Place.
The first business was to discuss the resolution: “That this meeting recognises that nobody who has not made a break of 250 is qualified to act on any governing, authority for the game of billiards.”
In a speech of much lucidity and considerable length, Mr. Melbourne Inman proposed the adoption of the resolution. “For too long,“ he said, “we have been the downtrodden slaves of presumptuous amateurs. We are now going to rise in our wrath and put these men in their proper place. In this room are gathered many great men— (hear, hear)— and some very great men— ‘And so say all of us ’)— and we are going to rule, my friends. We will soon settle the red ball business, which reminds me to say that if Gray thinks he is going to get my title——- ”
(Loud cries of “Order”)
Mr. Thomas Reece rose to second the proposition. He said: “My old and esteemed friend, Mel. Inman, has made a very fine speech without a single fluke, and I have much pleasure in seconding. Not that I am generally second and Inman first; far from it.” From the minutes it appears that this aside led to a suggestion of back chat, but Mr. Diggle smoothed matters over by saying that if Mr. Reece did not keep to the point he would vacate the chair.
Mr. Reece at once ended his contribution to the debate with the remark that England was a free country, and he was taking no orders from Diggle or anyone else. At the same time, if Inman would deposit £1,000 with “Tit-Bits” he would be prepared to—but disorder prevented a proper hearing of the conclusion.
There were demands for a speech from “The Colonel,” and Mr. Cecil Harverson at once rose.
“I have long felt,” he said, “that there was room for such an Association as this. There is a lot of good work that we can do. One of our first duties will be to put the Press in its proper place. I have to-day seen two heats in the Press Handicap, and all I can say is that it is disgraceful impertinence for these upstarts who order drinks round if they make a nine break to say that we ever play badly. We allow them to see our matches without payment; surely in return we may expect consideration.”
The Chairman, who had followed Mr. Harverson’s speech with closed eyes, now announced that they would proceed to the next business. It was pointed out that the proposition had not been voted upon, but Mr. Diggle, with great firmness, remarked that there was only one Chairman.
The next motion before the Association was that “No player be allowed to make more than 25 consecutive red losers: first offence, 40s., second offence, deportation to the country from whence the player came; passage paid in necessitous cases.”
Mr. Inman was again the proposer, and said: “We are all out for sport, gentlemen, and we will not have this great game ruined by red losers. (Laughter and applause.) Besides, the public must be protected; it is shameful that they should be tired out by watching the fed ball go up and down the table.”
Mr. Reece at this juncture caused great commotion by bursting into song—
“Up and down it goes,
The bonny little red ball;
Melbourne gets the needle,
And so do all the pro’s“
The Chairman at once rose and informed Mr. Reece that if he was going to indulge in that sort of thing the meeting was disbanded.
Mr. Reece apologised, saying that his feelings of sympathy with Mr. Inman were so acute that- he could only express them in poetry.
Mr. George Gray, who had so far remained silent, interposed with the remark, “The public can stay away if they don’t like it, but they don’t seem to want to stay away.”
Mr. Inman replied to this point, and spoke with considerable gravity. “I am afraid, Mr. Gray, you are too young to appreciate the position. The public must be protected against themselves, and we, yes we, are the men to protect them.”
The resolution was eventually declared to be carried.
“Are we going to run a Championship?” asked the Chairman, “and if so, what are the conditions?”
“Of course,” observed Mr. Reece, “the title has no holder for the moment, for it is only ten minutes or so since we abolished all existing authorities.”
“What’s that, Reece,” Interpolated Mr. Inman, speaking with considerable heat. “Once and for all, no coffee-house tricks here. There is a championship, and I am the champion.”
“But that was under the regime that has been abolished,” replied Mr. Reece.
“Never mind about regimes, or anything else. Put the money down to-morrow; you know very well I have had £3,000 lying at the offices of ‘Home Chat’ for over six months.”
“Now just observe this, you lads,” cut in the Chairman, “any more of this kind of talk and I abolish the Association. Like that— biff,” and Mr. Diggle made an eloquent gesture with his cigar.
“Well, we must have a champion to start with,” remarked ‘Colonel’ Harverson. “I propose we make it odd man out, and decide on that.”
This procedure was adopted on a show of hands, and was at once carried out. The new champion was duly declared to be Mr. J. Brady, of Dublin.
“And very nice, too,” said Mr. Reece.
Mr. Stevenson now rose from a corner seat and at once broached an important matter.
“Well, Mr. Chairman,” he said, “we have done a lot of business, and if we stay here long enough I have no doubt that we shall be able to settle the Home Rule question, and give old age pensions to everybody at 35. But in the meantime we can’t run this Association without money. For one thing, we must buy a championship belt for friend Brady; he’s a broth of a bhoy, and it must be a good one. And there are several other things. Now I propose that we all p u t down £100 apiece. That will be a start, at any rate.”
There was silence; the room was hushed to great calm.
At length a voice: “Well, lads, it’s getting late, I must be making for Leicester Square.”
A second voice: “Three cheers for the B. C. C. Good old B.C.C.”
They were given with great heartiness.