Snookered by the cynics

It was refreshing to read this article in the Sunday Herald reflecting on the ongoing therapeutic and life-affirming effect of watching snooker. I know, I know, I feel quite stupid for even having written those words. But the thing is, it's become a bit depressing each year at this time (and it's felt like this for at least fifteen years now) to read the ritual articles about how the glory days of the sport are long since past. Apart from anything else, it always leaves me with the alarming feeling that I'm wasting my life spending hours being gently hypnotised by something that's just so 1980s and past its prime. I'm also tormented by the knowledge that I probably failed one or two important exams in the 1990s because I was too busy willing Stephen Hendry or John Higgins to victory at the Crucible. There I part company with the writer of the Herald piece, though, because during the same period she was apparently willing the likes of Higgins and Hendry to fail against the so-called more 'charismatic' players like Jimmy White and Ronnie O'Sullivan. But if O'Sullivan's probable third world title tomorrow is what it takes to make others start to nod in agreement with her more general sentiment, I might just say it's worth it.