on you threefold. I will let you in on a secret, Steiner: there is no such
thing as Hell; it’s just an idea invented by the Emperor Constantine
and The Church to control the masses. Anyway, I am a Methodist
myself—a Christian.”
“So God won’t send me to Hell, then?”
“Of course, not, Steiner—not anymore than she would me. This idea
of an angry God is just a male fantasy fgure—an invention of the
Medieval Church. It’s the Mother Goddess we witches worship. She is
only kind and generous. That’s why you’ve had so many nice things.
Are there many Christians at your school ... really religious ones?”
I really didn’t know what she was on about, but I answered her ques-
tion.
“Not sure … how many, but I’ve heard teachers gossip about the Wood-
work Teacher, saying he is also a priest with the Church of Scotland.”
“Do you mean minister?”
“Could be that.”
“Well, listen! If he starts talking about Hell, just ignore him … when
we die, Steiner, our karma takes us into new lives, not to hell.”
“I heard that in RMPE. Hindus teach it, but that’s not what my sci-
ence teacher says. Once we had a big debate about it and he said when
you die there is nothing—just the blackness of darkness, forever.”
“Maybe for him that will be true, Steiner. Remember this:
The Witch’s Shoppe 29
‘Through thought we make words
and with words, magic,
and with magic we create reality.’
“Now … your Magic Cue—clever idea to use it as a wand ... but …
I think it’s become a prop. A bit like, Dumbo with his magic fying
feather.”
“Huh?”—was she calling me dumb?
Sensing my thoughts, she responded quickly, “The Disney Cartoon,
Steiner—you know, Dumbo he was an elephant that believed his
Magic Feather made him fy. He lost it, and had to learn to fy on his
own. You’ve never seen it?”
I hadn’t; so, I shook my head.
“So, I need to get rid of the cue?”
“No! What you need is some confdence in yourself. Listen!” she went
on. “I will put you into a trance and cast a spell of confdence on you.”
I agreed. She spoke. I fell ‘asleep.’
When I ‘woke up’ she told me that she had cast a couple of spells.
Her assistant stood by my left side. Chris gave me her business card,
telling me to phone her at any time, especially if Christians tried to
preach to me about witches and hell.
As I walked back to school, I memorised the number—something I
would have struggled with before today. I felt much better than I ever
had.
I went into the corner shop and bought bars of chocolate, sweets and
juice for everyone in my School Unit. Once again, I was the hero for
the evening.
I loved every second of it.
CHAPTER 9
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice
Training with Stephen Hendry was great. As was staying in the
Gleneagles Hotel. David Noble covered the bill at the Gleneagles. We
knew he was serious when he started forking out cash like this.
Who could have imagined that in just a few weeks I had gone from
being a rubbish pool player to training with the best snooker player
of all time? Sandwiched in the middle was my crushing defeat of the
best player in Fife—David Noble, who was now paying for my room
at the Gleneagles.
Even better, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than snooker.
It wasn’t all great. Auchterarder was a bit boring—too much like
Aberdour. In the day I trained with Hendry at his house, and in the
evening, Scott, David Noble and I played snooker to pass the time.
The two of them also took time out and travelled back to see their
families.
Scott was a pretty good player and beat Noble in a couple of games.
There was no money on the table. Perhaps ‘The Boy Noble’ couldn’t
put his heart into it when there was no money on offer.
Hendry taught me how to snooker opponents; how to get out of
snookers; how to read the game; how to angle shots off cushions; how
to come back from disasters. He explained over and over again about
the need to stay focused and concentrate for the whole match.
He saved the best till last, of course—how to get a 147 break. The idea
is quite simple: just pot a red and set it up to pot the black. Multiply
this 15 times, pot the colours and then the fnal black: voila—147—as
easy as that!
So guess what I did? Yes, I started notching up 147 breaks. Eight in
two days to be exact.
30
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice 31
It was going so well, I lost track of the days. So did Stephen. His wife,
Mandy, didn’t. She was getting fed up with it all. At one point she said,
“Do you not think you should play a few games with you own kids?”
That was an awkward moment. Looking at his face, I think Hendry
hated being embarrassed as much as me.
Well, that was pretty much the end of the intense, non-stop training.
But Stephen said he would still help to get the ball rolling for me.
That was the problem.
To play in the Pro-Circuit, you need a Tour Card. These need to be
earned through the right competitions. Q-School was one way, but it
had just fnished and there was almost a year to wait. Besides, entry
was based on merit and I didn’t have any.
Another possibility was the Players Tour Championship. There would
be recognition, but no cash. This was relegated to a back-up plan. Ste-
phen said he had a brutal time when he was forced to play on the PTC.
Time was against us. We had to short-cut the process. The best way to
do this was sensationalism we decided.
CHAPTER 10
Of Mice and Men
Here was the plan:
First, we would video two matches: one between myself and Hendry
and then a second between myself and Stephen Maguire, who also
agreed to get on board.
Second, we would post the videos on YOUTUBE and then send copies
to the newspapers and television broadcasting stations.
Third, at the end of the videos Stephen Hendry would announce
that he would pay one million pounds to any professional player who
could beat me. Said player would have no forfeit.
By the last week in July, everything was ready.
Of course, Stephen should have kept his wife informed of everything.
When she found out about the prize money, she went, as we describe
it in Scotland, ‘absolutely radge’. I am absolutely sure that needs no
translation.
With the camera all set up, I played Stephen frst, the best of three.
He had taught me well, but he hadn’t taught me everything. His angles
and ability to snooker me caught me off guard, but, as it turned out,
he was just delaying the inevitable. I took the frst game by only 7
clear points. I broke in the second and cleared 78 points.
Maguire watched and worried. Hendry had retired, but Maguire
was still competing and he didn’t want to look a fool on TV nor on
YO
UTUBE. He demanded the best of fve.
So the best of fve it was: 3:2 to me.
I won’t bore you with more details (you can check it out on YOUTUBE),
but I managed a 147 break. (I also managed a 97 break, but who
32
Of Mice and Men 33
remembers those?)
There was some debate over the release date of the material. The
London Olympics dominated all forms of media. Dave Noble argued
that our efforts might be drowned out. Hendry and Scott argued that
it was so sensational that people would take notice, despite the na-
tionwide mania for Team-GB. Plus, they added, it was costing Noble
money.
We released it as soon as.
CHAPTER 11
The Three Ruffans
The response to the video was overwhelming. Countless offers poured
in. In the end, I played just three top players: John Gould, John Hig-
gins and Matthew Stevens.
John Gould was the frst. I beat him 6:2 in the best of 11. The video
went viral. Shock waves reverberated throughout the snooker world.
John Higgins few in from Mauritius, interrupting his holiday. He left
Edinburgh Airport at 4pm. By 7pm we were playing in Hendry’s
snooker room, cameras on.
I was blown away. Higgins took the frst three games without my barely
touching a ball.
Hendry started to panic. I was getting fustered and for the frst time
in weeks, I messed up my break. Higgins took the forth.
That left just seven games. I just didn’t know what to do. I had the cue
clutched in my hand as I bowed my head, trying not to look at any of
them, and certainly hoping not to see Mandy.
Higgins broke and started potting the balls.
I went over in my mind everything that had happened—all the games.
There was defnitely something different in the last couple of matches.
My opponents hadn’t stared at the cue as much as others had in
the early games. Higgins hadn’t even looked at it at all. Also, I was
losing interest in magic, and hadn’t thought about it in weeks. I was
obsessed on developing skill—I did mention I can be OCD at times. I
reminisced about that magic ceremony in my room. Then, I replayed
the school pool competition in my mind. I clearly visualised how the
cue had transfxed them all. Next, I imagined Higgins hypnotised by
the cue. It started to tingle in my hand. It dawned on me: the power
of the cue was based on what I wished for, and how I visualised it.
34
The Three Ruffans 35
“Higgins 27 break; Sanderson two shots,” Hendry announced,
wakening me from my own trance. Opening my eyes, I could see
Higgins eyes glaring at the cue, pupils dilated. He had missed an easy
shot.
Now was my chance.
I went to the table and cleared it.
I won the next six games in a row, scoring two 147’s—an unheard of
accomplishment.
My support screamed and jumped for joy. Higgins shook my hand
and said he would do his best to help me. Later he bought Scott and
David a couple of whiskies back at the hotel, before fying back to
Mauritius later the next day
When the footage was released, some understood it as a hustle on Hig-
gins; others saw me cracking and thought I was beatable.
Fortunately, Hendry saw it as a hustle and upped the prize money to
£1,500,000. Thinking back, I’m sure the hypnotic effect of the cue lay
behind this.
That kind of money put a lot of pressure on me, but I was not worried
a bit, because now I knew exactly how to beat everyone who came my
way.
There was a two day gap between Higgins and Mathew Stevens. In the
meantime, excitement gave way to some cold hard facts about fnances.
David Noble was beginning to make noises. I had overheard his con-
versations with his wife, who was making even bigger noises. He hadn’t
really thought it through, and had overstretched himself.
Scott became uneasy, and decided to get back to work. He said he’d
wait until after my next game.
In contrast, Hendry became more upbeat with every passing minute.
Matthew Stevens arrived about 5pm. He was all fred up, stating he
36 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
wanted to play nine frames. No problem. I was the one holding a
hypnotic cue, and he could have as many games as he wanted.
Despite the bravado, he was in no real hurry to play. He ‘blethered’ to
Stephen and David Noble for about a hour.
In the other side of the room, Scott was trying to drag me into a
conversation about school. The holidays were ending in a couple of
weeks, he reminded me. He told me not to take any of this too seri-
ously, and argued I should get back to school for more qualifcations.
“Think again Scott!” I thought and then thought again, “Don’t get me
thinking, Scott! Don’t get me thinking!”
Of course I was thinking, but in a nice way. Music videos repeated
in my mind’s eye—glamour, cars, houses, exotic locations and cool
friends. Like that Nickleback video I had seen a number of times—I
wanted to be a rock star.
Scott pushed me to make a decision. Fortunately, Stevens announce-
ment that he was ready to play ended this unwelcome conversation.
Stevens probably wished he had talked some more, as I gave him
the thrashing of a lifetime—fve games to nil. He scored less than 30
points in the entire match.
I had learned my lesson well.
Stevens was, for the frst time in his life, lost for words. The others
joined him in his silent tribute of awe and bewilderment. How long we
stood, dumbstruck, is hard to say. Mandy eventually took us out of
our trance by offering coffee and sandwiches. She had warmed to me
and our cause in the last couple of days.
Then, Hendry came out with a big shocker.
Out of nowhere he made us a proposition, right there and then, while
we were tucking into our sandwiches and Battenberg slices.
It went like this: he would reimburse all our expenses up till now and
would bankroll the three of us, modestly of course, until I started
The Three Ruffans 37
earning money. In return, he would take a cut of my winnings. He had
asked for 20%, but Noble whittled him down to 15%. Scott and Noble
were already in for a 10% cut each, plus expenses. There were mil-
lions to be won in the pro-circuit, and I intended to win every penny.
After all, what’s 35% of fve or even eight million … quite a lot actu-
ally. This occurred to me some months after these arrangements had
been made. Eventually, I would need to cut loose from them all.
But that night I dreamt of money, swimming pools and limousines. I
wished for it so badly.
The next day came the big break we were all waiting for, as if to fulfl
my wishes.
CHAPTER 12
A Brazilian Odyssey
“Brazil,” shouted David Noble. “Brazil wants us. Yes!”
“Brazil—whit?” Scott quizzed.
“Yep—Brazil. Stephen put me in touch with a contact of his over there.
He met him during th
e Masters.”
“I remember that now,” recollected Scott. “Did he no get humped by
the boy Murphy over there?”
“Aye, he got the tanning of a lifetime,” David replied. “But he made
good friends with the organisers. He was the original ‘Boy Wonder’.
One thing’s led to another—contacts within contacts and more con-
tacts. We’ve been offered a two week demo tournament in Rio, to pro-
mote the game, and then a place in the Brazilian Masters. It couldn’t
be better.”
“Yesss …” I said at last. “How much money will I make?”
“We’ll make plenty,” Dave answered confdently. “There’s forty thou-
sand dollars just for winning the competition.”
“Is that a lot?” I asked naively.
“Loads, and that’s after we clean up in Rio. So are you up for it?”
I was. David Noble was certainly up for it. He had been given an ex-
tended break from his teaching job—a sabbatical he called it. He was
hoping to make a fortune out of this little caper.
But I think he also wanted an adventure out of this. It was an experi-
ence he had never known, the glamour of doing the tours, of being a
champ, or at least being near one in a competition.
Scott was less certain about it all. Work had gone easy on him, but
38
A Brazilian Odyssey 39
now the pressure was on. After a stack load of phone calls, an agree-
ment was reached—a six month break from full time work. He could
tour and still work shifts when he was home. Ideal!
His wife gave him a bit of an earful over the phone; so, he headed
home to sort it out.
I don’t know how David explained it to his family. He had barely seen
them the last few weeks, spending most of his time in Auchterarder.
Now he was off again.
Hendry’s eyes lit up when he heard the news. I think he was getting
ready to pack a case, but his wife had other ideas.
CHAPTER 13
An Offer we Couldn’t Refuse
Brazil was fantastic! Being in Rio De Janerio was like being in a Pit-
bull Video. We were in a hotel right by the beach, which stretched as
far as the eye could see. It took the three of us a while to adjust to the
heat after a summer of rain in Scotland. I was very pale compared to
the locals, and drew some looks and giggles.
At one point, we thought they might have recognised me from the
videos online, but snooker was a minority, albeit an up-and-coming
sport here, and it was unlikely. David Noble was as pale as me, but he
rarely took his top off. Scott already had a bit of a tan. How anyone
can get tanned in Scotland is a complete mystery. He absolutely and
fatly denied lurking around tanning salons.
We were in Rio for almost two weeks. For about eight of those days, I
put on snooker displays at night, either attempting (and getting quite
a lot) of 147 breaks, or playing against local talent. I had so many