In half-lit rooms, Sheffield moulds the snooker stars of the future

The first thing I notice is the confessional hush. As the door closes behind me, the noises of Haymarket and clamour of roadworks and trams falls away. As I pad towards the office, a few people glance up to look at me before turning their attention back to their training. Each snooker table is illuminated by a long panel of white lights. Nobody talks, and the only sound I hear is the clean, round click of snooker balls.

The players at Ding Junhui Snooker Academy are under the watchful eye of manager Lucky Vatnani, 36. He’s stationed at his desk, fielding calls and jumping between meetings. Like many of the players here today, Lucky relocated from his home country (he’s from Hyderabad, India) to live in Sheffield ten years ago. Why the move to Sheffield? “The Mecca of the sport, The Crucible, is here,” he says. 

This academy was founded by Chinese snooker star Ding Junhui, who is the most successful Asian player in the history of the sport. Since he beat seven-time world champion Stephen Hendry in the China Open at the age of 18, interest in his home country has skyrocketed, with more than 70 million people now playing a cue sport. In a 2018 Time article, fellow player Yan Bintao — who also trains in Sheffield at Victoria’s Snooker Academy on Scotland Street — said Ding is “like an elder brother to all of us. We worship him”.

Lucky says that at Ding’s academy, out of the 15 players who train regularly with them, 13 are professional. The players here live and breathe snooker. Lucky says the Chinese players don’t really have time for anything else other than training. “They don’t go out or enjoy the city centre because of language barriers,” he says. “[Snooker] is their life basically.”

Professional players will spend up to eight hours a day training. “It has to be like a job, from morning to evening,” Lucky says. One player I speak to says he usually trains from 9am until 6pm. He lives in the city centre, and lunch is usually a takeaway or something quick in the canteen because cooking takes too long. In 2021, he qualified for the World Championships at the Crucible but lost out to veteran John Higgins.

I head out of the office and make my way around the tables to meet a few more players. I’m allowed to take photographs while they are training — I can’t help but feel that the click of my shutter is distracting. I know the professionals are probably unfussed, but in the excruciating stillness, I’m reluctant.

I meet Nutcharut Wongharuthai, “Mink” to her fans, who is 22 and from Thailand. One of the best female players in the world, she’s currently the only known woman to have a maximum break of 147. A maximum break is when a player pots all 15 red balls with 15 blacks for 120 points, which is then followed by all six colours for 27 points. It’s a significant achievement, and Nutcharut did it when she was still a teenager.

Later this month, Ding’s academy is hosting the World Women's Snooker Championship, and Nutcharut is competing. “I’m confident,” she says. “My dream is to be a champion.” She’s dressed in a baggy jumper with a tie-dye pattern and bright orange and white trainers — in fact, everyone is wearing trainers. The relaxed clothing is a stark contrast to the formality of tournaments, the dress code of which evokes “a nineteen-thirties music hall”, in the words of a New Yorker journalist. When Nutcharut flashes me a smile, I see she’s wearing braces.

Nutcharut started playing snooker when she was 12, and made her professional debut at 17. In her young career to date, she has earned £50,000 in winnings. Her father was a snooker coach, and she used to play the game for fun. “Now, there’s pressure and expectation,” she says. I ask if this pressure comes from just herself. She shakes her head. “All — my family, my fans.” 

The smile vanishes as soon as we finish talking, and she leans into the table and lines up her shot. I see what Lucky is talking about: Nutchurat is composed, calm and focused. Her expression is one of stern concentration. Time seems to stop for a split second. I watch as she pots ball after ball, click, click, click. That stillness and focus is “a feeling you really want,” Lucky explains to me. “That feeling is very addictive.”