Technology decided to mock me this morning. My plan was to write my blog and record a quick snooker podcast before getting on with the Rasputin script, but you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and mentallists.
I wrote my blog over breakfast, but it wasn't quite long enough so I browsed the internet whilst I waited for inspiration to strike. I should have just published it because suddenly my computer froze completely and did not respond to any cajoling. I left it to its own devices hoping it would heal itself and went downstairs to play snooker against myself.
I was still in my dressing gown and I thought that would be apt, as it demonstrated Me2's increasing mental breakdown, but as Commentator 2 would angrily later point out this meant that Me1 was also wearing a dressing gown and as much as I tried to explain this away by it being refined in his case, this whole thing smacked of laziness. Commentator 2 believed that I should change clothes between each shot. It would certainly help delineate whose shot it was.
There was a grand conceit for the frame and there may be some mild spoilers in this so get up to date with the contest before you read it. It was suggested that Me2 was not just playing Me1 on the snooker board, but that he had pitted himself against the unbeatable force of love (it's certainly the case that since Me1's marriage Me2's form has not been great) and with Me1's repeated assertion that if he lost a frame he would annul his marriage (although with the nervous caveat that this would certainly remain the case as long as he was winning) it did seem that Me2 wasn't just fighting Me1 today, he was fighting against himself too. But he was determined to win and to destroy love and although he went in off on the break, meaning Me1 was winning without even having visited the table, things improved significantly from there on in. Me2's dressing gown flapped open a few times, but he didn't put on display anything that the audience at the Shepherd's Bush Equilateral Triangle hadn't seen before. And he was playing, largely with great confidence and elan. There were several two and three ball breaks in the match, which led Commentator 1 to comment on the value of practice, advising any young listeners who might dream of competing against themselves at snooker on this level to get into the habit of playing for half an hour a week. And it started to look all over for Me1 as Me2 opened up a lead and then after a couple of excellent snookers from Me2, found himself over 30 points adrift.
Commentator 1 warned that love is a powerful force and that Me2 fans should not get excited until the match was over, but with five balls left on the table even he had to concede that champagne would already be being opened by the long-suffering Me2 fans.
And then came one of the greatest chokes in sporting history. With victory almost assured and love defeated Me2 started to play terribly. On three occasions when going for a visible (though tight) colour) he managed to hit the wrong ball, racking up 19 penalty points. Evenso Me1 would need all the colours and another snooker to win and with just three balls left that seemed unlikely (though at this level of snooker a player can just totally miss a ball altogether). Was Me2 afraid to defeat love? The turnaround was so extreme that even I had to consider the fact that Me2 was throwing this on purpose. But I knew he wasn't. He was trying to win, The nerves were getting to him. I felt a bit scared. It was slightly supernatural, like love had picked up a third invisible cue and was playing for its own survival.
But when Me1 potted the pink, incredibly, he evened up the scores. Whoever potted the black would win. With typical flamboyance Me2 took a chance and tried to double the black into the top pocket, but he missed, leaving a fairly easy pot for the frame for Me1. But then disaster struck. As Me2 leant across the bar where the Tascam recorder was situated the sleeve of his dressing gown caught on the Tascam recorder and sent it smashing to the floor. This has happened before (in fact this is the second Tascam I have as I broke the first) and I knew that in all likelihood the recording was lost. And that turned out to be the case. What was surely the most unbelievable and exciting self-playing snooker frame had been lost.
I started up the recorder again and it was still working (though the play/pause button is stuck and doesn't function) and recorded the denouement. You'll have to listen to find out if love was destroyed. But either way my heart was broken.
And yet, in a sense, isn't it more in the spirit of Me1 ve Me2 snooker for this to happen. Isn't it better and certainly funnier that a man played himself at snooker in a basement, got genuinely excited about it and then failed to record it properly so no one will ever hear what he did? I think it is.
I recorded a brief description of the action and the result of course must stand. You can hear it
here and on iTunes.
Meanwhile my computer had also turned itself off and the blog was lost. All the extra work on my stupid blogs and podcasts meant once again no work was done on my paid job. Again, making the whole thing funnier and more meaningful.
