Ronnie O’Sullivan studies his hands with a wry smile. These are the hands of The Rocket, the hands of a sporting magician and the best snooker player in history but O’Sullivan spent the morning bunching them into fists in a boxing gym. “I don’t mind if they get hurt,” he says on a sunny afternoon in Chigwell, Essex, “because I wouldn’t have to play in the world championships then.”
It seems a strange prelude to O’Sullivan’s attempt to become a world champion for a sixth time next month. Stephen Hendry holds the record for world championship wins in the modern game with seven but another title for O’Sullivan would be extraordinary. Snooker is much more competitive now and O’Sullivan has had to conquer the demons of his past and his disillusionment with the sport today.
“I know it sounds crazy but I wasn’t even sure if I was going to enter the worlds,” O’Sullivan says. “I probably will but it’s got to the point where I want to give snooker only 20% of my time. So I haven’t entered the worlds yet. I probably will enter but it’s not something I’m that bothered about.
“I’ve hardly picked my cue up since playing in Germany about a month ago. I don’t want to. I’m just filling up my day with things so I can’t play snooker. I’ve decided I want to box, I’m doing a few other little ventures and I’m filling up my day. Come six o’clock at night I’ve not been near a snooker table.”
O’Sullivan is only practising “about two hours a week” because he would prefer to be a pundit than a world championship participant. Stressing that “snooker has changed”, with prize money and sponsorship opportunities shrinking, O’Sullivan says: “I’m not a businessman but I’m not stupid either. If you go back five or 10 years I used to get good sponsorship for my logos. I was on £350,000 even before I hit a ball … now there is no money in snooker. The top players are suffering now. I don’t want it to come across as if I’m doing this for money. I just want what’s fair. I could get by the rest of my life if I never worked again but I want to be valued. Now I’m working with Eurosport I’m opening up new doors. I feel valued by them. That’s where I see my future.”
O’Sullivan has given up hope of trying to persuade snooker’s governing body and Barry Hearn, the sport’s dominant promoter, to address the issue of players’ lost revenue: “I’ve had chats with Barry Hearn and he ain’t gonna change it. He said: ‘Come on, let’s have a meeting.’ But I’ve had enough chat. I know Barry has got his own mindset. It doesn’t suit me. I’m willing to give snooker 10, 15, 20% but I need to do other things where I feel valued. I had the good times but it’s not any good any more. I don’t care what anyone says. They can say you’re getting this amount of prize money. But if you’re a top player it’s fucking shit. I want my security – and snooker ain’t going to give me that security.”
The 39-year-old O’Sullivan, ultimately, is more philosophical than strident. “Working with Steve Peters [the sports psychiatrist who has had such an impact on O’Sullivan, British cycling and Liverpool’s footballers] I’ve realised I’ve hit my head against the wall for enough years. I can’t waste my time with certain people. You just think: ‘This battle’s not worth fighting’.”
His latest resistance to snooker seems more reasoned, and resigned, when heard in the context of deeper personal struggles. O’Sullivan was only 16 and playing in an amateur snooker tournament in Bangkok when his father, Ronnie Sr, was sentenced to life imprisonment for murder in 1992. A year later his mother, Maria, was jailed for tax evasion. It seems startling to hear that the teenage O’Sullivan attempted to look after his little sister, Danielle, on his own.
“I tried to do the right thing. Mum and dad were away and it was me and my sister. She needed looking after. I didn’t do it that well. I turned to drink, drugs, whatever. My sister was only eight and I didn’t even have a driving licence so I couldn’t get her to school. I didn’t handle it great but I found a way. I’ll get through anything.”
How long did he and Danielle live on their own? “I tried to hold it down for three or four weeks but I then took her to my mum’s best friends, and Angie and Ray looked after her – which was the right thing to do.”
His mother spent only a brief spell in prison and his father was released in 2010 after 18 years. “He’s adapted pretty well,” O’Sullivan says of his dad. “It’s never going to be easy and I don’t think he’ll ever adapt completely but he’s got a nice routine and lots of friends. He’s spending time with me and Danielle. He’s doing pretty well when you think of his environment the last 20 years. He’s embracing every minute of being out. He’s appreciative of his freedom.”
O’Sullivan appears most appreciative of his children. He remembers the courage of his nine-year-old daughter, Lily, in a cross-country race last year with such warmth it seems more significant than his recent world record of 776 century breaks. “I was so proud of her, man. She ran for her school in the district. There were 11 schools and I was nervous for her because you’re on your own out there.
“So they set off and she’s overtaking girls and by the last 100m she’s coming third. Fucking hell! She’s running in the field outside. I’m racing along the bushes shouting: ‘C’mon Lil, relax your shoulders, keep it going …’ When she came back into the school for the finish I’ve never seen anyone so tired.
“Lily had nothing left. Two girls overtook her and she came fifth. But she crossed the line having given 250%. My daughter’s got more guts and determination than me. She was born with tenacity – a great quality.”
Is little Ronnie, a year younger, equally tenacious? “He’s lazier but he’s talented. Everything he does comes easy to him. He could study harder but he’s still top of the class. He’s a quick learner, that boy. I show him how to play snooker and, bang, he’s got it. Oh, he’s a lovely boy. He’s beautiful. He’s a handsome little fucker. He don’t take after me, that’s for sure.”
O’Sullivan will leave his family next month and, despite his misgivings, almost certainly play in the world championship in Sheffield. “It’s probably one of my least favourite tournaments,” he shrugs. “Seventeen days is too long.
“But, as a kid, I dreamed of being a world champion. It took me a while to win my first world title but once I’d done it success tasted nice. I thought if I can win three or four that would be great. One could be a fluke. Two? Some people have won two. Three? You’re getting to be a great player. Four? You’re on a level with John Higgins who is a master of the game. So I’m really happy to have won it five times.” He smiles at a mention of Hendry’s seven titles. “We’ll let him keep that one. I ain’t chasing that. I really like my life now. I’ve accepted that five is good and snooker is no longer what it once was for me. I just use snooker … rather than letting it use me.”
O’Sullivan has had a few world championship meltdowns at The Crucible. In the 2006 semi-final he was tied at 8-8 against Graeme Dott when he lost eight frames in a row. “Dott’s a good, tough player. He’s like a Jack Russell, snapping away, but he’s never going to play a phenomenal game that blows you away. I was struggling mentally. I couldn’t deal with my thoughts and emotions. I just kind of imploded and sabotaged it. I wanted to lose. I had a fucking meltdown. If I’d have won that match I would have had to play Peter fucking Ebdon for two days. I would’ve been in the mental house but I can deal with emotions much better now because of [the sports psychiatrist] Steve Peters.
“I’ll get through it and tomorrow’s another day. I’ve been a lot more successful because of that attitude. Steve’s a master of the mind and I’ve probably got 70% of it right now. That’s enough for me to be successful and be the person I want to be. So I only see him two or three times a year now. Part of me is not willing to invest more time because I’m playing snooker more for fun now.”
He lost in the world championship final last year to Mark Selby and it’s clear that defeat wounded him. “I didn’t play well that whole tournament and it was stuttery against Selby. I was disappointed that I’d lost to someone … put it this way, I’d much rather than lost to someone like Ding [Junhui] or … who else is there? I can’t think of anyone. I want someone to play the right shots, my kind of shots. I get baffled watching Selby. It’s effective but his white ball is all over the place and sometimes you think he’s gonna clear up and then he’s out of position. It’s an unsettling style. I’d much rather play Stephen Hendry, John Higgins, Ding, Judd Trump. So last year was difficult for me to deal with.”
He admits to being “taken apart” by Neil Robertson in the Masters two months ago when O’Sullivan’s 15-match winning streak ended in a 6-1 defeat to the world No1. Yet the feeling lingers that, should the mood take him, a sixth world title is possible. “I’m capable of winning it,” he says. “I’ll only go there with the appetite to win. I’m at that stage where I appreciate every win. I never did before. Now I think ‘Fucking hell, I’ve got the UK title, the Champions Cup …’ It’s not a good sign because it shows you’re coming to the end. But, in human terms, it’s a good sign.”
We go out into the garden and O’Sullivan talks about his boxing sparring partners. “They’re old-school boys ranging from 30 to 73. They’re all different. Mick the Greek is a big, strong guy who comes forward and hits hard. But they’re great, giving me tips, and it’s good to learn new things. I believe there’s an art to everything. You can do it either really well or really bad. The great ones just make it easy.
“We only hit to the body. It hurts but I said to one guy, ‘I love this’. He looked at me and said: ‘You’re mad.’ But I quite enjoy getting a few digs to the ribs. As long as you don’t kill me or break a rib, I’m all right. Pain is nothing. It comes and goes. I’ve had a great day so far – and it’s because of the boxing. It’s either that or sitting in your bed, waiting for something to happen.”
O’Sullivan grins as he remembers how Simon Hattenstone, his friend and the Guardian writer, “was on the campaign trail with Ed Miliband. Simon told me: ‘Ed’s a fucking fan’. Simon phones me and says: ‘‘‘Ere, speak to someone.’ Fucking Ed Miliband. I was on the phone for 10 minutes. I had to pull over because this could be the next prime minister. Most of the time I was saying: ‘Ed, I gotta go, it’s a terrible signal.’ But, in the end, I just said: ‘Good luck, mate.’ We all need it.”
The Rocket accepts a snooker cue. “It’s not your normal wand,” Tom Jenkins, the photographer, says. “No,” O’Sullivan smiles as he holds the strange cue lovingly. “But I bet I could turn it into a wand …”
British Eurosport is showing 19 snooker tournaments per season including the World Championship, 18 April to 4 May.