Snooker. The Game That Refused to Be Replaced
In the years following the creation of snooker, as described in the previous volumes of this trilogy, its rules travelled widely, most often by word of mouth. Inevitably, they were misheard, imperfectly remembered, or locally reinterpreted. This gave rise to a range of variations, sometimes only distantly resembling one another, yet still retaining something of the parent game’s structure and spirit. It was not unusual for neighbouring clubs to play what they each called ‘snooker’ under different sets of rules. For a game that appeared, at least outwardly, to have been born by chance, such divergence was to be expected. Yet, as François-Marie Arouet, better known as Voltaire, wisely observed, ‘There is no such thing as an accident. What we call by that name is the effect of some cause which we do not see.’
From there, things did not merely diversify—they multiplied, improvised, and occasionally ran off the rails. Alongside the national forms already discussed in the previous volume appeared games that bore only a passing resemblance to snooker, having borrowed a ball, a table, or little more than the general idea that spheres ought to be persuaded into pockets. Some were outdoor affairs on green lawns, presenting themselves as relations of the indoor game, while others were devised by earnest reformers and introduced as modern replacements for ‘outdated’ classical snooker—an impressive claim, considering the original was still becoming itself. There were also genuinely kindred games, created not to supplant but to develop neighbouring territory, and, inevitably, inventions launched with noise and bold declarations, only to be met, before long, with deafening silence. All have their place in the story, and we shall meet them in due course.