Jumping the cue

Except he’s not. He’s Pankaj Advani, he’s 19 years old and he’s the newly crowned Asian Billiards champion.

At an age where his contemporaries are agonising over a new hair style, a pair of ripped jeans or Mallika Sherawat, Advani is contemplating his prospects at this week’s world billiards tournament in Malta. There, says Yasin Merchant, one of his seniors, a top contender to win the title.

Is he for real?

His age isn’t the only thing that sets him apart from even his green-baize group. Nor his amazing tally of titles — child prodigy at 10, junior national snooker title at 14, senior national snooker title at 16, world snooker title 17.

Ask the greats what his USP is and you get an idea of what Advani’s all about.

‘‘His speed of thought and ability to learn’’, says his mentor and foster-father Arvind Savur.

‘‘Focus’’, says Merchant.

‘‘His strokeplay and concentration’’, says Michael Ferreira.

‘‘All of that’’, says his coach Manoj Kothari. ‘‘All of that and his zen-like calm. Nothing can get to him, no pressure is too great.’’

It’s all a long way from when he was was spotted by Savur potting shots at a Bangalore club. He was not even 10 then, and was playing at a kids’ table, but Savur saw the spark and invited the boy to his home. It was too far, so Savur says he would send the car and driver to pick up Advani.

Once there, though, Advani was faced with another problem: Savur’s table, raised to help with a back problem, was too high. Cutting the legs was not possible; end of story was in sight.

‘‘He asked me to grow up and then come back to him’’, Advani says. The boy was shattered, says Savur, but was back in a year’s time. ‘‘I don’t know whether it was fate, his willing it or just pure luck but he came back six inches taller’’, says Savur.

The coaching began in earnest.

They made an odd couple, the prodigy and the pro. Savur was — is — a maverick in a sport that cherishes tradition. He describes himself as an overweight extrovert with a fondness for drinks and dirty jokes. The boy, four decades his junior, came from a sheltered background, having lost his father at an early age and been raised under the fierce protection of his mother and brother.

‘‘He is very different from me’’, says Savur. ‘‘When he first came to my place he was a cute kid, extremely well-mannered. I never had a son and my daughter always wanted a brother. Very soon Pankaj became part of our family.’’

It would have been very easy for both to slip into an easy, indulgent routine. Or for Mrs Advani to push her child over the edge as obsessive parents do to gifted progeny. Instead, Advani spent most of his waking hours practising, often to the exasperation of his mother. ‘‘Once, before my maths exams, I went to the club and practised for two hours, I got a real scolding from my mother for that.’’

All the while Savur stood and watched, open-mouthed, at the talent. ‘‘No matter how difficult a shot was, all one had to do was just show him once and Pankaj would repeat it,’’ he says proudly.

The rest is current history. From being Karnataka state champion in 1997 through the national junior champion in 1999 to the world snooker title in 2003, Advani has achieved more at 19 than most of his current rivals have in double that time.

So where does the magic lie? If Savur talks about Pankaj’s astonishing grasping powers, the circuit has stories about his steady concentration on the balls on the table. World snooker champion Merchant, who once lost his national title to Advani, calls him the most focused young player he has seen in a long time. ‘‘It’s an extraordinary talent and will make him go a long way. At his age there are distractions but he remains focused.’’

Delhi’s rising star Manan Chandra once travelled with Advani to the UK to try the professional circuit. Things didn’t go too well for either, giving Manan opportunity to see Pankaj deal with failure. ‘‘The standard was too high, we had a tough time. But losing matches would not throw Pankaj into a depression or anything. He would start focusing on the next match, forgetting about the loss.’’

One man who’s seen it all is Michael Ferreira. His opinion? ‘‘There are two aspects to his game. One is his strokeplay, the other his level of concentration. His strokes are perfect but not the best in the business; he’s not three notches above the rest of the pack. That’s where his concentration helps him; it simply gives him the edge over everybody else.

Manoj Kothari is now Advani’s coach at ONGC. He’s trained many junior players, he says, but Pankaj is ‘‘special’’. Why? ‘‘Usually, if I tell a young player 10 things I am happy if he can grasp about six of them. With Pankaj it is different as he will improve in 12 different ways. Besides what I have taught him, Pankaj will apply my instructions in other aspects of the game.

What does Advani have to say about himself? Ask him about those famous powers of concentration, ask him what goes through his mind when it’s his turn with the cue and his reply is succinct: ‘‘Nothing.’’

He explains with the help of a cricketing phrase. ‘‘When I’m playing, when it’s my turn with the cue, I get into the ‘zone’. I am totally detached from everything, I don’t see the crowd around me or the opponent across the table. It’s just me and those balls on the green baize.’’

The latest example was in the final of the Asian Billiards Championships in Pune 10-odd days ago. he beat former world champion C Praput 5-0, including the third and fourth frames with a 100-0, 100-0 margin.

During the world snooker final two years back after being tied 5-5 after the first session, he won 11-6 at the end of second session.

Eventually, that old question resurfaces: Is he for real? You hear all the stories, you look at the list of titles and then you look at the tuft of gray. Advani catches you looking. With a smile playing on his lips, he says, ‘‘A Delhi journalist once wanted to check if my hair was dyed. If you meet him please tell him it isn’t.’’