SMILES BETTER
O’Sullivan aims to add another happy emoji to his collection in Sheffield
RONNIE O’SULLIVAN reclines on a sofa. In terms of results, he is in form, winning five ranking events this season to bring his tally to 33, three behind record-holder Stephen Hendry. But — and this may not come as a surprise — the perfectionist in him is far from content with his snooker.
‘I’ve written a thing on my phone after each tournament. If it was a good tournament, I put a smiley face,’ he says.
‘If it’s just a plain face, it means it was all right, and a sad face means that it was s*** and I didn’t enjoy it. At all.
‘Two of my victories have got smiley faces and three have got a sad face because I didn’t actually feel like I performed well or enjoyed it. But I still got the result.
‘It’s a reminder that I can still play badly and win. I’m not going to let my perfectionism stop me.
‘But it still is about winning and losing. I can’t get away from the fact that there are three sad faces there after I’ve won tournaments.’
The World Championship begins next Saturday and he is in a snooker hall in the middle of an industrial estate on the outskirts of Romford.
On the first floor of an anonymous brick building is a spartan room with five snooker tables under fluorescent lights. In a corner lurks a sink, kettle and microwave.
Owned by his former manager Django Fung, O’Sullivan is free to practise here at will. Its anonymity and lack of distractions are ideal. But O’Sullivan still struggles.
‘If I had to graft to win them tournaments, I wouldn’t be sitting here now feeling fresh and relaxed,’ he says. ‘The way I have to do it has to come instinctively.
‘To me, the snooker part is the easy part. The hard part is getting me to practise. And getting me in the right frame of mind. Once I work on that, then I’m excited to be at the tournament and playing.’
O’Sullivan is waiting for his friend Judd Trump. But until he arrives, Ronnie has things on his mind.
‘Really, snooker is something I do because I want to do it, not because I have to do it. I’ve got snooker just where I want it right now,’ he says.
In between sips of herbal tea, the five-time world champion talks about his passions away from a game he’s played since the age of eight.
‘Anything where there is no pressure is fun,’ O’Sullivan adds. ‘Come the tournaments, that’s a different ball game. Every time I put myself on the line, I’m there to be criticised if you play badly; if you play good, they think you’re the best thing since sliced bread.
‘There’s a working life outside of snooker, whereas before I thought: “What else am I going to do?” I could never visualise what my life would be like without snooker.’
Now an author, TV personality, snooker pundit for Eurosport and self-confessed foodie, O’Sullivan’s enthusiasm is infectious.
Take his opinion on Flappy Birds, a mobile-phone game which he credits with curing his fear of flying. ‘I love it,’ he says. ‘It’s the only thing that gets me on the plane. If I get a bit of turbulence, I’m able to get through it without it.
‘But if it gets that bad, then I just pick up the game and I play it and the turbulence goes after a minute or two. And I’m all right.’
He’s also fallen in love with snooker again.
‘I love the punditry,’ he says. ‘It’s one of the best things I do now. I never used to watch snooker but I was forced to watch it because of work. And me and Jimmy (White) and Neal (Foulds) would be watching the game and talking about it.
‘You get so involved in it. You’ve got the one that you want to win it because you’ve followed it through. You think: “I’d love to see him win it because of the journey”.
‘You follow it from start to finish and you get so into it. It’s important just to talk and see the game. And give the viewer an insight of what’s going on and how he’s thinking.’
O’Sullivan heads to Sheffield this week searching for an elusive sixth world title that would bring him alongside Steve Davis and his former coach, Ray Reardon. Hendry has seven, a tally O’Sullivan thinks is out of his grasp.
‘I never get to tournaments and think: “I need to meditate and do my practise”. I used to do but now I can’t be bothered,’ he adds. ‘It’s like a roll of a dice for me. But Sheffield is a special place.
‘I’ve got that safety blanket that if Sheffield’s not going too well, you’re either better off going out early then enjoying your punditry and getting home and having time at home. Or win it. No in between.’
O’Sullivan’s natural talent has been chiselled by two mentors, Reardon and sports psychologist Steve Peters.
‘Ray taught me stuff which I will never forget,’ he says. ‘Steve has helped me not sabotage my own chances. Whereas before I’d get into a match and think: “I don’t feel like this today”, now I give my all.’
If he manages to do that at the Crucible, perhaps another smiley face will appear on his phone.