Cue the Champ | Cliff Thorburn World Snooker Champion
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Cliff Thorburn, former World Snooker Champion, Member of the Order of Canada and inductee into numerous sports halls of fame cuts a striking figure when dressed in a tux and bowtie, the hallmarks of his trade. “I like dressing up,” he says. But in 1995 when software entrepreneur Peter Hyne attended a corporate event in Toronto, knocking a few balls around the pool table, Cliff blended into the crowd. At least that’s the way Hyne remembers it.
“I start playing snooker with this fellow and I’m thinking, jeez, they must give you a lot of time off because you’re playing really well. He was in a tux, so I thought he was a waiter. One of my colleagues comes in, sits down and looks up and says ‘holy cow, do you know who that is?’ I said I think he’s the senior waiter because he’s got a lot of time on his hands. And my colleague said ‘that’s Cliff Thorburn. He’s the World Champion.’ What’s he doing in a pub serving beer? I said. ‘He isn’t,’ he said. “He’s part of the show.’” Hyne was gobsmacked. “I didn’t have a clue.”
They met again years later when Hyne employed Cliff to help him promote his business. They played the convention circuit for years. Cliff performed snooker tricks to attract a crowd and Hyne sold product. They remain friends to this day.
Cliff Thorburn was born in Victoria in 1948. His father worked for the City; his mother stayed at home. His parents divorced when he was two and he was temporarily placed in a foster home until he was reunited with his father and grandmother several months later. He remembers his father fondly, united in their shared love of sports.
“My dad was a great guy,” he says. “We were always out doing stuff.”
Cliff often took the lead in games - as a goalie on his soccer team or as a pitcher on his little league team. Then, at age 12, an epiphany. He accompanied his dad to the local alley, where he heard an unfamiliar clicking noise amongst the clatter of the bowling balls.
“I just followed the noise down the stairs and this fellow had banked an eight ball on the side,” continues Cliff. “A big groan went up and a bunch of guys threw money on the table.” The child was mesmerized. “There was the green cloth and smoke in the room and the haze and the bright coloured balls and the light shade. It all caught me at once and I was hooked.”
To this day, Cliff can’t explain it. True, he was mathematically inclined. And yes, the element of control was attractive. A snooker player is always in command, trying to sink balls, of course, but trying to thwart his opponent as well. It’s like a chess game on cloth.
“I was obsessed with it,” he says. “I’d play for hours and hours.” He hung out at the Cue and Cushion pool hall underneath the old Royal Olympic Hotel, where he practiced up to four hours a day until his father interjected. “You know,” Dad said, “this snooker is really getting in the way of your school work.”
“So I quit school,” says Cliff matter-of-factly. Shortly afterwards, he quit Victoria.
“I wanted to see the world. I wanted to see better players. I gambled and did the odd exhibition still trying to hone my skills,” he says of his early days in Toronto. “When you become obsessed with something, as long as you’re eating, you don’t think about anything else. I just knew I was going to be a professional snooker player. I don’t know why. I just kept on going.”
Cliff perfected his safety game, a defensive strategy in which you deny your opponent the chance of a clean shot by burying the cue ball behind another ball or running it up against the rail, in effect trapping him. Hence the term, snookered.
He started winning competitions. The Canadian Open, the Canadian Championship, the North American Championship, but to run with the big boys, he had to travel to England, where snooker was revered and snooker champs were gods. He arrived in England in 1973, at age 25, determined to join the brotherhood where his peers had nicknames like The Hurricane, The Whirlwind and The Tornado. Sadly, a British TV commentator saddled him with the moniker, The Grinder, because of his deliberate, defensive play.
I’ve never liked it. It’s a bit harsh,” Cliff says of The Grinder nickname. “I wanted to be called Champagne Cliff because when I won I always sprayed champagne over the table. I like the nickname… and I don’t mind champagne,” he laughs. “They sure let me know who I was all the time,” he says, comparing himself to the Russian import who comes to Canada to play hockey. “He’s good but he’s not one of us, sort of thing,” he adds ruefully.
No matter, he owned up to the name and wore it proudly. “If somebody’s going to be playing The Grinder they know they’re in for a tough match,” he adds.
He rose quickly, advancing to the quarter finals of the world championships in 1975, making it to the finals in 1978 and finally, in 1980, in a hotly contested match at The Crucible Theatre in Sheffield against Irish bad boy, Alex Higgins, Cliff won the World Championship of snooker, the first non-Brit – and a Canadian to boot – to win the world title.
“I was the first person to take the trophy out of the country,” he says proudly.
Winning didn’t do much to change the snooty reception. Acceptance, indeed adulation, came three years later when Cliff became the first snooker player in the world to play the perfect game, 147 points, in competition.
“It was an unbelievable moment for me. In the UK, that’s all they talk about, the 147, whereas, over here it’s the World Championship. In the UK, it was really big news. The happiest moment in my life, I think, was pocketing the last ball, but I’m much more proud of winning the World Championship.”
“It really put snooker on the map for Canada and we ended up developing a strong selection of world class players after him as well,” says Randall Morrison, President of the Canadian Billiard and Snooker Association, the governing body for cue sports in Canada. “The safety game became the kind of style Canada became known for because of his profile.”
In 1983, Cliff was named to the Order of Canada.
In Britain, he was enjoying the high life. Snooker matches were now being televised and the public ate it up. (The BBC still televises his perfect game every time there’s a world championship). The Grinder was a celebrity enjoying parties, endorsements and hanging out with rock stars.
He had achieved success, but it came at a cost.
“There’s pressure to stay on top. I could see it coming,” he recalls. “Everybody’s getting better. Once I turned 40, it was tough.”
At the 1988 world championship, he tested positive for cocaine.
“They made it seem like a stimulant to help me, but it wasn’t at all,” he says. “I didn’t take it to enhance my playing, that’s for sure. I might have felt sorry for myself at the time. My wife didn’t feel sorry for me. She was very upset. There was a party. Bad mistake.”
He was fined $20,000 and suspended from two tournaments.
Cliff bounced back, winning non-ranking tournaments and maintaining his public profile. His friend Peter Hyne believes Cliff’s professionalism helped him weather those dark days.  
“I think it was his connection to the game that kept him relatively stable through the rough patches,” says Hyne. “He has a real affinity for the game and that sustained him.”
The Grinder played his last championship game in 1996, but remained active with exhibition matches and public appearances. In 2000, in what he calls a personal highlight, he was inducted into the Greater Victoria Sports Hall of Fame. “That meant a lot to me, in my home town,” he says wistfully. In 2001, he was inducted into the Canadian Sports Hall of Fame.
“I’ve seen him play the way he did in the ’80s,” says Hyne. “It’s all there, but it’s the circumstance, context and everything else that’s missing. In Canada, it’s more difficult because we don’t have the same attachment to snooker as the Brits.”
Randall Morrison agrees. Snooker isn’t as popular at home as it is overseas. Moreover, a new game, pocket billiards, has taken over. The balls are bigger, the pockets larger and the table is smaller. It’s easier to master. But for fans of the traditional game, Cliff remains the gold standard. “Any aspiring snooker player today still looks to Cliff Thorburn in Canada,” says Morrison.
“I had a wonderful time over there,” says Cliff, reflecting on his past glories and cherishing his many celebrity and non-celebrity friends. “Bill Wyman of the Stones came to my 40th [birthday],” he recalls.
Peter Hyne remembers meeting another friend, Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters.
“I saw this immense, phenomenal respect that Roger had for Cliff,” says Hyne. “There was nothing artificial about the relationship,” he says fondly. “Cliff’s just one hell of a nice guy, a giving person, very genuine. I would like this guy if all he had was a pickaxe in his hand and a shirt on his back.”
Cliff now lives in Markham, Ontario, with Barbara, his wife of 35 years. “This is the happiest I’ve been in my life,” he says. “I can sleep in the odd time. Did I practice five, six, seven, eight hours a day? How did I ever do it? I just don’t know.”
His two sons Andrew, a systems analyst, and Jamie, a contractor, live nearby as do his two grandsons. His sons do not play competitive snooker. They play for fun. But their Dad remains enthralled.
“I’m still fascinated by the game. Anything to do with snooker, I do it,” he says. “I could still spend a couple of hours on the table by myself. I give lessons. I love teaching.” He solicits fans and students through his website www.cliffthorburn.ca and finds time to pursue his other passion, golf, as well.
“I really want to give people a head start as far as the game is concerned or even life, too. I’m such a different person off the table. I really enjoy making people happy or making them laugh.”
Did dedication pay off? Yes. Did practice pay off? Certainly. But Cliff learned another lesson. Dream big and ramp up expectations.  
“When I turned pro in ’73, I gave myself five years to get to the final of the World Championship. I didn’t even think about winning it.” He did, in fact, get to the finals within five years, but lost, he says, because he was satisfied with making the grade and was not psyched up to go the distance.
“Set your goals high,” he says. “Even if they’re unobtainable, you still have to have a goal beyond the goal.”  
Two years later, he won it all, the first person outside the British Isles to win the World Championship and cementing his position as one of the top snooker players in the world. Cue the champ. The Grinder had arrived.
 
Snapshot with Cliff Thorburn
If you were to meet your 20-year-old self, what advice would you give him?
“Do your best to have your own billiards room and have a place to hang your hat for the rest of your life and coach kids.”
Who or what has influenced you the most? And why?
“John Spencer (three-time world snooker champion) was a very good friend of mine. He sort of took me under his wing. He was great with people, a fantastic player and I learned so much from him.”
What does courage mean to you?
“Courage is putting your money where your mouth is, knowing there are going to be some rough things along the way but sticking to your guns.”
What does success mean to you?
“Being a gentleman, being a good father and having people respect you.”
 
august 2016 INSPIRED senior living magazine