After Luke Littler made headlines two weeks prior as the youngest-ever PDC World Darts Championship finalist, Ronnie O’Sullivan emerged as the oldest-ever Masters victor.
O’Sullivan’s achievement was met with somewhat less excitement because it was, after all, his 23rd Triple Crown victory.
He has been the favorite, or very nearly the favorite, in every competition he has participated in for as long as anyone can remember.
Because of this, it is easy to forget that more than thirty years ago, when he was a youthful 17-year-old who won the UK Championship, he too made history by becoming the youngest Triple Crown title holder ever.
There’s no denying that this is the same individual, even though his hair was darker, his eyebrows were stronger, his face was fuller, his cheeks were redder, and he had no facial hair.
It is easy to forget that more than thirty years prior, he also made waves in the public eye by becoming the youngest Triple Crown champion ever.
Perhaps the most startling difference between O’Sullivan’s pictures from then and now is how identical he looks, even though he had a career in sports that is practically unmatched. Tom Brady, who is regarded as the greatest player in American football in part because of his extraordinary longevity, played 23 seasons; Lebron James, who is currently in his 21st season and has challenged Michael Jordan for the title of greatest basketball player in basketball, is playing in his 32nd; and Ronnie O’Sullivan is in his 32nd.
Granted, the fact that snooker players are not required to perform as physically demandingly as players in other sports may make these comparisons unfair.
The careers of managers and coaches, whose less physically demanding jobs may be a better (albeit somewhat disparaging of O’Sullivan’s) parallel.
Gregg Popovich has coached the San Antonio Spurs for 27 years; Bill Belichick has directed the New England Patriots for 24 seasons; and Alex Ferguson has managed Manchester United for 26 years.
To put it simply, no one else has demonstrated such continuous and prolonged dominance, either on the field or in the locker room.
To put it simply, no one else has demonstrated such persistent and prolonged dominance on the field or in the locker room.
That may be oversimplifying things, though, as he may not be the same person intellectually as he is physically. O’Sullivan has constantly changed and remade himself to maintain such amazing performance heights.
When he was younger, he played with a reckless yet planned abandon, best demonstrated by his 147 break in the 1997 World Championship opening round, which is still the fastest break ever recorded in a period of just five minutes and eight seconds.
Watching films of it reduces a demanding and complex sport to simple and mindless mechanics, displaying an unsettlingly perfect representation of snooker greatness.
However, O’Sullivan was going through a difficult period personally as well. His mother served a year in prison for tax evasion in 1996, following his father’s 1992 murder conviction. O’Sullivan was left to juggle his snooker career and his eight-year-old sister’s needs.
In addition, his connection with Snooker soured, and he subsequently said that he was seeking refuge in booze, wacky backs, and eating.
This complicated relationship, which included the good, the bad, and the ugly, persisted with snooker. What other way to explain asking the referee to award a maximum break on the first black and then getting one; intentionally potting the pink to get a 146 instead of a 147 in protest at the prize money; and giving up at just 4:1 down in a best-of-17 UK Championship quarterfinal match, respectively?
The propensity for provocation and self-destruction may have lessened, if not completely vanished, in recent years.
O’Sullivan’s sports psychologist, Steve Peters, has been a close confidant and supporter since 2011. Cooking and running have also been recognized as beneficial influences on O’Sullivan’s mental health.
O’Sullivan’s game has undoubtedly evolved so that more defensive, tactical play has replaced the whirlwind breaks of the past, whether for these reasons or for others.
The whirlwind breaks of the past are definitely no longer relevant in O’Sullivan’s game, which now emphasizes more defensive and methodical play.
However, none of these elements—narratively significant or intriguing as they may be—affect the obvious: O’Sullivan is the best snooker player to ever pick up a cue.
It is difficult to come up with an alternative explanation for his World Grand Prix victory just a few days after he acknowledged it. I’m not enjoying my snooker. These competitions and games are a little difficult for me.
O’Sullivan dismisses our attempts to discover a logical or scientific explanation for his dominance—something that would offer us all hope that we, too, could achieve greatness in our chosen fields—as pointless endeavors. It’s hardly more complicated than that; on the contrary, his worst day is better than anyone else’s finest day.
Since O’Sullivan tends to fabricate victories and records anytime he feels like it, can anything he plays really be considered a sport since the essence of sport is its mystery and unpredictable nature?
Even if the quest for an explanation is fascinating, maybe we should be more content to admire and be in awe of his abilities than to try to figure them out. None of the greats last forever, after all.
