The best snooker player ever to chalk a tip has just hung up his cue. Here’s my grudging tribute. And a few other celebrated retirements for good measure.
Jocular. Not a word frequently used to describe Stephen Hendry during his illustrious career. To me, his expression – which never changed whatever the match situation – was that of a mildly surprised dog. One whose head was made of granite. A large, canine, Easter Island type figure who would no more crack a smile than miss a black off its spot. Hell, in the age of Rockets, Hurricanes and Whirlwinds, he didn’t even have a proper nickname (and don’t go scurrying off to Wikipedia to tell me he was ‘The Maestro’ or ‘The Golden Boy’ because when did anyone ever refer to him as such?). The finest player of his sport in history, almost certainly, but a joker? A kidder around? A messer about? Not in my lifetime. Hendry was, as a mate of mine once said of someone’s girlfriend, about as much fun as a stick.
And yet yesterday evening when I tuned in to the Red Button coverage from The Crucible, there he was, the stony-faced Scot, joshing away with quarter final opponent, Stephen Maguire. “Well played, pal,” I thought I lip-read, as Maguire paced back to his seat. Hendry, I could have sworn, was smirking. I’m convinced he even gave Maguire a friendly little shoulder charge as the two passed each other. It was all the more remarkable given that Maguire had, at that point, just taken an 11-1 lead in the match.
Later, all became clear. Hendry had retired. So that was it. It was his last day in the office before disappearing over the horizon to a life of potting sheds (genuinely no pun intended) and Saga holidays. Like the actuary who, after 45 years’ loyal service and not a blemish on his record, cuts up his tie in front of his boss, slaps the tea lady on the bum and flees with his pension yelling “Yah boo sucks to you, The Man.” Hendry had planned it, you see. It mattered not that his match yesterday ended in a 13-2 defeat. He knew beforehand that whoever beat him would be the final opponent of his career.
Yet, in a way, the timing is surprising. At times during this year’s tournament, he’s looked like the Hendry of old, pummelling reigning champion (and the third Scottish player to be mentioned here so far) John Higgins 13-4 after making a 147 in his first round match. Hendry says his imminent retirement was the reason he was “more animated than normal” about the maximum. Really? A single-fisted pump to the crowd, a firm handshake from Ken Doherty who’d been playing on the adjacent table and a measured sip of water don’t seem particularly animated to me. Reminds me of a bit in Alan Shearer’s ‘auto’ biography (no, of course I haven’t read it). Apparently, he celebrated his first England cap by going home and creosoting the garden fence. Which led to an excellent gag on They Think It’s All Over where Nick Hancock suggested Shearer celebrated his first goal by going home, flinging his wife on the bed and hoovering where she’d been standing.
By the way, here’s Ali Carter making his 147 at the 2008 World Champs. Now that is animated, Stephen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4s0F7AP_eZ0
Anyway, back to Hendry the legend. The facts and figures are incontrovertible. Seven world titles, the most ranking titles ever, world number one for eight consecutive years, more centuries by a distance than anyone else…Quite simply the finest player there’s ever been. He will be missed. Not for his jocularity, though.
I’ll leave the last word on Hendry to my hero Jimmy White, who Tweeted: “I thank him sincerely for some of the best matches and memories of my own career.” Ever magnanimous, White. Having lost four World finals to Hendry, he stopped short of adding: “But I wish the bastard had retired twenty years ago.”
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Here’s the part where I usually branch out and talk about other great sporting retirements. But it’s late and I want (a) to go to bed and (b) you lot to contribute. So let me give you three starters:
Lennox Lewis. Did what few boxers seem capable of doing. Retiring at the top and staying retired. Well done, Lennox. Take note, David Haye.
Zinedine Zidane. What a way to go. As a World Cup Final-ruining thug. But at least he defended his sister’s honour.
Richard Hughes. The most talented and stylish Flat jockey around jacked it in last year in response to the British Horseracing Authority’s controversial whip rules. When the rules were revised, Hughes returned to the saddle.
