Stephen Hendry's just announced his retirement, which is sort of the unhappiest thing snooker's ever done after the Paul Hunter thing, and sort of wholly expected, and sort of not. I didn't take the sensible precaution of remembering to care about other (consistently good) snooker players after about 1994, so, you know. QUITE SAD. But yes. My instinctive reaction is OH STEPHEN HENDRY WHY MY EYES MY BEAUTIFUL EYES, or something, then I looked at what other people were saying and it was kinder than that, so really I ought just to say thank you to him for being divine and amazing and full of a sense of unwavering entitlement for all those years, and for having such a beautiful back. I've followed his career since the eighties and he was one of the first two players I ever saw live (in 1992 - I was eleven), and I had a poster of him on my wall when I was a teenager (him and Spock, MY ONLY LOVES, I'll stop this soon), and he gave me much enjoyment
and then all that AGONY. And why can't it be the nineties again.