By Elliott West
“Snooker had been my profession but gambling had been my downfall”.
Willie Thorne
Introduction
Willie Thorne’s snooker story is a mix that is joyful and yet tinged with sadness to tell. This is a journey that started with an abundance of talent and promise but ended in ill health and solitude. He had the snooker world at his feet but as I witnessed myself as a friend, the sadness in his eyes grew deeper, fettered by the chains of gambling that caused many of his good friends to turn their back when he needed them most, a reaction caused by non-payment of personal debts and a fateful mission that was controlled by the spin of a roulette wheel or the horse that had a bundle of notes piled on it. I saw and witnessed a glimpse of it but still miss him dearly. A legend who went too soon but because of his misdemeanours is now rarely mentioned.
The Birth of a Legend
Willie Thorne fell in love with snooker as a boy in his native Leicester. A love that began in a hotel on a family holiday in Eastbourne and later at Anstey Conservative Club in Leicester where his father was a steward. Equipped with one snooker table, this was a place where Thorne spent many an hour and was glued to the table, so much so that the club had to limit the amount of time he spent on it. This was where he perfected his fluent potting and break building, a quality that saw the colours potted quicker than they could be respotted. A gift that would open the doors of the glittering prizes of snooker.
Willie Thorne was a breath of fresh air for snooker and at the age of 16 in 1975, his talent should have been rewarded with winning the English Amateur Championship as the youngest International player, the clear favourite but was defeated by Sid Hood 11-6 in the final. It was a glimpse of near success that should have set him on a path to many tournament wins but as this period showed he should have won three junior titles prior to this but only won one.
Despite boasting a large number of 147 breaks in practice, an accomplishment that earned him the title of the ‘Maximum Man’, Willie found it difficult to repeat this magic on the professional circuit. Thorne became notorious for losing matches at a winning position. These big occasions clearly got the better of him. A brilliant win would usually be quickly followed by a bruising defeat. He rose to a high of 7th in the world rankings during the 1986/87 and the 1993/94 seasons but only had one ranking title, the 1985 Classic where he beat Cliff Thorburn 13-8 in the final in Warrington. He should have won the 1985 UK Championship but threw the match away at 14-8 ahead when in a moment of a loss of concentration, he missed a straight blue to the middle pocket and would go on to lose the final to Steve Davis 16-14. A loss that he would constantly be reminded of for the rest of his life. Although he did achieve six non-ranking titles including the 1986 Hong Kong Masters, 1989 New Zealand Masters and the first World Seniors in 2000, Thorne never really reached his full potential and became better known as a brilliant snooker commentator.
The Voice
Speak to anyone who worked with WT in the commentary box and the responses will always be heaped with praise. Thorne had a keen eye and a unique style of commentary that wouldn’t pull any punches. When he was in the box, all the television monitors bar several would be tuned into his favourite television programmes such as Homes under the Hammer, horse racing and I am sure he would have it on Coronation Street at some time or another because I know he never missed an episode. Yet a moment of madness when he thought the television microphone was off picked up a conversation when he swore, would lead him to be sacked by the BBC. He was relegated to the BBC Wales team for the annual Welsh Open and had to turn his hand to after-dinner speaking and promotion work to make a crust.
The Last Days
I knew Willie towards the end of his life and by then he wasn’t in good health. Having recovered from prostate cancer, a stroke and suffering from depression which led to a suicide attempt, the once snazzy dresser would wear the same leather jacket and tie, not able to make a comeback on the World Seniors your despite having laser eye surgery. I loved his company, always the first to embrace me in a room but behind the smile, he looked sad. He just wanted to go back to his hotel room, complaining his eyes were hurting and were tired. I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was of course the start of his battle with leukaemia and before long he was confined to his bed in his rented Spanish villa, looked after by carers and virtually paralysed.
I was probably only one of a handful of people that spoke to him at the end of his life. My last conversation was on the day he was rushed to the local Spanish intensive care unit. His last words to me will stay with me till this day. “Elliott, I want to die”. Several days later, he went into respiratory failure and I was called to say that the hospital was going to turn the life support machine off. My friend was gone and my heart felt empty.
