Last weekend was the English Women's Snooker Championships. Sounds posh and fancy right? Hmmm!
For those Chumlins who don't know, which is probably most of you actually, Nat plays snooker, she is by all accounts quite good at snooker. She is however, quite new to snooker, so what else does any normal sane person new to snooker do? Not sign up to the English Women's Snooker Championships I would imagine.
What does Nat do? Sign up to the English Women's Snooker Championships of course!
I am obviously an uber awesome supportive girlfriend of immense proportions so off we go...to Northampton, a 2 and a half hour drive, in theory...
Well well, aren't motorways marvellous places to drive, not!
Aren't motorway service stations wonderful places full of joy and wonder and reasonable prices that don't try and starve you to death, no!
But at least long drives mean some wonderfully random conversations, and lots of laughs. Oh I swear I could make millions just recording conversations in this car! Hmm, now there's a thought!
Nat is a terrible backseat driver, only she's in the front, as a passenger, a front seat passenger driver?! She is really rather annoying, in a cute couple kinda way, ish... I threatened to kick her out of the car quite a lot. I even stopped the car until she stopped nagging, that didn't really work....the minx. Good job I love her, aww! (and shh, but she is usually right. Don't tell her though, we will fall out if you do. You and I, not Nat and I, obviously, she'll just get mahoosive head syndrome and be a bit unbearable).
We arrived at our hotel, we arrived 4 times in fact, if by arrive you mean drove past repeatedly staring longingly, in an attempt to find where the car park was as it was all double yellows outside and a delightful one way system type thing.
The car park was round the back, obviously, but the back was down a very scarily bumpy potholey back alley type thing. We nearly died, I am pretty sure of it, mostly, kinda. The car park, however, was quite pleasant, like a little courtyard type. Oo la la.
The room was pleasant enough, and if you like staying over in Grandma's old style outdated bedroom then you will bloody love the place, but it was cheap and 2 minutes down the road from the snooker place, also it would have a hot shower, which we currently don't have, and a comfy bed so mustn't grumble.
OK, so the bed wasn't the most comfortable, and it made noises when you move, also...two pillows?! Who only has two pillows? OK, I'm not talking those bloody lovely thick fluffy wonderful ones but the thin, paper ones...oh well...OK, I don't moan, right? I am uber girlfriend this weekend.
Nat rings the snooker place and speaks to an absolute genius...
She tries to book a table to practice tonight. Sounds simple enough?
Wrong.
He tells her that she doesn't need to book a table for the championships, it's already sorted....
It took a quite a long while to explain to him she wanted to practice, tonight. He really couldn't understand it. Hmm.
We also couldn't eat as they had a party of 100?
Well, this was sounding promising....
I tell you what, Nat has balls... We went to the snooker place, and I'm nervous enough just walking in and she goes and plays bloody snooker, which is at the best of times still considered a man's sport.
The place is nice enough, it's a pub type, with a large snooker hall in the back, it's you know, snooker hall looking, but the tables aren't that great and there are knob head types about, or perhaps I'm uncomfortable and therefore not a people person. Shocker right?!
In an absolute shock move though Nat only practices for just under 2 hours and we get to eat actual food. I don't think this has ever happened before. Normally when it is snooker practice time I am in a starvation puddle somewhere while Nat forgets the existence of food, probably the world. She has steel focus I tell ya.
We even go back to the hotel room before midnight and watch some TV in bed. I don't care how old I sound, this was actual bloody bliss.
Would you like to know what time she set the alarm my little Chumlins? On a weekend, a weekend away...
6.30
6 bloody 30 am!
I am pretty sure this time is illegal on a weekend. When did it even start existing?!
The morning plan was this;
6.30 alarm
7 breakfast
7.45 back to the room for shower, getting ready etc
8.30 leave the hotel room
We need to be at the snooker hall for 9...it's a 2 chuffin minute walk. But I am uber supportive amazing girlfriend so I don't complain, much.
Breakfast....now, I like my cooked breakfast, but I have 1 rule; it is not a proper cooked breakfast unless it has a minimum of 2 sausages. Would you like to know what was on my plate? Would you?
1. I repeat, 1 sausage. 1. And...3 bacon?! 3 bacon, who needs that much bacon? Now I like bacon as much as the next person but 3? How can you properly ratio your breakfast with 1 sausage and 3 bacon? Impossible. The actual horror.
Tasty though.
We get to the snooker hall, and, well, nothing. There were no signs, posters, hint that there was going to be a big women's snooker competition held here in under an hour. How I am supposed to walk in like a WAG with amazing curly hair and awesome sunglasses when there is no sniff of eventness (even though actually I am so uncomfortable walking in to these places and act more like a scared little groupie, sigh).
This competition is being run by the EPSB, the English Partnership for Snooker and Billiards, the big proper snooker people to you and I, you know, the ones who run the men's events, on TV, in venues where I imagine they care they exist.
If this was their attempt at equalling the field and showing that women's snooker is taken seriously, they failed, badly. By the end of the event I was writing angry letters, in my head, obviously, never to be sent or seen, but the intention was there so, ya know...I obviously mean business...
The start, the meeting that was being held before the event, the reason we had to be there for 9 for a 9.30 start, the reason I was up at 6 bloody 30 am, was, quite honestly, an absolute joke and quite uncomfortable to watch, even from an 'outsider' perspective. The players asked about rules, like the snooker missing one and how many times the ball can be reset, they didn't know, they asked how many frames for the finals, they didn't know. The players honestly, genuinely, talked between themselves to decide this stuff, I shit you not! I am pretty sure I could run this event, I think, in my head, silently watching from a back corner...but totally agreeing and getting annoyed with them, again, silently, in my head...
Cute badges were then given out to go on the waistcoats, like has happened at every other event. Nope! Got ya there didn't I! Nothing was given out. If I had turned up all suited and booted there would be no different between me and the players. None. Except, you know, I can just about hit a ball and do a little celebratory squeal when I do. How on earth am I supposed to make a cute little uber supportive girlfriend memory wall if they don't give me anything to add to it? What would you like me to take, the radiator? (this will make way more sense if you read on, promise!)
They didn't even take a group photo. There is always a group photo. You know, for social media, and families and promotion and stuff. And so us groupies can groupie around and take proud people photos and feel all special and a part of it. Nope, nothing. There wasn't any photos anywhere that I can find, I can't even find any real information about the event even existing, so, no group photo to add here guys, sorry! To be fair to the nice older man who seemed to be running the event, he went round and took a few photos of game play 'just in case they wanted any'. Clearly they didn't
No worries, though, I became a true snooker photo taking genius and got some cracking amazing shots, if I do say so myself. Take that none memory wall badge giving people, take that!
Now, remember when I said the snooker hall was huge? Yes, lovely as it was, it also meant there were lots of other people there, playing on their own tables. All is fine and dandy with that, if the event that was being held had some form of definitive area and had actual boards up or something. But nope, nothing like that here. One player, a top 10 women's world snooker player, was asked by a random just for fun playing guy to move so he could take his shot, while she was just going down (not like that, naughty!) to take her own shot. Speechless, fucking, speechless! This also meant that they didn't really have proper seating areas meaning it was kind of a big game of weird musical chairs with a bit of musical statues thrown in for good measure. Least it got me my steps in I guess.
To be fair, there were absolutely no indications there was an event happening, no banners, pop ups, signs, those lovely little name signs that go on the boards to show who's points are living where, you know, so if you are a complete moron and don't see all the women dressed in trousers, shoes, shirts and waistcoats, match balls, audience members clearly watching and the lone 14 year old referee with his match triangle I guess it's easy to not notice the event. *Insert hugely massive eye roll here!*
Side note, not even a poster I can 'borrow' for my wall. Not even a poster guys. They are seriously ruining my groupie style and making it very hard to, erm, group.
The heating. Good God the heating. Every table has a radiator by it, there is approximately ten thousand tables, and every radiator is blasting out a hundred degree heat. Where is the only place to watch from? By the radiator. I am melting. Nat is melting. Everyone there is melting. They can't turn the radiators down, the thermostat is broken. Seriously. That's what we were told. So they open a door. a teeny tiny door, at the furthest point from the competition as physically possible. Add that to the musical chairs statues game and this was practically a fucked up weight loss boot camp. Which would be lovely, if any weight loss happened, but instead it was just the torture of it all without the results. Supportive girlfriend! Honest!
I couldn't get food you know, I'm pretty sure they were starving us out. Apparently you need a table number to order food, I'm part of the tournament, I don't have a table number as they keep changing. Oh well, you can't order food. Thanks! It's not like this is an all day tournament, actually lasting 12 hours and I'm being uber supportive girlfriend so am watching the whole thing or anything is it?! Who needs food anyway? I got to eat last night! What more do I want. Steel focus, eyes on the prize, well, the tables.
Hmm, maybe I should have brought little banner triangle things. Not to eat, obviously, to be uber girlfriend. Ooh, food would have been a good idea to bring though. Must remember that. Oh wait, Nat offered, I refused, I didn't want to snack. Genius Kyra, well fucking done.
The manager, owner, who ever, actually came and asked for some tables back if they weren't using them. Seriously! Honestly,! It's not like those tables were booked and paid for or anything. It's not like they were still being used but were in between games. It's not like it's the English Women's Snooker Championships being held here or anything! Ok, breath...breathing..
But wait for it...I'm getting to the good bit...the finals!
Oh dear fucking lordy.
So, picture this, it's 8.30pm, it is the semi finals. Two tables. Four women. And.... a loud band playing on just the other side of the wall.
Honestly.
Seriously.
Again, I shit you not!
At the crucible (big serious snooker playing place) you get in serious trouble for sneezing, coughing, breathing too loudly, actually, I'm surprised breathing is allow, it must be absolute deathly silence, as is the seriousness of snooker. (Eek, nearly wrote pool, that's bad joojoo in snooker world)
And right now, old person moment, I can't even hear myself think! Fricken hell, it was so bloody loud, I felt a headache coming on. And I could feel myself getting so pissed off for these women. Not pissed off enough to, you know, do something about it sadly as I am actually, quite frankly, uber whimp, but I glared, and I glared hard.
Now, don't get me wrong, the band are very good, with their speakers, and drums, electric guitars and all that jazz, but it's not exactly appropriate ambience for a snooker tournament is it?
Then, there was the final kick in the gut.
The closing ceremony.
Lol, jokes, there wasn't one!
This poor girl who has worked her ass off and won the world women's number 4 simply got handed an envelope. That was it. No ceremony, no trophy, no photos, abso-fucking-lutely, nothing. How am to be uber amazing supportive and gracious girlfriend groupie if there is no ceremony happening to do that in?
Also, you know, the players, obviously, they played very well, bravo and all that.
Luckily, as women do, they kicked ass with their own after party and my groupie came in to action. We played games, PG, obviously, just with alcohol, again, obviously and it was a really fun night. It's funny how different people are on the table to off it. People who you kinda maybe didn't like all that much and secretly plotted and wished for their downfall were actually bloody lovely people, well, most of them, there are always some arseholes, but you need them in every group for balance, right?!
Game play happened, obviously. There is pride, so much pride. I am actually so bloody proud. I am in awe of not only Nat, who is bloody amazing by the way, but all of these women, playing in these conditions. They have so much talent that is unfortunately so often dismissed in a sport that I can't actually figure out why men and women can't play together, I can see no physical reason.
But good grief, these women, these incredible women, with all this happening, with little to no respect being shown to the game, to them, they cracked on, they played and they kept on smiling, because my little Chumlins, these women are awesome, and these women are there fighting for the game they love, in a world that still doesn't see them as equals, simply because they love it.
And that, should earn them a bloody lot of respect.
TPFN
Kyra x
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