Here is a poem about Graeme Dott, who came second in the snooker World Championship this year. He won it in 2006. He’s a quiet character and so doesn’t always get noticed as much as other players, even when he’s as good. He had depression after his manager, who was also his father-in-law, died. He has a wife called Elaine. The title of the poem is from a line in Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s The Power of Love.
A sky-scraping dove
You are Graeme “Pocket Dynamo” Dott. Even though you were champion of the world for a whole year, the last thing you expect is to be recognised.
There is what politicians would call a “disconnect” between you and your walk-on song, the 1984 hit Two Tribes, which kept Frankie Goes to Hollywood at No.1 for nine weeks. You argued for The Power of Love,
“When the chips are down, I’ll be around
With my undying, death-defying love for you”
but were overruled on the grounds that it suggested you lacked the killer instinct and could be made to cry by mentioning your wedding day.
You are Graeme “Pot the Lot” Dott. If you google yourself you can watch Ronnie O’Sullivan flashing a 147. When asked for your autograph, you anticipate that your primary emotions will be embarrassment and anxiety about your own mortality. Your main source of nutrition is Irn-Bru. You have at least three novels in you, all of which are set in the giant shadows of the Highlands and Islands. In another life, you’ll use your long, fragile neck to create some of the most daring poses the world of ballet has ever seen.
All you ask for from a dressing room is a blow heater.
You are Graeme “Dott the Pot” Dott. You rubbed against grief until the rims of your eyes turned red and it hurt when you tried to sleep. In an interview for the BBC, just before your third World Championship final, you said that time heals everything.
