| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
![]() Trade In this Item for up to £0.25
Get an extra £5 when you trade in books worth £10 or more until June 30, 2012. Trade in Behind The White Ball: My Autobiography for an Amazon.co.uk gift card of up to £0.25, which you can then spend on millions of items across the site. Trade-in values may vary (terms apply). Find more products eligible for trade-in.
|
Product details
|
Behind the White Ball starts with an illiterate teenager getting both a street education and an income hustling in a south London snooker hall and ends with an older, a bit wiser, and literate man still making a living from his cue. But in between there is all the mayhem you could ask for; escaping irate locals after taking the money off the customers in a Liverpool snooker hall; fetching up a bit too often for his wife's peace of mind at Ronnie Wood's place--"although when I hang out with The Stones I end up making the tea"--and, bizarrely, attending Chelsea matches with Peter Cook. Whirlwind stuff indeed. --Nick Wroe --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Tags Customers Associate with This Product(What's this?)Click on a tag to find related items, discussions, and people.
|
Behind the White Ball mirrors Jimmy’s life in form as well as content. It tells like a good round of stories in the pub. The chapters veer unsteadily from drinking binges in London, the ensuing hangover (in Dublin), taking in Canada, Tasmania, Hong Kong, India and anywhere else where the balls are set up and the bar is open. Jimmy was there, getting up to God knows what. The book has a habit of avoiding dates and times. They don’t matter. Jimmy probably doesn’t remember anyway. Whatever happened was just one more comedy of errors in his life. Who cares what year it was?
He tells his tale exactly as you’d expect, free of both arrogance and false modesty, a thoroughly likeable character whose treatment of his wife is the only black mark. Unlike Alex Higgins and other Professional Lads, he never seems like someone you’d cross the street to avoid. Even when, perhaps inevitably given his lifestyle, Jimmy hits the rocks with personal difficulties and serious illness, everything is told with humour (he’s still Jimmy after all) but a contrasting poignancy as well, particularly when recounting his late brother’s unconventional send-off.
The misses? Well, a blurb on the back regards the book as ‘refreshingly free of snooker’. It’s true that BTWB sensibly avoids the endless rehashing of old matches, Player A won a frame, Player B scored a 75 to draw level etc. But perhaps Jimmy could have reminisced a little more about his great matches. How did he really feel about the missed black in 1994? What did he do afterwards, who did he speak to? We learn very little of the pin-drop moments when the green baize enthralled the nation, and of which he was such a big part. His matches with Higgins, Hendry, and Thorburn. He remarks early on of how enchanting he found the ‘Aladdin’s Cave’ of a snooker hall. Could he not have elaborated as he progressed from dingy clubs to Wembley and the Crucible?
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t thoroughly enjoy BTWB. You can read it in a couple of hours but you’ll come back to it (or certain chapters) far more often. And Jimmy WILL win the world title. Just you wait.
|
This product's forum
Active discussions in related forums
Search Customer Discussions
|
Related forums
|
|
|
|