Duel to the death across green baize

THERE'S a strangely nonchalant way Steve Davis has of sitting while his opponent is at the table: right ankle resting on left knee, snooker cue propped in the hollow of bent right knee, eyes staring expressionlessly ahead.

He was getting plenty of chance to practice this pose against young gun Matthew Stevens - because Stevens it was who appeared determined to hog all the table time. He was already one frame up in their best-of-17 frames second-round match - and he was running away with the second frame too.

As his break skimmed through the 60s, 70s and 80s and on into the 90s, Davis seemed to become more and more disinterested, while the watching crowd grew hushed and expectant. Were we going to see a century?

Stevens, dapper all in black and sporting what seemed like a little puppy fat, potted a red to take his break to 95. It was black into the middle for a ton.

He missed. "O-o-o-o-h!" gasped the audience, sighing out its disappointment.

But Stevens didn't mind. He was two frames to the good and Davis was reeling.

The main auditorium of the Barbican is almost unrecognisable this week. It's hushed and darkened, the only light in the great hall coming from the lamps hanging above the four snooker tables placed side-by-side along its length.

Each table is separated from its neighbour by a partition, creating four small, brightly-lit theatres in the larger gloom, theatres in which players duel to the death across the green baize.

The only sound in the great auditorium is the rich click of snooker ball on snooker ball, the muted voices of the referees intoning the score, and the occasional gasp or ripple of applause from the audience who occupy the sweeping expanse of seats up one side.

Order of play on Thursday morning was Mark Williams against Nick Dyson on table one, Davis against Stevens on two, Ken Docherty versus Terry Murphy on table three, and Dave Harold v Dave Finbow on four.

It was obvious who the crowd had come for. Seats at the far end were almost empty - but in front of the Davis/ Stevens match, there was hardly a seat going begging.

It seemed as though the old warhorse could be in a for a drubbing, though. Six times world and six times UK champion he may be - but Davis looked strained and tentative on his few approaches to the table before Stevens racked up a 55 break that put him within sniffing distance of a 3-0 lead.

Davis wasn't going to give up without a fight. Two reds and two blues took him to 12, a red and a pink to 19, another red and another blue to 25.

Between each shot he studied the table carefully, chalking his cue. After potting the blue, he'd sent the cue ball round the table to get on another red, half hidden by the pink. It was a make-or-break shot. He made it, followed by another blue, to reach 31. There was a ripple of applause.

It was just the colours left, now: but it wasn't going to be an easy clearance. They were all out of position, the black tucked up tight against a cushion. He sank yellow, green, brown and blue. "Forty-five," said the referee. The tension mounted. The pink went down next, the cue ball screwing around the table to bring him up on the black. It was black for the frame: but a difficult shot.

Davis pondered, inscrutable. He chalked his cue. He bent to the table. He missed. "Ooooh" gasped the crowd, again.

There was a spell of safety play, as the two players jostled for position on the black - then Stevens sank it. Davis sagged, ever so slightly: 3-0.

The fourth frame was a tactical one. At the next table, Mark Williams racked up a break of 121 as he raced to a 6-2 interval lead over Nick Dyson. But all eyes were on Stevens and Davis. Again, Stevens raced to an early lead with a 43 break. Davis hit back, before miscuing on the yellow. The players matched scores in a scrappy exchange: 52-all. More safety play, each player trying to grind out the advantage. Stevens snaffled the green, then the brown, then the blue to take a 70-60 lead. Just the pink and black left for a 4-0 frames lead.

Then he left the pink hanging invitingly over a pocket. Davis' weariness dropped away. He stepped up, potted it cleanly, then the black too. Applause rippled around the auditorium.

"That was a good frame," said Tim Barton, knowledgeably, out in the foyer as the players took a break. "It was very tactical. On the other table it was fast and fluent, but that was just pure tactics." He nodded, approvingly.

Tim, who's 26 and from Scarborough, admitted he wanted Davis to win. "I don't know, all these young guys seem to be taking over at the moment," he said. "It would be nice to see Davis back."

Tim's friend, former table table-tennis international turned York guest-house owner Steve Tracey, 45, was rooting for Stevens. "He's one of the new breed of players," he said. "But he's got the look about him. Davis has been there and done that. Guys like Stevens are clearly the new breed and it shows."

Both agreed, however, that the Barbican is a great venue. "It's fabulous to see the championship here in York - and it is great national exposure for the city," said Steve.

Over in the Cue Zone - a great white marquee set up on the Barbican's first-floor balcony - I decided to try my hand at potting. Beneath the flapping marquee four snooker tables are set out: and Harrogate pro Steve Prest is on hand to offer novices a few expert tips.

He's the right man to do it. He is, after all, coach to the Iceland national team, as he was quick to tell me, as well as resident pro at the Manhattan Snooker Club in Harrogate.

The way he got my snooker action sorted out in a couple of minutes flat was little short of a marvel. He adjusted my stance, told me how to bridge, and how to line my body up properly. Don't look at the cue ball, he instructed, look at the ball you're going to pot as you line up. I did as he told me, keeping my eyes focused on the back of the target ball as I smoothly followed through with the cue. Cue ball smacked into target ball with a sweet click. It ran the length of the table and dropped with a gentle plop and rattle into the corner pocket.

I blinked with delighted surprise and looked at him. "You see?" he grinned. And I did.

You'd better watch out, Steve Davis. It might be me gunning for you at the Barbican next year.

</bullet> There is no play today because the Barbican is being rigged up for TV coverage, which starts on the BBC on Saturday, when play resumes.

</bullet> Access to the Cue Zone - and coaching from Steve Prest - are free to ticket-holders.

Updated: 12:15 Friday, December 07, 2001