At London's O2 on Saturday, a sporting revolution was taking place.
More than 30 years after snooker's world championship was first televised, creating a pantheon of legends who dominated our screens in the 1980s and 1990s, the sport was brought kicking and screaming into the 21st Century with the spawning of an exciting new format.
Power Snooker is the rebellious son of this venerable old timer of the sporting world, billed by its inventors as 'an innovative and explosive re-working of the traditional game'. It is intended to do for snooker what Twenty20 has done for cricket.
There are nine reds on the table, rather than the usual 15, and every match is finished after 30 minutes of play (plus the usual ad breaks between 'racks' - this was on ITV4 after all). Winning frames is irrelevent - it's all about the total points scored at the end of the half hour. One of the reds is the 'powerball' - it's worth two when potted but, more importantly, triggers a two-minute 'powerplay' when every ball is worth double points. What's more, any balls sunk when the cue ball is in baulk (known in this format, inevitably, as the 'powerzone') are worth double - quadruple if potted during the powerplay.
To the traditionalists, the basic premise probably sounds horrendous, an insult to the many greats from the past, and those who love the hushed tension of the 'proper' game. Despite being in my mid-20s, I count myself among those traditionalists, and have both the desire and the patience to sit through entire test matches or two-week snooker World Championships. I even managed to stay awake during the Peter Ebdon-Graeme Dott final of 2006. There's probably a support group for those of us who achieved that.
But Power Snooker captivated me and, it seems, the crowd at the O2, who imbibed throughout the day and were allowed to shout and sing as much as they liked ("Ding Junhui, my Lord, Ding Junhui" - I kid you not). The eight-player tournament was won, predictably, by Ronnie O'Sullivan, the chief flag-waver of the new format, who blitzed Ding in a one-sided final.The whole affair, with its showbiz window-dressing, reminded me of the ending of the pretty much forgotten Britflick Blackball, where a young, rebellious and outrageously gifted player is used to rebrand and repackage the usually sedate sport of bowls. Paul Kaye's 'bad boy of bowls' was loosely based on the real-life story of Griff Sanders. In this instance, with life perfectly imitating art, it's Rocket Ronnie who is the poster boy for this turbo-charged version of snooker.
Some of the purists may sneer at the forced glitz (the identikit, casino-style 'Power Girls' who walked the players to the table was a shameless and, to be honest, failed ploy to inject some form of 'sex appeal'), but the action on the table was captivating. Events like this will surely act as a 'gateway' format for the younger generation. Power Snooker will pull 'em in - and, World Snooker chief Barry Hearn hopes, the longer game will reap the benefits.
A couple of bugbears - I actually think the 20-second shot clock could have been reduced to 15. The speed of the action meant no players ever got close to a time penalty and 20 seconds is actually quite a long time when you count it down. Also, the miss rule is completely out of place in this format - it may help one player rack up the points, but it slows the game down if the referees (in this tournament the brilliant Michaela Tabb and Patricia Murphy) have to re-spot balls.
The revolution will not be televised, Gil Scott-Heron wrote. He obviously never envisaged Power Snooker.
Assuming they've all got their passports, England's cricketers will fly out to Australia tomorrow. But come February, when they move on to India for the World Cup, will they still be the proud owners of the Ashes urn?
When England last won a series on Australian soil, in 1986-87, they had a skipper from Middlesex, boasted a dashing middle order batsman and Broad was a key member of the squad. OK, while Andrew Strauss may be more athletic in the field than Mike Gatting, Kevin Pietersen perhaps doesn't have the natural grace of David Gower and, despite THAT partnership in the summer, Stuart's batting hasn't quite reached the standard of dad Chris. But if the omens mean nothing, recent form has at least put England in a strong position.
The summer victories over Pakistan had some of the sheen taken off them after the spot-betting allegations emerged, but the test series was won with some polished performances, particularly from swing king James Anderson and spin doctor Graeme Swann (45 wickets between them). And last year's Ashes series win marks England out as arguably the best team in the world in cool, overcast, swinging conditions.
But to win Down Under will take something a bit extra. Australia may not be the force they once were, and for the first time in living memory England begin an Ashes series as the highest-ranked team after Ricky Ponting's men lost in India. However, under the weight of their own expectation and in the glare of an unforgiving Aussie crowd, England will have to prove they have added mental strength to the close-knit team spirit engendered under Strauss and coach Andy Flower.
The batting line-up, so often exposed in the heat of battle in Oz, will need to provide a platform. Strauss will be targeted by the Aussies, as captains always are, and he and opening partner Alastair Cook will need to remain granite-like at the crease. Cook only averaged 23 against Pakistan, as did Kevin Pietersen, who will remain a prize wicket for the Aussie bowlers. Jonathan Trott, Paul Collingwood, Matt Prior and whoever gets the nod between Eoin Morgan and Ian Bell will need to anchor the innings if the top order flops but these days England bat well down the order, with Broad and Swann able to hit out.
The big concern has to be England's ability to take 20 Aussie wickets in their backyard. The ball won't swing the way Anderson will want it to, and Swann has to replicate his form of the summer even on the pitches that won't be as conducive to spin. The two that could make an impact are Steve Finn and Chris Tremlett. Finn has 32 test wickets to his name but will be somewhat of an unknown quantity to the Aussies, while Tremlett, if selected, has the frame to generate pace and bounce - the new Steve Harmison, if you will.
He was selected ahead of Ajmal Shahzad, one of two big squad decisions the selectors got right in my view. Taking Monty Panesar was the other - the Sikh of Tweak has enjoyed a renaissance at Sussex and he is an excellent back-up option to Swann, and may well play alongside him in the spin-friendly final Test in Sydney.
The morning session in Brisbane will set the tone - let's hope it brings more luck than Harmison's wayward first ball four years ago...
(My tip - a 2-2 series draw and the urn to stay with England. You heard it here first.)
The debate on video technology in football has resumed - with the Premier League's most media-friendly manager emerging as a vociferous advocate of a review system.
Sure, Ian Holloway's impassioned plea to have football belatedly shunted into the 21st century ("I'm sorry Mr Blatter, you're getting it all wrong") may have been rooted in frustration following his Blackpool side's 3-2 defeat to Manchester City.
Ollie felt his side had been wronged three times by the officials, with Carlos Tevez's disputable double for City standing and Gary Taylor-Fletcher's goal chalked off for offside. All that after a bright and breezy Blackpool had threatened to humble the richest club in the world, only to be beaten by a gold-plated David Silva strike. No wonder he was annoyed.
But he's right, to a degree. Replays may not ever reliably rule offside goals out or onside goals in, but football does need to change. Even Mr Blatter realises that now, in the wake of Lampardgate at the World Cup.
Goalline technology should be the bare minimum. With so much money at stake for promotion and relegation, football literally can't afford to have any doubt cast over what is essentially its basic premise - the ball crossing the goalline.
It's not a new argument. Chesterfield were, arguably, denied a place in the 1997 FA Cup final when, as third division underdogs, they led Premier League Middlesbrough 2-1 in the Wembley semi. A shot from Jonathan Howard cannoned off the bar, TV replays showed the ball had clearly crossed the line. The officials disagreed, however. The game ended 3-3 and Boro won the replay.
To be fair, TV slo-mos have also highlighted numerous brilliant calls by officials. Anders Frisk (later effectively hounded out of the game by Jose Mourinho) bravely awarded a penalty to Ireland in the last minute of their 2002 World Cup second round clash with Spain, when he spotted Fernando Hierro trying to swap shirts with Niall Quinn, an offence which often goes unpunished. Frisk, in the final throes of an important match on the world's biggest stage, didn't bottle it.
I am a (lapsed) qualified referee myself. I've only ever done park matches but I’m protective of referees and the job they do (but more on that in another blog later in the week). And I think the use of technology could support, rather than undermine, the officials.
The naysayers argue the other sports which use video reviews all have natural breaks in play, and football can't afford to stop to check decisions.
Well, unlike Holloway, I wouldn’t advocate TV reviews of every contentious decision. Goalline technology could show instantly whether the ball had crossed the line, so that wouldn't delay things. Football’s also not a constantly flowing sport. The referee halts play several times a game anyway for substitutions or injuries, and arguments over decisions can often take up more time than a replay would.
The anti-technology lobby also say it'd damage the FIFA ideal that football must be the same everywhere, from Hackney Marshes to Wembley. Most professional matches in England are filmed these days, which means technology would be available for the Premier League and Football League. Any TV deal for the Conference’s three divisions could include replay provision. If it couldn’t filter further down the pyramid, so be it. It wouldn’t be the only difference - do they have fourth officials indicating time added on during park matches?
I'd like to see reviews prove other line decisions, such as whether an offence was committed inside or outside the penalty area (Brighton and Hove Albion would be two points better off if that had been in operation this season), and on judging handball inside the box. You’d need some restrictions on its use – perhaps a certain number of reviews per game and a finite number of replays before the television match official (who should be a retired referee) decides. If inconclusive, follow the cricket model and allow the original on-field decision to stand.
If Holloway has his way, it may mean the end of dozens of column inches (and hours of pub talk) on contentious refereeing decisions – but if it produces fairer results, the relentless whinging by managers after games should take the heat off the officials. And that can only be good for the game.
As a journalist, the thing that frightens me most is the blank page.
Sure, it's how virtually every piece of creativity begins, and the possibilities for how to turn that large white space into a slab of entertaining words (or pictures, or whatever) are endless, which is quite exciting. I can never seem to master writing the middle bit of a piece first and then tagging a first and last line on the end. I'm a linear person - I start at the start, finish at the finish and see where the whim takes me in between. So a blank page, with a first line just crying out to be written, is sometimes where my word juggernaut stalls.
Hence why, given that I have an entirely blank canvas with this new blog, I have decided to waffle on about blank pages - just to fill this one up a bit.
A BIT ABOUT ME: I'm a freelance sports journalist and broadcaster and this blog is just my excuse to sound off a bit on issues I have a strong view on (i.e. everything). If you're wise enough to be interested in the rest of my work, my website is at http://www.andrewraeburn.co.uk/.
At London's O2 on Saturday, a sporting revolution was taking place.