Go online and search for ‘grandmothers playing billiards (or snooker).’ Aside from an article about Grandma Fatma, Turkey’s oldest snooker fan, or a Maltese nonagenarian who likes Stephen Hendry, the pickings are slim. Yet, the concept has a certain hip factor, as evidenced by the variety of available merch emblazoned with slogans such as, “Some Grandmas Play Bingo; Real Grandmas Play Pool,” “Never Underestimate the Power of a Grandma Who Plays Pool,” and my favorite, “My Grandma Will Break Your Balls.”
In fact, the concept’s popular appeal can be traced back at least to May 1987, during the second season of the British children’s television show SuperGran. In the “Supergran Snookered” episode, our favorite superpowered grandmother, Granny Smith (Gudrun Ure) demonstrates that aside from being able to jump tremendous heights and hear distressed communications from a long distance, she also shoots a mean game of snooker.The episode is available to watch below.
For the unfamiliar, SuperGran, which was based on a series of children’s books by Forrest Wilson, is about an elderly grandma who accidentally acquires superpowers when she is hit by a magic ray. In the guise of Super Gran, she protects the residents of the fictional town of Chiselton from villains such as Roderick ‘Scunner’ Campbell (Iain Cuthbertson) and his gang, the Muscles.
In “Supergran Snookered,” Campbell fortuitously realizes that the local overweight Cat Burglar, initially dismissed and denigrated as a “myopic mass of multitudinous flab” or a “quivering colossal crumb” is a snooker prodigy. Armed with his new secret weapon, the ever-scheming Campbell becomes a snooker promoter. As the narrator shares, “By the end of that day, Scunner Campbell was walking on air. Yes you could keep your Joe Johnsons, your Hurricane Higgins and your Whirlwind Whites, the next snooker sensation just had to be Fat Cat Burglar.”
As snooker fever envelopes Chiseltown, Campbell sets up the Chiseltown Snooker Championship, which ultimately draws the attention of Mr. McBigg, a resident gangster, who wagers 50,000 pounds (approximately $135,000 USD today). The match is supposed to feature Cat Burglar against McBigg’s stakehorse, Hot Shot Houlihan. But, complications ensue, leading to McBigg playing SuperGran, a last-minute substitute for Cat Burglar. Though McBigg initially disparages her as “the Tartan twit that jumps through walls,” he quickly becomes mum, as SuperGran runs 147 points for a perfect break.
The light-hearted episode allows SuperGran to showcase a variety of her enhanced skills, including accelerated cartwheeling, bicycle stunt riding, and superhuman strength. But, of course, it’s her snooker that really shines.
While the actual filming of the snooker is terrible (i.e., all potted balls, no set-ups, no continuous shots), the scene’s saving grace is none other than the real Willie Thorne, who watches from the stands, patiently awaiting his “few pointers” from SuperGran.
At least since 1948, when Milton Berle first hosted Texaco Star Theater, television has aired sketch comedy shows. Over the years, and propelled by the success of sketch comedy titans such as Saturday Night Live and Monty Python’s Flying Circus, hundreds of shows have followed.
“Van Hammersly” – Mr. Show
While they’re concentrated in certain geographic markets, such as the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom, sketch comedy shows are a global television genre. Early progenitors arose in the Netherlands (Van Kooten en De Bie) and Mexico (Los Supergenios de la Mesa Cuadrada); more recent incarnations are everywhere, including Malaysia (Senario), Philippines (Lokomoko), Brazil (Hermes & Renato), and Indonesia (Extravaganza).
Given the global popularity of sketch comedy, it was only a hop, skip, and a jump to explore its intersection with another global phenomenon: billiards, of course. The sampling below is hardly the genre’s best (e.g., “The Hustler of Money” or “Van Hammersly” from Mr. Show) or comprehensive (as I have intentionally omitted England, since I recently wrote about British sketch comedy during snooker’s golden era), but it does represent 25,000 miles of billiards sketch comedies from around the world. Chalk up and enjoy!
Key & Peele – “Pussy on the Chain Wax”(USA)
Circled around an in-home billiards table, four friends begin a game of pool with the opening break. As Jordan Peele’s character lines up to take his shot, Keegan-Michael Key’s character recounts a recent fight he got into. There’s some friendly disputing of the facts, to which Key clarifies that he put the “pussy on the chain wax.” Two of the friends echo their support with laughs, hand slaps, and shoulder bumps. But, Jordan’s character is more suspect – not of the fight details, but of the authenticity of his friend’s phrase. Is “pussy on the chain wax” even a “thing”?1
This 2013 segment from the series’ third season is pitch-perfect, gut-busting fun. In this case, the phrase is absurd. Peele’s linguistic challenge is logical; he even Googles the phrase to find no matches. But, as the background piano fades in, Key shares his true plight: “I lost my job. My girlfriend left me…I just wanted to have a little fund with my friends today” and can’t understand why the origin of the phrase matters. Caught off guard by the rawness of his friend’s emotions, Peele unwinds his crusade without skipping a beat and joins in the brotastic bonhomie. Cue the choir: it’s time to put the “pussy on the chain wax!” The sketch is available to watch here.
SCTV – “Melonville Snooker Championship” (Canada)
Second City Television, a Canadian sketch comedy series which ran from 1976 to 1984, featured an all-star cast of rising Canucks, including John Candy, Eugene Levy, Rick Moranis, and Catherine O’hara. Many of the sketches were side-splittingly funny; unfortunately, the 1978 segment “Melonville Snooker Championship” was not one of them.
The sketch focuses on a snooker championship, pitting Lenny “Golden Arm” Bouchard (John Candy) against “The Greek Hustler” Alki Stereopolis (Joe Flaherty), at Dwayne & Tino’s Bowling and Billiards bar.2 Both players are a far cry from the formal, polished gentlemen of English snooker. But, the real grater is announcer Lou Jaffe (Eugene Levy), whose nasal, singsongy voice and random exclamations continue to interrupt the match and ultimately lead to fisticuffs between the two players.
Full Frontal – “Parko’s Good Sports: Snooker”(Australia)
On the positive, Full Frontal, the Australian sketch comedy series that ran from 1993 to 1997, introduced us to Eric Bana, who eventually stepped away from the funnyman role to headline Hollywood blockbusters, such as Troy, Hulk, and Munich.
But Full Frontal also included the the incredibly unhumorous segment “Parko’s Good Sports: Snooker,” which has our Good Sports host interviewing Milo Kerrigan, a punch-drunk ex-boxer (played by Shaun Micallef) about snooker, a “quiet game requiring a delicate touch and a lot of finesse.” The gag is that Milo is hardly delicate (or coherent). He garbles and babbles; he hits balls off the table and wears the rack on his head; he launches his cue stick into the wall – twice. The one thing he doesn’t do is act remotely funny, which makes me hard-pressed to understand why he was one of Full Frontal’s most popular characters.
Comedy Central Stand-Up, Asia! – “Mini Billiards”(Singapore)
With a big heart and a small billiards table, the “Mini Billiards” sketch from Comedy Central Stand-Up, Asia! has just enough humor and originality to keep viewers smiling and engaged. The sketch pits GB Labrador, a Pinoy stand-up comedian, against Eliot Chang, an NY-based comedian, in a game of billiards that is played on a desktop table less than a foot long.
Capitalizing on the popularity of billiards in the Philippines, Mr. Labrador embraces his nationality and declares, “Billiards is our game.” The two comedians then alternate taking shots, which seems much harder for Mr. Chang, who is “not used to small balls.”
The players’ quips are rather feeble (especially when Mr. Chang invokes Harry Potter), but the editors score humor points with some clever sound and visual effects. And, Mr. Labrador gets in a good laugh when he rebuffs Mr. Chang’s plea for mercy by telling him that he “already has a wealthy country.”
Chewin’ the Fat: “Ford and Greg on the Couch” (Scotland)
Chewin’ the Fat was a Scottish sketch comedy series that aired 30 episodes of guffaws between 1999 and 2002. In the season’s first episode, one of the segments takes us behind the scenes of the Snooker Semi-Finals at the Crucible to view some of the “lighter moments that have made this tournament so entertaining.”
Yet another sketch lampooning the formality of snooker, this wordless episode is a pastiche of boys behaving badly set to a ragtime soundtrack. The players drop their drawers, pick their wedgies, pick their noses, dance on tables, chalk their faces, give one another piggybacks, mock, jeer, cackle, and act like asses.
Perhaps the Scots had grown bored with snooker. Their national champion, Stephen Hendry, was so good he won seven world titles in the 1990s. But, otherwise I’m struggling to find the mirth in this puerile send-up. The sketch is available to watch here, starting at 20:18.
Top Lista Nadrealista – [name of segment unknown] (Yugoslavia)
Historians will recall that in 1991 Slovenia and Croatia became the first republics to declare independence from the former Yugoslavia. Around that same time, Top Lista Nadrealista, a Yugoslav sketch comedy show that ran from 1984 to 1991, aired a segment showing two Belgian members of the European Community Monitoring Mission in Bosnia trying to incite a Bosnian Muslim and a Serb, lifelong friends, to start fighting one another during a game of pool at a Sarajevo bar.
The episode is available to watch below, but only in Serbian without subtitles, so I can’t comment on the humor. But, as in Melonville, billiards begets bedlam.
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Teasing the question whether art imitates life, or life imitates art, “pussy on the chain wax” is now a real phrase in Urban Dictionary.
Largely wasted in this sketch, Mr. Candy returned to billiards in 1984, when he starred in one of the best billiards sketch comedies ever, “The Hustler” from the series The New Show.
“Face it, America. You only watch pool because of Jeanette Lee.”
While billiards has always had its share of colorful personalities, perhaps no other player – certainly, no other woman or American – has possessed such magnetism and star power as the Black Widow, aka Jeanette Lee. Combining unapologetic swagger with knockout looks, an eye-catching wardrobe, and exceptional, rapid-fire, pool-playing prowess, Jeanette Lee captured imaginations, provoked controversy, and generated admiration, all while propelling the popularity of billiards in the 1990s and early 2000s.
Whereas many of the sport’s global superstars have had their stories told on screen (e.g., Jimmy White the One and Only; The Strickland Story; Shane Van Boening – The South Dakota Kid; Alex Higgins: The People’s Champion), it took more than 30 years for a biopic of this BCA Hall of Famer to appear. Fortunately, Ursula Liang, director of the award-winning films 9-Man and Down a Dark Stairwell, has gifted us “Jeanette Lee Vs.,” a 50-minute film as part of ESPN’s sports documentary series 30 for 30.
With its jarring, in-your-face title, Jeanette Lee Vs. makes it clear this is no ordinary life history. This is the account of one woman who has been battling opponents – the kids of Crown Heights, the tight-knit players within the Women’s Professional Billiard Association (WPBA), the hound-doggish media, and her biggest rival, a never-ending onslaught of health maladies – determined to undermine or destroy her. At her core, Ms. Lee is an undeterred, imperturbable fighter, which makes her story so compelling.
Jeanette Lee Vs.begins with Ms. Lee’s upbringing in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights. As the only Korean-American girl in a predominantly African-American school, she was mocked with racist taunts, such as “Ching Chong” and “Cholly Wong.” Her father split when she was five; her mother was absent, working around the clock as a registered nurse. She was close with her older sister, Doris, but otherwise developed a chainmail exterior and a fiercely competitive mien. “I wanted to destroy the boys,” she recalls from an early age.
That tough childhood got tenfold worse when she was diagnosed with scoliosis at age 12. “They ripped apart my spine…it destroyed me. I was really tortured…I was in a very bad place,” Ms. Lee recounts.
Sadly, in what has now been well-documented, the scoliosis was just the beginning of a tortuous and agonizing medical journey. Now 51, Ms. Lee has had more than 10 neck and back surgeries. In a 2016 CNN profile, she shared, “I have developed multiple conditions including deteriorated discs, degenerative disc disease, carpal tunnel syndrome and severe sciatic pain. I have bursitis in both shoulders and both hips. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis.” And that was before she learned in 2021 that she had Stage 4 ovarian cancer, which even after six rounds of chemotherapy, has not and will not go into remission.
Jeanette Lee Vs. doesn’t skirt the fact that it is not clear how much longer Ms. Lee has to live. But, the documentary also doesn’t overly dwell on these chapters of her biography. Rather these diseases and their side effects are members of her rogue’s gallery, opponents that she must crush or die trying. Is it any wonder that Ms. Lee was once a spokesperson for Rocawear in their 2008 “I Will Not Lose” campaign?
Back to young Ms. Lee. The teen years were full of drugs, skipping school, and “punching holes in her ears.” It was only the opening of Chelsea Billiards, a 24/7, 15,000 square foot upscale pool palace, that fortuitously gave Ms. Lee a respite from her rebellion. One night, she witnessed straight-pool legend Johnny Ervolino playing, and she was mesmerized and hooked. She became a regular denizen and was fortunate to have billiards great Gene Nagy take her “under his wing.” Though she was “always in pain” and understood billiards was “the last thing she should be doing,” she threw herself into the sport. “Before pool, I wasn’t sure why I was here. I finally found something I loved. Everything changed. I could escape from all the things that made me unhappy.”
As Ms. Lee has often declared in interviews, she turned pro at 21 and became number one in the world 18 months later. It is during this chronicle of time when Jeanette Lee Vs. shines brightest. Her skills and sex appeal drew adulating fans and masturbatory manchilds (seriously – the footage from The Man Show with Adam Corolla putting cornstarch down his pants to ease the genital burn of watching the Black Widow is beyond the pale).
There is no denying Ms. Lee’s incredible billiards skills. She received more than 30 titles and awards between 1993 and 2005, including the WPBA U.S. Open 9-Ball Championship (1994), the 9-Ball Tournament of Champions (1999, 2003), and the gold medal at the World Games 9-Ball Singles in Akita, Japan (2001).
But, as the documentary makes clear, her meteoric rise was also fueled by the times. She discovered billiards right on the heels of The Color of Money, which created a national resurgence of interest in the sport (as well as led to the opening of the aforementioned Chelsea Billiards). ESPN2 had launched in 1993, hungry for programming that would appeal to younger audiences. Women’s billiards became a network staple, anchored by the allure of the Black Widow. For Koreans, who were attacked in the 1992 Los Angeles riots and longed for national icons in a country that now felt more foreign than ever, Ms. Lee personified a can’t stop-won’t stop grit and determination. And for the rest of America, which wasn’t used to seeing Asians on TV, Ms. Lee was a mystery, a modern-day domineering “dragon queen” (an unfortunate phrase that Ms. Lee said she heard more times than she can count). “I started to own the Black Widow,” says a glinting Ms. Lee.
That same persona, however, also provoked the anger and jealousy of her WPBA peers – some of whom are interviewed on-screen – who dismissed her talent and questioned her style and conduct. “I was thoroughly hated,” Ms. Lee shares. At one point, one of Ms. Lee’s opponents anonymously sent her a copy of Dr. Seuss’ Yertle the Turtle, accusing her of “stepping on everyone” to get to the top. Allison Fisher, her one-time “nemesis,” doesn’t mask her emotions when she decries the fame heaped upon Ms. Lee. Ms. Fisher matter-of-factly states she was the better player, yet no one seemed to know.
I can’t but wonder if, during the interview, Ms. Fisher was thinking about the proposed 2015 documentary The Fisher Queens (about Alison, Mandy, and Kelly Fisher, three unrelated snooker champions), which was never made due to the inability to raise more than $11,000. Apparently, there was a lack of interest in her billiards story.
Ms. Liang recognized the potential minefield she was walking in by asking Ms. Fisher, Loree Jon Jones, Kelly Fisher, and others to participate in the documentary. As Ms. Liang shared in an interview with The Moveable Feast:
[I made] a really specific point of asking each of these women in the interview what their reaction was to us doing a 30 for 30 on Jeanette, knowing that there has not been another 30 for 30 done on another female pool player and I think to a person, they each took a pause. Not that many female pool players are getting a documentary period, so I think they all have their opinions about where she falls in greatness in terms of physical skill and that everyone also puts an asterisk next to that, knowing that her career was derailed in some ways by her physical pain.
But they all [also] acknowledge that Jeanette is the most well-known player out there period and she came in at the right moment and she was not only incredibly visible, but incredibly charismatic and whatever she got for herself, she lifted all boats. They were all making more money because of what she was doing, so I think they understood how much she has given to the sport.
Jeanette Lee Vs. is a chronological account of The Black Widow; at the same time, her life and narrative is a complex web. Ms. Lee is the hero of this tale, which sometimes is almost hagiographic. But, she also was forced into the role of villain and otherized as an Asian-American stereotype. Her survival story is one of hope and incredible perseverance, but is also undergirded by loneliness. The story is rich and full of interesting chapters, but it’s also incomplete, at least according to Ms. Lee. Her final sentiments bring no closure, only more questions: “God, if you have a greater purpose for me, tell me. This is not all I was meant to do.”
Jeanette Lee Vs. is available to stream on ESPN. The episode aired in December, 2022.
Last week’s vandalization at the World Snooker Championship was so unprecedented and absurd, it felt like maybe Robert Milkins and Joe Perry were on some UK episode of Punk’d or Saturday Night Live. But as we learned real-time, the guerilla stunt was real. A Just Stop Oil protester had managed to climb on the table, while the Milkins/Perry match was in progress, and spray it with orange powder paint before getting hauled away by security.
Too bad. In a different universe, that would have been the set-up for an uproarious comedy sketch.
While televised snooker desecration is a relatively new phenomenon, televised snooker lampooning goes back five decades, when British comedians, such as Benny Hill and Tommy Cooper, trained their sights on the sport’s formality and increasing popularity.
This was the beginning of the Golden Era of Snooker, a time that has since been memorialized in the 2002 TV movie When Snooker Ruled the World and the 2021 TV series Gods of Snooker. Pot Black broadcast its first snooker tournament on the BBC in 1969. Ray Reardon eclipsed John Pulman as the man to beat. And snooker, having only recently removed its shackles as purely a “gentleman’s sport,” began to grow in popularity as a national pastime and eventually spread overseas. At the era’s peak, the 1985 World Snooker Championship between defending world champion Steve Davis and Dennis Taylor was watched by 18.5 million people – about one-third of the UK’s population.
While my list is surely not exhaustive, the following quintet of sketch comedies, from 1973 to 1986, provides a rollicking ride through snooker’s Golden Era, miscues, sneezes, warts, and all.
The Benny Hill Show – “Spot Black”(December 5, 1973)
Both boorish and brilliant, British comedian Benny Hill was one of the first to satirize snooker in his sketch “Spot Black,” a spoof on the popular snooker broadcast Pot Black. Dressed in an ill-fitting mesh shirt and sporting a mop of wild orange hair, Mr. Hill plays Hurricane Hill (a jab at Alex “Hurricane” Higgins, who won the World Snooker Championship in 1972). His opponent is defending champion Henry McGee. The skit includes almost no dialogue. Most of the six minutes consists of Hill making a variety of disturbing noises and grunts, interspersed with blatant cheating (e.g., giving his opponent a crooked cue, swapping the cue ball for one that doesn’t roll properly) and constant head pats and rubs to the bald-pated referee. It’s a pitch-perfect mockery of the sport’s chivalrous reputation.
Of course, no Benny Hill Show sketch would be complete without the eyeballing, eye-rolling, and eye-goggling that Hill gives to a sexy woman watching the match. Initially distracted, he becomes near paralyzed as she undoes a button of her blouse, rolls up her dress to reveal her garter, and ultimately, applies a dab of perfume to her cleavage. In a premature fit of cuejaculation, Hill loses his focus and misses the ball, spearing the baize. He is disqualified, and the object of his affection goes over to Hill’s opponent, kissing him and leaving the match together. The episode is available to watch here.
The Morecambe & Wise Show – “The 1981 Christmas Show”(December 23, 1981)
Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise were one of Britain’s most loved comedic duos. Their sketch series, The Morecambe & Wise Show, was ranked 14 on the BFI’s list of the 100 Greatest British Television Programs. At the end of 1981, they released “The 1981 Christmas Show” which included a snooker match between Mr. Morecambe and (the real) Steve Davis, who had won the World Snooker Championship earlier that year. The sketch was divided into three segments, interspersed throughout the episode. I was unable to find the first segment, the second segment is on Facebook, and the third segment is here.
The skit’s premise is that Mr. Davis is unable to pot a single ball, whether that’s because Mr. Morecambe is secretly descuffing Mr. Davis’ cue or interrupting his concentration with a loud sneeze. At the same time, Mr. Morecambe is making a series of incredible shots, such as a beautiful masse (in segment two, where the score is 0-40) or a three ball topspin trick shot (in segment three, where the score is now 0-59). Like the Benny Hill sketch, there is almost no dialogue; it’s all sounds, pantomimes, miscues, and stunning snooker shots (clearly made by an off-camera snooker pro). The announcer’s monotone voice-over ties it altogether.
Of course, at that time Mr. Davis had a reputation for being robotic; his manager Barry Hearn described him as having “zero personality” in those early years. Thus, it’s all the more enjoyable to watch Mr. Davis mock himself (and try to suppress a laugh – something he was not able to do in the “Invisible Snooker” sketch a few months later).
The Cannon and Ball Show – “Invisible Snooker”(May 8, 1982)
As its literal title suggests, “Invisible Snooker” was a sketch on The Cannon and Ball Show which pitted (once again, the real) Steve Davis against the comedian Tommy Cannon in an invisible snooker match. (The Cannon and Ball Show was a British comedy variety show featuring the double act of Mr. Cannon and Bobby Ball that ran 1978 to 1988.) The joke is that Mr. Cannon is not in the joke; the match is a ruse hatched by Mr. Davis and Mr. Ball to con Mr. Cannon out of 50 quid. The fourth season sketch is available to watch here.
While the gag runs a bit long, it’s funny because Mr. Ball’s deadpan description of the shots contrasts wildly with Mr. Cannon’s rising frustration that he’s the only one who thinks invisible snooker is absurd. When Mr. Davis pots his final ball and declares himself the winner who is owed 50 quid, Mr. Cannon has his best line:
“You can’t see any balls on the table,” Mr. Davis offers as proof of his victory.
“I can’t see any table!,” retorts Mr. Cannon.
As with The Morecambe & Wise Show sketch, Mr. Davis is a trooper for joining the roast of his own monochromatic foibles, even periodically breaking character to laugh.
Spitting Image – “Steve Davis Rap” (January 27, 1985)
By 1985, Steve Davis was a British household name. He had won the World Snooker Championship in 1981, 1983, and 1984, plus a host of other major titles. Yet, he still had to contend with his reputation for being “boring,” a moniker first given to him by his opponent Alex Higgins.
That’s what makes the “Steve Davis Rap” on the show Spitting Image so raucous. For those unfamiliar with the satirical puppet show, Spitting Image was a mainstay of British TV in the 1980s.1 The series used puppets to satirize British politics, sports, and entertainment. No one was safe from their derision – not Queen Elizabeth II, Margaret Thatcher, Mick Jagger, Princess Diana, Ronald Reagan, Michael Jackson…and certainly not Mr. Davis.
The three-minute rap, available to watch here, features a puppet of Mr. Davis lamenting that he has no nickname and that he should be deemed Steve “Interesting” Davis. The lyrics include a mix of braggadocio, sexual double entendre, and awkward attempts to convince others that he is interesting:
Hey, you’re Tina Turner aren’t you?
You look just like the woman who just moved in next door to my Auntie.
That’s interestin’, innit?
‘Ello, I’m Steve Interstin’ Davis. I’ve got a new record out.
It’s called the Steven Davis Interestin’ Rap. It’s good.
I sing on it. No, I don’t sing, I speak actually.
Here, we had turkey for Christmas, what did you have?
We have lots of turkey every Christmas.
It’s really nice. I like Turkey.
Saturday Live – “Pot Snooker”(March 22, 1986)
Finally, there is a sketch from The Oblivion Boys (Steve Frost and Mark Arden) which appeared on the first season of Saturday Live, a British twist on the more familiar Saturday Night Live. Entitled “Pot Snooker,” yet another send up of the popular series Pot Black, the sketch consists largely of loosely glued together sight gags that deride the formality of snooker. It is available to watch here.
Like the Benny Hill skit thirteen years prior, there is little dialogue; in lieu, there are fake arms, a mechanized ref that slides across the rail of the table, a player sleeping on the table, a player emerging a hole in the table covered in sawdust, and a brief morphing into Robin of Sherwood, another 1980s British TV show.
In this viewer’s opinion, it’s a disappointing bookend to a pentad of parodies. The jokes and gags feel haphazard and recycled; earlier sketches nailed the landing with less effort and more creativity. Maybe it was a sign that the Golden Era of Snooker would soon come to an end.
Fortunately, it was not a sign that the comedic gods were finished deriding the sport. As new superstars would dominate snooker (e.g., Stephen Hendry, Ronnie O’Sullivan), the nineties and the aughts would usher in a new crop of acerbic humorists. Sketch comedy shows, such as Hale & Pace, A Bit of Fry & Laurie, The Fast Show, and one of my favorites, That Mitchell and Webb Look, would bring new levels of ridicule and mimicry. Such is the topic for a future blog post!
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If you grew up on 1980s MTV, you may also recognize the puppetry of Spitting Image in the 1986 “Land of Confusion” video for Genesis.
Anthony Quinn, who won Best Supporting Oscars both for Viva Zapata! and Lust for Life and received Best Actor Oscar nominations for Zorba the Greek and Wild is the Wind.
Fielder Cook, a director who won three Emmys and received five additional Emmy nominations.
Marsha Norman, who received the 1983 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for her play ‘night, Mother.
James Earl Jones, an actor so accomplished that he won the EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) including a Lifetime Achievement Honorary Academy Award.
Mario Van Peebles, the director and star of New Jack City (and son of pioneering director Melvin Van Peebles).
That quintet teamed up in November 1989 for “Third and Oak: Pool Hall,” a don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it, one-time only performance. The show was a televised live theater production that was one of four episodes aired as part of the Arts & Entertainment Network’s anthology series American Playwrights Theater: The One-Acts.
While “Third and Oak: Pool Hall” is hardly the masterpiece that such a quintet seems capable of, the episode still makes for a gem in the annals of billiards television and for some powerful viewing, if you can find it. (More on that later.)
“Third and Oak: Pool Hall” is based on Ms. Norman’s one-act play of the same name. The year is 1978, and the setting is a run-down second floor pool room in Louisville, Kentucky. Mr. Jones plays Willie, the pool hall’s proprietor. Mr. Van Peebles plays “Shooter” Stevens, a radio DJ who is named after his father (Shooter), a nomadic and exceptionally-skilled pool shark until he lost a game and jumped off a bridge to his death.
The elder Shooter and Willie, along with an unseen man named George, were best friends, “more like triplets” or “three blind mice,” as they were often prone to trouble. The younger Shooter is married to George’s daughter Sandra (another unseen character), but their relationship is strained, due to Shooter’s flirtatious proclivities and Sandra’s spending habits. Shooter complains, “I’m a 100% certified wholly-owned slave boy, courtesy of MasterCard.”
Those tensions and connections create a fraught relationship between Willie, the demanding surrogate father figure, and the young Shooter, who questions Willie’s ongoing commitment to George and the pool hall as well as fears being stranded once Willie moves.
If that all sounds a bit soap operatic, you’re not off base. The play is rather convoluted and an excessive amount of banter is devoted to secondhand characters the audience never meets. I doubt I would go watch it off-Broadway.
But, this is James Earl Jones, the O.G. of basso profundos, the voice behind Vader, the man behind Mustafa. He utters his lines with such “gravel and gravitas” that he mesmerizes, even in a semi-forgettable role.1 He is the uber-paterfamilias, even to a child not his own. Moreover, his presence contrasts well with the uncorked energy of Mario Van Peebles, who is helter-skelter, always in motion, ever circling the pool table and setting up shots, but never finishing them. In short, “Third and Oak: Pool Hall” works not because of the story, which is both overly complicated and prosaic, but because of the actors’ chemistry and their visceral tension, each one step away from snapping.
Mr. Quinn, the on-screen pre- and post-host of all four episodes of American Playwrights Theater: The One-Acts, shares that Ms. Norman always walked by the real pool hall at Third and Oak, but never went in. She “imagined the life inside of the places we don’t go into.” It’s that imagination that is the root of the problem.
For starters, there are fundamental racial problems associated with a white woman who is unwilling (or afraid) to go into a black-owned poolroom, but feels comfortable giving voice to its patrons. But aside from that mega hitch, Ms. Norman’s choice never to enter the poolhall means there is no attempt to really understand the mind of the road player, the argot of the pool table, and the impact such a life could have on family and friends. We are left with make-believe, a thin drama that only works because the actors can overcome it.
Billiards enthusiasts, whose hopes may have been raised given the paucity of plays that reference billiards (never mind include “pool” in their title), will undoubtedly feel discontented. With the exception of a brief mention of Ralph Greenleaf and Willie Hoppe, neither the dialogue nor the action reveals any familiarity with the sport. As mentioned earlier, Shooter repeatedly picks up a cue, but he rarely follows through. In fact, there is a scene toward the end in which Shooter attempts to make his father’s famed trick shot, but as he never sets up the shot the same way, it’s an embarrassing attempt at verisimilitude.
Intrigued? Curious to watch? Unfortunately, unless you live in Los Angeles or New York City, you may be shit outta luck. “Third and Oak: Pool Hall” is not available anywhere to stream or purchase, and I could not find any bootleg versions online. However, if you’re in LA or NYC, the Paley Center for Media has the episode in their archives for public viewing.
Many celebrities are known to have picked up a cue stick offscreen.
A small subset (e.g, Dustin Hoffman, Peter Falk, Jackie Gleason, Buster Keaton) have earned praise, even among the billiards community, for their skills.
But, at the top of Mount Celebrity sits the true pantheon of pool players – i.e., those who might run 100 balls straight. This exclusive group includes Mark Twain, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and of course, Fred Astaire, who was known to practice 14:1 in his basement up to six hours a day and was friends with BCA Hall of Famers Dan DiLiberto and Ed Kelly, according to former Billiards Digest Contributing Editor George Fels.1
Mr. Astaire’s pool prowess is legendary, though largely unwitnessed by the general public. However, there is one exception. In 1965, in one of his few television roles, Mr. Astaire played Joe Quinlan, a warm-hearted pool shark, across four episodes of the medical drama television series Dr. Kildare.
Though Dr. Kildare is quaint, maudlin and dated by today’s standards, the four episodes – “Fathers and Daughters” (November 22, 1965), “A Gift of Love” (November 23), “The Tent Dwellers” (November 29), and “Going Home” (November 30) – offer a wonderful lens for watching and appreciating Mr. Astaire, and equally important, for treating billiards with a modicum of respect.
Dr. Kildare is an NBC medical drama series that ran from 1961 to 1966, for a total of 191 episodes over five seasons. Richard Chamberlain, a hitherto unknown actor, played the eponymous doctor and quickly became a star and heartthrob. The episodes occur at the fictional Blair General Hospital, where Dr. Kildare tries to learn his profession, deal with patients’ problems, and win the respect of the senior Dr. Leonard Gillespie (Raymond Massey).
In the episode “Fathers and Daughters,” Sister Laurie Benjamin (Laura Devon), a medical missionary nun, returns from her field work with an advanced state of acute stem cell leukemia. She checks into Blair Hospital and is visited by her father, Joe Quinlan (Astaire), an affable, nomadic pool shark, who is in town for the Invitational Tournament of Champions: World’s Foremost Pocket Billiards Stars, with its $4,000 pot (approximately $38,000 today). Sister Benjamin lauds her father as “an artist – the greatest pocket billiard player in the whole world…on some occasions.” Describing his profession to Dr. Kildare, Quinlan jocularly explains, “My working equipment: a two piece pool cue. The sight of it gives my sister a rash.”
Naturally, Sister Benjamin wishes to conceal the seriousness of her condition from her father; at the same time, her father wishes to downplay the severity of his shortness of breath and unusual chest palpitations, symptoms she soon learns are tied to his coronary heart disease.
In “A Gift for Love,” Quinlan fails to show up for his scheduled EKG. Seeking to locate the absent patient, Dr. Kildare goes to the local pool room and learns that in only a week it will become the setting for an “elite” matchup, including “Ulysses ‘The Burglar’ Jackson from Newark New Jersey, Phil Carmichael from Detroit, Deacon Otis Potts of Kansas City, and the great Joe Quinlan, 16 superstars in all.”
Quinlan is located and teases us with a couple of shots, but he is ultimately brought back to the hospital, where he befriends Francis Healy (Harry Morgan, who would later become famous as Colonel Potter in M*A*S*H). Healy tells Quinlan there is another patient, Mr. Gaffney, who has taken a lot of money off of Healy in some not-so-friendly games of pool. Healy asks for Quinlan’s help getting some of his money back. “Gaffney has two-thirds of the money in this state. He’s greedy and looking for blood. You could flub half a dozen shots and still beat this guy with a broomstick in your hand.” Sympathetic to Healy’s situation, Quinlan agrees to play, so long as he personally does have to bet any money.
In the penultimate “The Tent Dwellers” episode, we get to see Astaire, the master, at work. Quinlan plays Gaffney in a straight pool game to 50. His shots are effortless. There is a beautiful combination that prompts Gaffney to initially say, “You make it and I will eat it like an egg, swallowing the thing whole.” (He makes it, though no cue ball is consumed.) The episode largely serves to enforce both Quinlan’s billiards skills and, more important, his altruism.
While the medical staff chastise him for risking his health, Quinlan beseeches the doctors to give him a more honest assessment of his daughter’s health. Knowing her condition is worsening and concerned about her mounting hospital expenses, he says to no one, “Spare Laurie for those who need her most. Take a clown like me.”
Finally, in “Going Home,” Quinland disappears from the hospital once more. It’s no secret he has gone to compete in the tournament. Dr. Kildare and Healy follow. Naive to the sport, Dr. Kildare watches with awe as Healy explains the skill required to set up shots and run the table, and the economics behind the game, which often exist outside the main action. Healy surmises that Quinlan has “hocked everything but the sterling hair in his ears” to get in on action with big investors in order to ensure he has the means to pay for his daughter’s medical expenses.
SPOILER ALERT. The final match pits Quinlan against Ulysses Jackson (Harold ‘Red’Baker).2 The back-and-forth match gives both men a chance to demonstrate their skills. (Note: Mr. Astaire reportedly insisted on playing all his own pool on-camera – i.e., no cutaway hand shots – as a condition for appearing in the episodes.) Perspiring and periodically clutching at his chest, Quinlan ultimately wins the match, though he passes away shortly thereafter.
Sister Benjamin, whose leukemia has miraculously gone into remission, is able to leave the hospital. She retrieves her father’s cue and case as a keepsake of his memories, but not before dispensing some billiards advice to a practicing player. It’s a fitting coda; a hopeful suggestion that the spirit and power of billiards can transcend the individual and pass to the next generation.
The four episodes from the fifth season of Dr. Kildare are available to purchase on DVD. They are also streaming online at Stremio; however, if you live in either New York or Los Angeles, you can watch them, as I did, at the Paley Center for Media.
According to cuemaker Rick Geschrey, Red Baker was a top pocket billiards and three-cushion player. He “could beat top pros in money games on a regular basis. He competed with the likes [of] Greenleaf, Mosconi, Cochran and Hoppe and many others…Baker was on close terms with many in Hollywood and was often called in as a billiard consultant and stand-in. Close-ups of his hands have appeared in many television and movie sequences.”
Perhaps, my most prized physical possession is an eight-foot Olhausen Monarch pool table that I received as a gift when I turned 40. It’s an utter beauty, and it fulfilled a wish that started in college when I cut my first classes to play pool. As it happens, it also sparked my current avocation — blogging about billiards movies and television episodes.
With the holiday season upon us, now may be the time to give the gift of billiards and purchase a pool table – for the mancave, for the spouse-to-be, for the future Mosconi, for the family. The occasion does not matter; if it fits the house and the wallet, a pool table is a must-have.
Or so I thought until I culled through the annals of pool table presents in pop culture. Unfortunately, the writers and directors behind some of the most relevant gifts in billiards-themed media have a rather different impression.
The 1950s-1960s
The bad press began in 1956, but I cannot tell you why. The economy was strong, unemployment was down to 4.5%, and all that disposable income was fostering a love affair with consumerism.
Nonetheless, in the April 1956 “Bad Companions” episode of The Goldbergs, one of television’s first family sitcoms, Uncle David brings home a new pool table as a “fabulous gift for the whole family.” But, it becomes an instant headache, since neither family nor friends can, or are allowed, to play. David recruits some “professors” from the local pool hall to teach him, unaware they are hustlers. As David’s house becomes ground zero for horse gambling and other nefarious activities, he is ultimately ensnared in a raid and decried by the judge as “the dupe of unsavory characters.” That might put your future pool table munificence in check.
One month later, the “Opportunity Knocks But” episode of The Honeymooners aired. Ralph Kramden’s boss receives a new pool table as an anniversary gift from his wife. Not knowing how to play, he invites Ralph (and ultimately Norton) to come over to teach the finer points of the game. While Ralph seizes on the invitation as an opportunity for endless sycophancy, Norton shoehorns his way into the game so he can pitch business ideas that ultimately lead to Norton getting selected over Kramden for a coveted job. Now that is bad billiards mojo.
The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet rounded out the year with the “Pool Table” episode. After Ozzie buys a pool table from the local department store, his playing plans are continually thwarted as he realizes he does not have a location for it. The pool table’s peregrination goes from the dining room to the kitchen to the garage to the outside yard and even to a neighbor’s house. Ultimately, Ozzie jerry-rigs a pulley system to haul the table up to the attic, but the table’s weight causes it to crash through the floor into the kids’ bedroom, rendering it largely useless for anyone taller than three feet.
Apparently the 1960s were consumed by other notable hobbies and activities, such as playing with GI Joes (1964) and Easy Bake Ovens (1963), watching the first Super Bowl (1966), or contorting to Twister (1966), as I could find no billiards gift-giving exemplars during the decade.
1970s-1990s
But, by the 1970s, the billiards bestowal was back in cultural vogue, starting with the 1973 Sanford and Son episode “A House is Not a Poolroom,” which opens with Lamont getting his father Fred a pool table for his birthday. The present is so well-received that Lamont can neither get his father away from the table to attend to his family responsibilities, nor can he get any peace and privacy in the house, since his father’s gaggle of friends have now ‘moved in’ to use the table. Sadly, the magnetism of the table becomes such a problem that he must ultimately get rid of it.
The 1974 “The Hustler” episode of The Brady Bunch revealed Bobby Brady’s knack with a cue after his father brings home a pool table as a thank-you gift from his boss Mr. Matthews. Bobby trounces his brothers in 9-ball, thereby winning a month of free shoe-cleaning. But the real fun comes when Mr. Matthews visits the house and is subsequently thrashed by Bobby on the table, losing 256 packs of chewing gum in a wager. Unfortunately, for the squeaky-clean Brady clan, the home is no place for such games of sin, and the table is promptly returned.
After The Brady Bunch episode aired, a 30-year drought of billiards benevolence ensued. Pool hustling was all the rage in television and film, and nary a table appears to have been gifted.
2000s – present
That deficit was corrected in the mid-aughts, starting with Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston swapping barbs and bile in the 2006 movie The Break-Up, with each partner trying to outmaneuver the other in a bid to keep their luxurious condo. In one seminal scene, Vaughn’s character declares, “My whole life I always wanted my own place with my own pool table. I finally got my own place, but you would not allow me to get my own pool table. I figured I’d rectify that today.” As expected, this self-gifting causes a maelstrom of subsequent damage, with Aniston’s character violently ejecting his possessions from the room.
Finally, there is the little-watched series Gary Unmarried. At the center of the 2008 episode, “Gary Gets His Stuff Back,” is a pool table, which Gary gave to his ex-wife Allison as a paper anniversary gift, and now he threatens to reveal racy photographs of her if she doesn’t return it to him. Though the table leads to blackmail and burglary, there is a silver lining, as both characters divulge that the true reason they want the table is because of all the good memories associated with it.
Maybe that’s the underlying lesson from almost 70 years of billiards largesse on the silver screen. Regardless of what agonies and horrors are associated with the gift, pool tables are the loci of wonderful experiences. Movies and television are make-believe, but pool tables as great gifts are most definitely very real.
At least since 1953, when Pathé News produced the 75-second film“Billiard Balls,” there have been documentaries, and later reality series, detailing the manufacturing and production of all the key components of billiards.
So, it’s hardly a surprise that with all the attention shined on billiards equipment, producers would turn their attention to the sport’s homemade arena: the game room (or the billiard room, as fans of Clue might call it). Two series currently streaming on Discovery+, Color Splash and Stone House Revival, assume all the billiards gear is present and functional; it’s the room you need to build and design to play the game!
Color Splash – “Game On!”
Color Splash is an American home improvement series that aired on HGTV for eight seasons, from 2007 through 2012. Hosted by the affable and ever-increasingly tattooed designer David Bromstad, Color Splash focuses on giving rooms unforgettable makeovers through the dramatic use of color.
In the July 2007 episode “Game On!,” Mr. Bromstad and his accomplice, color specialist and carpenter Danielle Hirsch, are tasked with transforming an uninspiring, outdated game room into modern “man’s room but also for the family.” The room already has a pool table and an upright Mario Bros. arcade game, but per the wife’s direction, it needs to not only be comfortable, but also “warm and inviting.”
Mr. Bromstad’s thesis is that a man’s space is “ literally a sectional couch, refrigerator, a TV, a pool table – awesome… everything else is just fluff so we need to make sure it’s not too fluffy.” He then goes deep into picking masculine greens and reds, creating customized valances, and building shelves to organize the electronics.
But, since the billiards table is still central to the room’s design, he also leaves them with a picture of an eightball that he painted for them. “Because [the owner] absolutely loves pool, I wanted to do something he really loves.”
Stone House Revival – “1760 Classic Colonial Parlor”
If you own a historic house around Bucks County, Pennsylvania, then the man you want to see is Jeff Devlin and the series you might appear on is Stone House Revival. Hosted by Mr. Devlin, Stone House Revival follows Jeff and his team of restoration experts who work with homeowners to help revive dilapidated structures into modern living spaces while preserving their historic integrity. The series ran from 2015 to 2021 on the DIY Network.
In the May 2016 episode “1760 Classic Colonial Parlor,” Mr. Devlin focuses on a Colonial home in Ivyland, Pennsylvania that was initially built in 1760 and then had a farmhouse added to it in 1810. Decrepit as it may be, the farmhouse has real entertainment potential. The homeowners wish to convert it into two unique, usable spaces: a parlor and a billiards room.
As we learn from the pop-up historical notes, “billiard tables were popular in colonial America, dating back to 1722.” Mr. Devlin then proceeds to “turn [this] unused space into a really fun, functional billiard room” by adding a one-of-a-kind custom light pendant atop the pool table, adding dentil crown molding around the ceiling as a “nod to the time period,” redoing the floor slats with random width pine to match the parlor room, and exposing the original stone of a cabinet’s interior. Oh yeah, he also wall mounts a billiard cue rack.
Unfortunately, the actual billiards table – an unidentified, black-felted wooden one – becomes a bit of an afterthought, assembled in the background and otherwise unaddressed.
Meticulously selected, elegantly framed, perfectly lit, and cinematographically fine-tuned, the specific locale can be as memorable and essential as the actors, songs, script, or action.
Consider the old Ames Billiards Academy, a second-floor loft in the Claridge Hotel on West 44th in Times Square, that was home to the epic showdown between Fast Eddie Felson and Minnesota Fats in The Hustler. Or, the iconic, vintage Chris’s Billiards in Jefferson Park, Chicago, where Vince first duels with Grady Seasons in The Color of Money. For TruTV’s series The Hustlers, Steinway Billiards in Queens, New York, featured so prominently it was almost an hour-long advertisement. I don’t remember much about Penance except the awesome appearance of Top Shot Billiards in Alberta, where the movie was filmed in entirety.
Presumably, most venues would jump at the chance for this kind of product placement. But, when those starring roles don’t come knocking, there is always the last resort to create one’s own show. Such is the playbook Gotham City Billiards Club (GCBC) adopted in May 2016 when it launched the web series Gotham City Grind, featuring their Avenue U pool hall in Brooklyn as the homebase.
Unfortunately, there are many good reasons why this path is not well-worn (e.g., cost, production value, lack of human interest, etc). All of these reasons are on vivid display when one suffers through any of the four webisodes in the series.
Gotham City Grind opens with the voice-over, “This is not your average pool hall. It may look like it, but Gotham City Billiards has an untold story, and our story begins with some of our usual players.”
While the proclamation is well-intentioned, the series never actually tells the untold story. Fine, whatever. The far greater gaffe is presuming that the “usual players” have a story that is interesting to anyone outside the pool hall’s doors.
The first webisode, “Never Give Up,” focuses on Thomas Rice, a 17-year-old who turned to pool to counter his ADHD and struggles in school. Rice says, “I couldn’t focus in school and as soon as pool came into my life, it changed everything… started focusing better, winning tournaments, hanging out with the right kids not the wrong kids.” He then plays some nineball and prepares for an upcoming tournament.
That’s great, admirable even, but it’s hardly engaging video-watching. Maybe that’s why the webisode then abruptly shifts focus to Brooklyn denizen and actor William DeMeo, who is in town to promote his new film Back in the Day. (He was Jason Molinaro in seasons 5-6 of The Sopranos.) But, this is also a dead-end, an irrelevant cameo, unrelated to Thomas Rice, to GCBC, or even to billiards. We’re basically watching a pool hall promote itself promoting a straight-to-cable film that no one has heard of.
The second webisode, “American Dream,” is even worse; I found myself wistfully hoping for another D-list celebrity pop-up. Instead, we meet Koka Davladse from the Republic of Georgia. He is a “regular player with an infectious laugh” who came to America to study and play pool because “Georgia is dead, no tournaments, no payouts.” He has not seen his family in five years.
Awash with pathos, we then follow Koka’s storyline as it abruptly veers into a ten-round game of nineball against an opponent named Jerry T. Koka wins, and the narrator rewards us with the platitude, “It takes courage and determination to follow your dreams. You have to want it bad enough. Most won’t even try, but whether you fail or succeed in the process, you have to believe in yourself.”
Stunned by such banality, I could not bring myself to watch the remaining two episodes, “Love for Pool” and “Legacy.”
If you learn the untold story to GCBC, send it my way; otherwise, don’t waste your time grinding it out with Gotham City Grind.
Since the dawn of the green baize, there have been animals playing billiards: Johnny “Scorpion” Archer. Alex “The Lion” Pagulayan. Jeanette “Black Widow” Lee. Horace “Groundhog” Godwin. Steve “The Whale” Melnyk. The zoological roll call of billiards monikers can go on and on.
The Secret of Magic Island
But, nicknames aside, animals have throughout the years picked up the cue stick to entertain. For example, costumed monkeys were shooting pool in an uncredited film from the 1930s. Far stranger is the 1957 French film, The Secret of Magic Island, in which real rabbits play pool (along with a picture-snapping dog and a motorbike-riding frog). Mister Ed, that famous TV Palomino, pocketed a shot in the eponymous 1964 episode “Ed the Pool Player.” Today, it seems every animal even wants its 15 fifteen minutes of fame; YouTube is rife with homemade videos of dogs, cats, and squirrels shooting stick.
Well, this billiards menagerie better make some room. In the television episodes and short film below, there’s an international vivarium of dogs, chickens, toads, badgers, weasels, pigs, tigers, wolves, and bears ready to pot some shots.
Mad Dogs
Throughout the UK – and splattered across the internet – are kitschy paintings of dogs playing pool in pubs. This canine camp provided the perfect inspiration for the creative trio at Gadzooks Animation. Released in 2019, their film Mad Dogs is a seven-minute, stop-motion, animated film in which a nonet of regional British dogs discuss the quintessentials of British culture while drinking beers and shooting pool in a pub. Mad Dogs was created in response to Article 50, an open invitation to artists, commissioned by Sky Arts, the British 24-hour television channel, to define who the British are as a nation. It is available to watch here.
The pint-drinking pack includes an English Foxhound, Afghan Hound, West Highland Terrier, English Bulldog, Old English Sheepdog, Scottish Terrier, Welsh Terrier, English Bull Terrier, and a Welsh Corgi. Each speaks with a specific regional accent. The dogs’ personalities are wonderfully distinct, and the dialogue hits the right mix of pride and pretense.
My only gripe with Mad Dogs is after the English Bull Terrier takes its shot and rips the baize! How this faux pas doesn’t incite the crowd to a heightened level of rabble-rousing rabidity is the real unanswered question.
Chicken Stew
Cartoon history is replete with famous rivalries: Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. Tweetie Pie and Sylvester the Cat. Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. To this list, add the chicken trio (Uncle Wattles, Free Range, and Small Fry) and weasel duo (Slim and Glutton) of the Chinese animation series Chicken Stew.
First aired in 2009, Chicken Stew focuses on the weasels’ harebrained schemes in hapless pursuit of an elusive chicken dinner. In the 2011 episode “Blame It On Billiards,” available to watch (in Chinese) here, Uncle Wattles and Free Range are competing in a friendly, albeit dishonest, game of billiards. Tables are tilted, pockets are relocated, but it’s all in good fun, until Slim and Glutton try to weasel their way into the game. While their disguises work, their plans fall apart. Bombs go off, flying nunchaku come out, cue sticks are brandished, and poor ol’ Glutton gets a multi-billiard ball ass-whupping.1
Wind in the Willows
Noone likes to be told he’s a “social calamity,” least of all Mr. Toad, whose failure to understand the game of bridge leads him to purchase a billiards table, “a game no gentleman’s residence should be without.”
That’s the setup for “Champion of the Baize,” the 1987, Season 3 episode of Wind in the Willows, a British stop-motion animated series based on Kenneth Grahame’s classic children’s novel of the same name. The full episode is available to watch here.
https://youtu.be/IPDY7TQv0KU
While this dapper amphibian certainly has the means to buy the table, Mr. Toad is too proud to admit he has no idea how to play the game. This leads to some fairly jovial banter with Mole and Rat, who attempt to explain what a rest is, how to chalk one’s cue (or “pole”), and why the object of the game is not to bounce the ball off as many “things” as possible.
But, when two weasel passersby hear the “sound of ivory on ivory,” they challenge Mr. Toad to a game of snooker, and that’s when his vainglory becomes more of a problem. Flattered by the weasels, Mr. Toad is hustled into wagering his motorcar, which he quickly loses to the more skillful opponent. However, in a scene reminiscent of the Fresh Prince episode“Banks Shot,” Mr. Toad’s elderly friend Badger requests a match, feigns ignorance about the required sequence to pot the snooker balls, and then proceeds to hustle the weasel in a 7-0 run, promptly winning back the auto.
For all its British formality, “Champion of the Baize” is a wonderfully enjoyable television episode that shows a great appreciation for snooker. A considerable number of minutes is devoted to the matches, in which backspin features prominently and the shots are at least somewhat realistic in their execution.
Masha and the Bear
“That’s Your Cue” is a seven-minute billiards episode from the Russian animated television series Masha and the Bear. Join 11.6 million other viewers (!!) to watch the Season 3 episode on YouTube.
First aired in July 2018, “That’s Your Cue” begins with Whiskers n’ Stripes, a Siberian Tiger, visiting his circus friend, a retired Kamchatka brown bear, in the forest and surprising him with a billiards table. They decide to hold a billiards tournament, and quickly enter the forest to source players.
While they’re gone, three-year-old Masha enters the bear’s house and innocently swaps the billiards balls with a set of numbered blocks. When the tiger and bear return, along with six additional competitors – a Himalayan black bear, two gray wolves, a she-bear, a cat, and Rosie the pig – they are startled to find the balls missing. But, the tiger is undeterred and convinces his furry brethren to improvise and use the blocks as balls instead.
So begins the elimination tournament that ultimately ends with Rosie pocketing cubes one through seven in a single break and then sinking the eight-cube to beat his gargantuan opponent, the Himalayan bear.
That rounds out our billiards animal kingdom. To the best of my knowledge, no animals were harmed in the shooting of these billiards sequences…though more than a few had their egos bruised.
******
For other cartoon nemeses battling on the baize, check out Tom and Jerry (“Cue Ball Cat”) or Woody Woodpecker and Buzz Buzzard (“Cue the Pool Shark”).
Go online and search for ‘grandmothers playing billiards (or snooker).’ Aside from an article about Grandma Fatma, Turkey’s oldest snooker fan, or a Maltese nonagenarian who likes Stephen Hendry, the pickings are slim. Yet, the concept has a certain hip factor, as evidenced by the variety of available merch emblazoned with slogans such as, “Some Grandmas Play Bingo; Real Grandmas Play Pool,” “Never Underestimate the Power of a Grandma Who Plays Pool,” and my favorite, “My Grandma Will Break Your Balls.”
As snooker fever envelopes Chiseltown, Campbell sets up the Chiseltown Snooker Championship, which ultimately draws the attention of Mr. McBigg, a resident gangster, who wagers 50,000 pounds (approximately $135,000 USD today). The match is supposed to feature Cat Burglar against McBigg’s stakehorse, Hot Shot Houlihan. But, complications ensue, leading to McBigg playing SuperGran, a last-minute substitute for Cat Burglar. Though McBigg initially disparages her as “the Tartan twit that jumps through walls,” he quickly becomes mum, as SuperGran runs 147 points for a perfect break. 
