training with Hendry and Maguire.
CHAPTER 17
The Most Excellent Master
The training few by. This time, instead of trying to mesmerise Hendry
and Maguire, I let them teach me and allowed them to play their game
in practice matches. My skill in magic had grown immensely since
last May.
My experience with Murphy, showed me that someone could all but
overcome the power of the cue. What if word had spread? There was
nothing online or in the papers, but what if he had gossiped and every
opponent resisted? I didn’t think they could. I didn’t think Murphy
could resist my hypnotic cue anymore, but,
“The clever man covers all angles.”
As Maguire used to say.
Now and again I would mesmerise them, but only slightly. I was learn-
ing to control the power emitted by the cue, and it felt good. What I
tuned down towards my them, I modulated it my way, and played
much better in the tough snookers and diffcult shots.
Hendry just couldn’t resist a competition. He joined me, Noble and
Maguire as we headed down to London by train.
I stuck to my script.
I used all the cunning my mentors instilled in me and combined it
with the magic I had given myself. I wasn’t too showy and I gave Mur-
phy nothing to latch onto. But that didn’t stop his watching me like a
hawk. I was sure he was gossiping about me with other players.
What did it matter? I was the favour of the month. The media loved
me and would see him as bitter if he said a word.
The Daily Mail called me The Wonder Kid, and the rest followed suit.
The Metro’s covering of the story pointed out that Jan Ulrich, the
51
52 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
Tour De France winner had been called it frst. I never read newspa-
pers, but Hendry read them all and kept me up to date with the best
stories about me. The Wonder Kid was alright, I suppose, but I pre-
ferred The Destroyer, well who wouldn’t?
During the competition, Hendry and Noble made me watch all the
live and recorded games, and then endless hours would be spent ana-
lysing them. More hours would be spent reconstructing the diffcult
shots and snookers and working out solutions in the practice room.
It was pretty boring. Looking back now, I can see they were just try-
ing to help. To be a champ, you have to be disciplined.
I also appreciated it when I met Murphy in the Semi-Final.
It was all a bit uncomfortable. No smiles and he wouldn’t catch my
gaze. The best I got was a ‘wetfsh’ handshake.
He won the toss yet again, and true to form he played a very clever
game. But that was his mistake. This time I was prepared for the clev-
er game. The harder Murphy made it, the harder I punished him.
He was slaughtered, and the media circus really took off. I declined
all interviews, creating an aura of mystery, as directed by David. We
were holding out for a big pay-out on that one. As if we hadn’t earned
enough even with the accumulation of 147’s I had scored.
I faced last year’s winner, Neil Robertson in the fnal, or should I say,
he faced me. I wanted to win in style. He didn’t know what hit him.
He was left stunned and humiliated, while I was the victor.
To the victor go the spoils—trophy, prize money and bonuses were
all mine.
I had won the Masters. I was The Champion. The youngest ever cham-
pion.
No one like me had been before, and no one would ever be like me
again.
CHAPTER 18
Deus ex Machina
No, no one was like me again, not even me.
Shortly after the Masters win, we were back on the road for our
Spring Tour We charged almost double the fees of our Autumn Tour,
and David Noble upped his cut to 25%. I was happy to go along with
this, for the moment that was.
Our last venue was in Israel. It was planned that we would return
home; have a bit of a rest, and then execute the old plan of my attend-
ing Q-School and getting into the professional circuit.
We few into Tel Aviv. It reminded me so much of Rio. Walking on the
beaches, I had fashbacks of music videos and reminisced about my
frst tour. In some ways it was still the best.
We had arrived a few days early as David wanted to see a Uri Geller
show. Tel Aviv is his home town, and he was home to promote his lat-
est gimmick ‘The Next Uri’.
David was a life-long fan.
Reader, if you haven’t heard of Uri Geller, then let me tell you he
was the David Blaine or Chris Angel of his day. Back then the best
Uri got up to was ‘bending spoons’. I know, I know—it’s hard to see
how anyone could get excited about that, but really old people—say
people that are 35, or even older, like this kind of thing. David Noble
may have been as old 40 at this time. It’s hard to imagine being that
old, isn’t it?
I got dragged along reluctantly. To my surprise, the show was quite
good fun. Let’s face it you get caught up in the moment, don’t you? It
wasn’t just Uri Geller, there was a bunch of them on stage showing off
how they could be the next Uri Geller. I wondered what they did with
those bent spoons.
53
54 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
With a few days to kill until I did my show in Tel Aviv, David arranged
a tour of the area, as he always did in new countries with time to kill.
The frst stop was the ‘Dead Sea’. It was a crazy. You foat on the
water—you can’t sink, no matter how hard you try; although it’s
actually not a good idea to try because the water is so salty it will burn
your eyes out. David Noble ended up screaming, as he had nicked
himself shaving that morning. He wasn’t alone.
Later in the afternoon we headed North to Jerusalem, and booked
into the Crowne Plaza Hotel. It was our usual hotel as David said
they had the best Wi-Fi connections, which he said he needed to keep
in touch with his ‘contacts’.
The next day, we wandered around the tourist areas of the city. The
place was packed, and it was hard get through the crowds. Jerusalem
was busier than normal because it was Easter time. Everyone seemed
to be shouting, screaming and squashing into each other.
My head hurt.
Needing a break from the crowds and the heat, we stopped for a
cup of coffee at the Café Kadosh. I actually had a frappuccino to cool
down. When we left, the street was even busier. A whole group of peo-
ple had converged, just down from the café.
Walking past them, I saw a big sign with the word JETS on it. There
were other banners, but this one caught my eye.
When I was at school, I used to love jets and all kinds of aircraft. I
even started to make a website about jet-air planes, but changed my
mind half-way through, and made a James Bond website instead. It
almost won a prize for the best website of the year, and you can still
fnd it online.
I sauntered over to have a look, but when I got there I read the small-
e
r writing on the banner: Messianic Crusade in Association with Jor-
dan Evangelical Theological Seminary. The JETS had nothing to do
with planes at all. I knew that word ‘Theological’. “This whole thing
is to do with religion,” I thought. “I’ve been tricked!”
Deus ex machina 55
I looked round. There were people with guitars trying to sing; some
were handing out leafets; some were getting screamed at by guys
decked out in black. They looked weird. They wore black hats, black
trousers and black shoes. The had curly black hair dangling down
the sides of their heads. The only thing white, was their shirts, which
were buttoned up tight at the neck. How could they dress like that in
this heat? They guitar group were trying to argue back with the men
in black, and every second word used by both groups was Jesus.
The men in black were getting ready to attack. In the distance, police
were mustering.
“C’mon Steiner!” requested David as he gripped my arm. “Let’s get
the hell out of here, quick!”
We turned to leave but blocking our way was a woman with long,
bright red hair and slightly old fashioned clothes.
“Hello Steiner. Tarry ye a while and heed the Word of the Lord,” she
said in a Scottish accent. I couldn’t work out where she was from, but
it wasn’t Murray, nor Fife, maybe the Highlands.
“How do you know my name? Who are you?” I asked puzzled for a
second, then realised, how could she not know my name? I was fa-
mous in Scotland.
“I am Shelia McLaughlan, the Prophetess of the Lord and the Lord
hath revealed your name unto me … for The eyes of the LORD run
to and fro throughout the whole earth, and moreover God hath re-
vealed your great folly, Steiner Sanderson,” she replied emphatically.
“Look!” David cut in, cutting her off and grabbing my arm again in
the process. “I’m actually a Humanist. We don’t believe in God and
we’re a bit busy at the moment.”
“The Fool hath said in his heart ‘There is no God’. How dare ye lie
unto the Most Holy God and resist His will!?” she scolded.
At this, David turned; fell over and cracked his knee on the pavement.
No one really noticed as all eyes were watching the police break up
56 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
the argument between the guys with beards and the guys with guitars.
I tried to see if he was alright, but Sheila started again, “There is
a great darkness over you, Steiner. You have consulted witches that
peep and mutter. Like Simon Magus, you have used sorcery to make
yourself great. But your heart is not right with the Lord”
“What? What are you talking about?” I asked not believing what I
was hearing. “I was told to watch out for people like you!” I blurted
out in a panic.
“Like Jannes and Jambres, who fought against Moses before the
throne of Pharaoh, those women fght in vain against the Lord, even
as ye do now!“
“Behold, the power of the Lord!”
I felt a slap in my face and a thump in my chest, just like a blast from
a powerful speaker at a concert, and I fell over onto the ground lying
beside David, speechless. No one was near me. No one had touched
me.
She closed her eyes and started to ‘pray’, but was quickly surrounded
by police who escorted her away with the others.
No one paid attention to us, and we got up and walked back to our
hotel. I walked, David limped quite a bit. It was still too noisy to actu-
ally talk about what happened, but that didn’t stop chewing it over in
my head and wondered how she could know those things about me.
Even Chris, the witch, had to prompt me for information. I had told
no one. Maybe Chris or the assistant had blabbed, But this woman
just did not seem the sort of person to hang around magic shops, nor
covens in Dunfermline.
I was greatly troubled by it. My thinking had begun again in earnest.
But as I would learn, this was just the beginning of our trouble.
CHAPTER 19
Good Cop, Bad Cop
I’d been robbed.
As soon as I got back at my hotel room, I immediately knew something
was wrong. Things looked out of place and moved. My bag was open
(I had only taken that with me, the rest of our stuff was in the Crowne
Plaza in Tel Aviv). I looked inside the bag and found the cue case—
open and empty. I took it everywhere for safety, and just couldn’t
believe it was gone. I frantically searched the room, and shouted for
David Noble who was in the room just opposite me.
He joined in the search.
It was gone! So was my James Bond watch. I could buy another of
those anytime, but the cue was irreplaceable.
My heart sunk; my legs grew weak and shaky; panic overtook me.
The hotel management called in the police, who took statements and
tried to console us.
“Look!” said Offcer Jerayesh in his best English. “You know, some-
times these are inside jobs—the staff set it up for the pale …, I mean,
you know, the poor kids. They cross the Wall and get everywhere in
this city. They steal and scuttle back like little rats. But we help you
get your watch back.”
“And my cue,” I pleaded.
“No, no no!” he argued. “Some kid playing pool with that? Where a
hotel? Too much money to play here. No No. It will be used to smack
their sharmuta, or skewer their shwarma. You buy another! We’re
too busy to look for a stick.”
“But I need that one. You don’t understand,” I insisted, barely paying
attention to the ‘Busy’ word.
57
58 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
“You rich,” Offcer Baruch, piped in. “You play on telefshon … you
buy anothar steeck.”
They left the hotel to my cries of protest which grew fainter and faint-
er by the second.
Those two were useless. Talk about Good Cop, Bad Cop—those two
were Bad Cop, and Crap Cop. Judging by the size of Jerayesh’s belly,
they were probably off to buy falafel and kebabs.
How could I play now? It was gone. I was fnished. How would I tell
David Noble and the rest of the world? I just stood there in silence.
After a while, David suggested we take a walk outside again. It had
grown dark and was quieter outside he informed me. I followed him
outside in something of a daze.
And then, quite the most unbelievable thing happened.
CHAPTER 20
To Catch a Thief
We left the hotel, and walked towards the taxis. It was quite a distance
to the main coffee shops. We didn’t want to walk too far at night, David
was still limping after all! He started some negotiations with the taxi
driver. We had been ripped off about a hundred times in about a
dozen countries to know better than to just jump into a taxi without
sorting the price frst.
Just then, two boys, aged about 12 or 13, emerged from the back of
the hotel. One was holding a bag and the other was holding my cue!
I just froze, and stared at them. I was s
peechless. They must have
been in the hotel and robbing people all that time, or at least hiding,
waiting for the police to leave.
One of them gave me a fitting glance and a smile as they moved hastily
across the car park—that was my ‘cue’ to make a move.
“Give me back my cue!” I screamed.
“No, Steiner!” David screamed as he popped up his head from the taxi
window, only to see my running into the distance after the two boys.
They leapt over the car park wall and ran headlong into the traffc
and across the road. Horns blazed and tyres screeched. Before the
traffc could pick up speed, I darted through the gaps. Behind me
cries to stop were totally ignored.
They bolted down a narrow alleyway between some houses, the type
of alleyway we would call a vennel in Scotland. I gave hot pursuit.
They turned right, climbing over walls and jumping along fat roofed
buildings that were covered with cheap corrugated iron.
Now, there were a few things about me that they didn’t know.
The frst thing was I was brilliant at Parkour, or Free-running as we
59
60 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
used to call it in school. In case you don’t know about it, Parkour is
like open air gymnastics using buildings as apparatus. I had a year’s
worth of training at school in this sport, and had forgotten nothing in
the last few months.
I started to gain on them. They looked panicked. Before long, like
little cowards, they were screaming and shouting in their language.
They scrambled onto a wall, and darted along it. The wall was about
a foot wide, but had barbed wire along the top edge—a couple of
times I caught my jeans on it and almost fell off. Then they climbed
over the barbed wire, and jumped down the other side. I followed a
few seconds later.
I looked up into the darkness of the narrow alleyway. My eyes met with
a boy about 18 or 19. He was bigger than me and slouched against a
beat up old heap of a car—obviously some kind of get-away machine.
He stared at me, smiling at frst, but hearing the other boys shouting,
his face instantly changed. His eyes narrowed and his face dropped.
He squared up to me, swaggering like a Glaswegian, while the other
two dived into the car.
Now, the second thing they didn’t know about me was just how good I
was at boxing. Scott Milne had spent hours showing me how to punch
and spar—to work out the right combinations of jabs, hooks, upper-
cuts and crosses; to block blows and dodge the quickest of fsts.
This boy’s face had the look of madness about it. He said something
very low and threatening.
His voice turned to rage, as he ran at me to hit me.
He didn’t know what hit him.
As Scott always used to say:
“Slip to the inside -
right uppercut -