Success vs. Joy
- LXIII -
Friends Matter
An experience I went through on my first overseas visit, which was to the U.K., made a lasting impression on my belief in humanity. This experience also gave me an insight into human behavior, into what goes into the making of a friend. I realized that there are people in the world who work on gut instinct, who have goodness in them and who value friendship.
It was 1984 and I had already won a national open title, was beginning to win almost every other domestic tournament I was participating in, and yet had not represented the country in an international tournament. There was an urgent need to get exposure to better competition, to alien, and different conditions, because I knew that was the only way to improve, to learn, and to build my own bank balance of experiences.
Talking of bank balances, I realized I had Rs. 12,000 in my savings account. O.B. Agrawal, Sanjay Sawant and I met one day and we all felt there was a lot to be achieved by going to England and participating in the Pro-Am circuit there.
By reading Snooker Scene, a popular magazine, we found out there was a series of events held every summer, staged at holiday camps, which offered decent prize money. Three thousand pounds for the winner may not appear huge by today’s standards, but in 1984 it represented a lot of money. More than anything else it was the need to test our own abilities against those who were considered the best amateurs in the world.
O.B. got some support from his family, Sanjay managed to raise enough for the ticket and I went to V.K. Bali, the President of Tomco, and asked whether the company would support me. He picked up the telephone, called the travel coordinator, and asked him to book a return ticket to London.
There have been such people and opportune moments that have combined in helping me achieve my potential. V.K. Bali was responsible for recognizing my talent and for supporting me whole-heartedly. With the ticket given by the company, I used the Rs. 12,000 in my bank to buy my quota of 500 dollars FTS as it was then called. O.B. collected about 800 dollars and Sanjay had the comfort of having his uncle in Slough. He picked us up from Heathrow and he was the one who helped us to initially find our feet. I was nervous, as are most first-time travelers.
There was no visa required for the U.K. in those days but just before leaving I remember going to the U.S. Embassy to acquire the U.S. visa. The logic was that as I was going all the way to the U.K. and had a chance of winning some money I would go to the U.S. as well. My cousin was also going to be there at the same time and I got my ticket extended to New York.
I didn’t know whether I was going to reach American soil. I never had an idea of how much money I needed to sustain myself in the U.K. for two to three months. In our minds we were all very clear. We had a return ticket and the minute our money ran out, we would take the flight back. Little did I realize in the nervousness and anxiety of planning for the trip that it was the start of my international career. It was to be the single biggest confidence boost I received in a career that was to extend for the next two decades.
I remember my brother Gagan flying from Ahmedabad and handing me 300 dollars in cash at the international airport. He was as worried as I about how long the money would last. I remember so vividly the eagerness with which I looked out of the plane as it landed at Heathrow airport. Red rooftops, glistening sunlight (yes, the sun was at its glorious best), the curving motorways, and speeding cars were the first glimpse of England that I caught from the aircraft.
We slept the night at Sanjay’s uncle’s house and the next day took directions to reach Romford, where Barry Hearn’s office was located. We had written to Barry (Steve Davis’s manager), asking for his help in organizing our tour and tournaments and he had done so very willingly. We reached his office; a few minutes walk from Romford railway station. His exclusive club Matchroom, where Davis, the world snooker champion practiced, was the first snooker club I saw in the U.K. Over the next many years I was to see numerous such clubs in the U.K. and across the world, but I still remember that one, with its match table especially reserved for Steve.
And Steve asked us for a game. I remember O.B. playing him, trying his best to impress Steve with the beauty and fluency of his cueing and with his superb touch. I also recollect Steve clinically going about his job, potting the balls with the ease and efficiency of a thoroughbred, coolly leaving his opponent behind.
Later, Barry met us in his office. He gave us the details of the tournaments, how to get there and off we went, and sitting in the train back to Slough.
A day more in Slough and we packed our bags for Prestatyn, a quaint town in the northwest of Wales, known for its Pontin’s Holiday Village. The Pontin’s Pro-Am was one of the pro ticket tournaments. It was a shock to all three of us to see a hall with 21 tables. There were 800 entries in the tournament, with best of three frames first round matches played on some really horrible tables. It suddenly dawned on me what one had to go through to join the pro ranks. I reached the last 16, while Sanjay and O.B. went out in the last 32. I earned 150 pounds, while O.B. and Sanjay collected 75 pounds. We also received 100 pounds of holiday vouchers, which we could use in any of the Pontin’s holiday camps.
So after a five-day stay, we once again packed our bags and headed for the coach station. As we passed the car park, a short, slightly balding guy was opening the boot of his red Mercedes Benz. He was Indian and sported a small French beard. He walked up to us and said, “I have watched you all playing these last five days. Where are you from?”
It was the start of an everlasting friendship for me. We all introduced ourselves, giving our background of being national-level billiards and snooker players. When he found out that we were from Mumbai and I was from Ahmedabad, he broke into Gujarati. That was the way I met Pravin Patel and started a long association with a man who was on the dole at the time, but who extended a king’s hospitality to us.
“Where are you going?” was his next question. “We don’t know,” we replied in unison. We had a week to go before the start of our next event and we needed to practice during that time. We had decided to go to a hotel, as we did not want to trouble Sanjay’s uncle all over again.
“Put your bags in the boot,” he said. “You come home with me.” It was so simple. Such a big decision made with such little thought. It was sheer gut instinct that Pravin worked with. We all jumped into his car and off we went to Luton, 18 Durbar Lane, where his wonderful wife Ruchita opened the door and, for the next two months, looked after us, cooked for us, took care of our laundry and, best of all, gave us a home in an alien country. She accepted us without any questions. They were recently married but not once did we get the feeling that we were not wanted in their home. Who said only marriages are made in heaven? Friendships are as well.
Pravin had started playing snooker a few years earlier and he practiced at a club near his home. We called up Barry, he knew the owners of the club and arranged for us to have free practice time there. We suddenly felt at home in cold, wet, and windy England. We had a friend and, more important, we had a home.
After six days of practice, Pravin drove us to Brean Sands in Somerset. That was the next Pontin’s pro ticket tournament. He did not charge us for petrol, he did not ask us to share the cost of the food he bought on the way. He just asked us for one thing – to win the tournament. I dutifully obliged, with O.B. and Sanjay reaching the semifinal. I received 3,000 pounds, while O.B. and Sanjay picked up 750 pounds each. In those days that was a fortune for us and it allowed us to stay in the U.K. for three months, playing all over the country.