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It was a big day in our house today. There was the final of the German Masters Snooker with Judd Trump and Shaun Murphy. And then there was Emma proving that she knows where she lives. There was also a lot of snow but that is becoming a bit run-of-the-mill these days though, as Nicoline said “I told you so.”
She was referring to the fact that, earlier in January, after the big dump of snow when I stupidly asserted that there would be no more snow and she metaphorically waggled a finger in my face and told me how it could snow in April. I forgot to beware hubris, clearly.
Nicoline said this when she came around to take the girls for a short walk. It wasn’t meant to be a short walk but Emma decided it would be. As they reached the woods, Nicoline undid Emma’s lead and she was off. Emma, not Nicoline. Emma flew out of the woods like a tiny, teddy bear-like Baskerville hound.
My phone rang at this point. It was Nicoline telling me that Emma had escaped and was, hopefully, headed for home. As I looked out the front window, a super turbocharged blur of caramel came bounding up the road and into the driveway. Emma almost knocked me over as she flew into the house.
Freya, although occasionally glancing behind her to find Emma, wasn’t bothered and enjoyed the walk properly.
It was all rather odd, though somewhat comforting that Emma knows where home is. It wasn’t quite as comforting to realise how she felt about the snooker.
Regardless of her opinion, I thoroughly enjoyed watching two complete sessions of snooker. Even more enjoyable was the fact that Judd Trump beat Shaun Murphy ten frames to four.
Normally, I don’t really mind who wins in snooker (unless it’s Ronnie, of course), it’s more about the skill at potting, positioning and safety play. I love it when a player appears to be controlling the cue ball on a piece of string. (I also can’t understand why my wife doesn’t find it as exciting as I do.)
But then there’s Shaun Murphy. I concede that there are few players with his cue power and, on a good day, he is unbeatable for safety. No, the problem I have with Murphy dates back to a comment he made during his table side interview after winning the 2005 World Championship.
I wrote about it, quite succinctly, here but, in a nutshell, he thanked god for his victory making me wonder why god would give him the win over the other person. I wonder if loving the winner means that god hates the loser?
I don’t care whether Shaun Murphy loves and believes in god or not. I just hate the fact that sportspeople with the belief that they deserve to win because of their faith, seem to glory in it. In my mind, this firstly, denigrates the years of toil they and their supporters have put in, and, secondly, suggests that their opponent is unworthy of victory because an invisible entity has decided who prayed harder, deserves it more.
Anyway, ignoring that, I have to say that Shaun Murphy, tonight, proved himself a true sportsman by calling a foul on himself. He was aiming to pot a pink which was perilously close to a red ball. He ever so slightly misjudged the shot and clipped the red ball first. It was so slight that the referee didn’t see it. The only reason I saw it was because the camera was tight in on the balls at the time.
The pink went in and the referee went to take the pink out of the pocket, prior to saying the score when Murphy straightened up and said, quite clearly, that it was a foul. And that’s what sport should be.
At the end of hostilities, Trump was the worthy winner and took the title with grace. And, can I say, so did Murphy. It was a lovely end to a lovely couple of sessions of world-class snooker.
The other ting I did today was to find time to record my latest Letter from Sweden. Here it is:
Stalker Report
Today, North Bergen had 70 views. Strange for a Sunday.
