Bow-tied snooker players and hushed commentary: the joys of Pot Black | Nova Weetman

We’d curl up on the couch, waiting for that jaunty theme song. Some games would be so close I worried I’d stop breathing

M

y parents weren’t big watchers of sport. We didn’t have a family football team or spend all summer obsessing about cricket scores. But when I was about eight or nine Dad introduced me to the joys of Pot Black, the BBC snooker competition that was televised in Australia on the ABC.

At the time I’d never played snooker or seen a pool table. I didn’t understand the rules or know how it felt to send a white ball barrelling along the green felt to nudge another into a pocket.

Dad didn’t play and I doubt he knew the rules any more than I did but each week we’d curl up together on the old couch, waiting for that jaunty theme song to start. As the first player broke, we stopped talking.