When a 41 Break Means More Than Just 41 points on the scoreboard…

At the weekend at Oxshott, I made a 41 break in a frame against a decent player—and on paper, that might just look like a decent visit to the table.

But sometimes, a break means far more than the number beside it.

What made this one special was that it was built properly: reds and blacks, no other colours, no loose scoring. I potted five blacks cleanly and was on the sixth, only for it to rattle the jaws and stay out. I was gutted in the moment because I knew exactly what was there for me.

I have had good karma before in winning a league title at Oxshott, and also, now, into a Doubles Final with the chance to win another medal.

But stepping back, I realised something important—this wasn’t just about missing one black.

It was proof.

Proof that despite only practicing once a week and playing league matches on Tuesdays, my game is still there. Proof that the cueing, the focus, and the belief are still alive. And perhaps most importantly, proof that hard work doesn’t always shout—it quietly shows up when it matters.

A few years ago at Woking, I made my highest break – 43.

That was actually way before I had a serious bike accident in 2020 – which left me with a not so fully rotational shoulder – and a whole host of other issues that came along in five years.

Since then, life has not exactly been a straight cue ball. I’ve had five years of issues off the table, and with a shoulder that doesn’t fully rotate, I’ve had to work hard to stay competitive and adapt my game. It’s not been easy at all – but I have stuck with it and waited. Bided my time. Silently gone about my business.

Nothing has been handed to me in snooker in terms of going to play in leagues with “mates” or cliques – I’ve had to work for it – despite only getting time to practice once a week on a weekend.

There have been frustrations, setbacks, and moments where I felt I was treated unfairly in places where I expected better. But sport has a funny way of balancing things out. It’s true what they say, GOOD KARMA comes to those who are patient and persistent – and do not give into the few who try to ruin other people’s aspirations through jealousy, or insecurity or just plain moral evil or taking the mickey.

Sometimes, karma doesn’t come in words.
Sometimes, karma comes in a 41 break.

REVENGE is a decent dish up like a chicken noodles stir-fry.

There is something deeply satisfying about letting the table do the talking. No arguments. No bitterness. Just reds, blacks, and quiet proof that you are still standing and still going.

In many ways, my game now is different. Maybe less about forcing brilliance and more about understanding the frame, controlling the table, and choosing the right moments. Smarter. Calmer. More patient.

I enjoy the game. I don’t care about winning or losing. I pot balls for fun – and enjoy every moment I get at a table.

And maybe that’s what real progress looks like.

Because sometimes the best response to adversity isn’t shouting it – those who listen – cheers.

It’s walking in, keeping your head still, and knocking in five blacks.

This break may not be my highest. In fact, I was gutted – gutted because there was a chance in that for a lot more.
But it might be one of the most meaningful.

Because it reminded me of something simple:

I’m still here potting balls – for fun.
I can still play.
And I never needed “permission” from the idiots who thought it was funny to take the mickey.

And regardless of the breaks, I follow the basics. I try and keep my head still, pause nicely, deliver the cue through to the chest and watch the ball to the pocket, and importantly enjoy every moment.

I ignore the scoreboard (most of the time) and just play. And if it leads to the promised land of titles, it’s a bonus.

It’s a lesson. Learn it well. To all those who have had similar stories. Keep going. You get your GOOD KARMA and those who diss you get their BAD KARMA – eventually.