Da dun, da dun, da dun. The sound belts through the O2 auditorium like a heartbeat as the audience count down the final 10 seconds' play of the "powerzone", a fast and furious two‑minute double point bonanza triggered by potting the "powerball" in snooker's new format: Power Snooker.
Likened to the Twenty20 model in cricket, Power Snooker is fast and noisy with audience interaction and the curious sight of Page 3 girls accompanying the stars of the game to the table in short black dresses and killer heels. Oasis songs scream through the speakers and the predominantly male crowd sing along waving their plastic beer glasses and emitting the odd belch.
According to Barry Hearn, chairman of the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association, this is the future. Hearn believes snooker needs to appeal to a younger audience with shorter attention spans (hence the 30‑minute games) and a penchant for beer and boobs. The format has his seal of approval and, despite hurrying away early to watch his beloved Leyton Orient and missing the evening session he was said to be thrilled by its debut.
The 1,720 punters who made it to the event quickly adapted to the new permissive atmosphere, inventing songs and chants such as – to the tune of Kumbaya – "Ding Junhui my lord, Ding Junhui", or chanting "cheat stick!" whenever a player used the rest. There were sniggers when the referee Michaela Tabb called out Junhui's score of 69 in the final but in the main the heckling was affectionate, "Who needs X Factor? We've got Michaela!" they sang, or "Add me on Facebook!"
When the chants crossed the line of decency Tabb wagged a single white gloved finger to indicate her dismay. "Usually at a normal tournament we would turn round and tell them to stop," said Tabb, "but what the organisers have said here is just for now let the audience go, so we're to suck it up and get on with it." Tabb seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the game's potential. "It is really, really good. The players are enjoying it. It's putting pressure on them, I can see that. A couple of times they've missed shots they wouldn't normally have missed. And I love the crowd making up their little songs and signs – aside from the personal stuff – it's fantastic."
Ronnie O'Sullivan best demonstrated how exciting the game can be when, in the final and down nine points to Junhui's 151, the crowd favourite potted the power ball to spark a fast round of non-stop action taking his score from nine to 169 in a few minutes. The magician had finally found his groove and the crowd roared with appreciation.
Afterwards, having won by 572 points to Junhui's 258, O'Sullivan sank back into a sofa and reflected on the day. The man known for struggling with periods of depression had a sparkle in his eye, and a wave of nostalgia flowed over him as he compared the atmosphere at the O2 to his days competing as an amateur at Pontins in Prestatyn.
"People see snooker on TV and think it's quiet but we've lived in snooker halls and we're used to noise and banter … ever since we was growing up you hear the fruit machines playing, people playing cards, playing for money, missing balls, punching the table, screaming, you know, fights and arguments going on in clubs – that's what snooker halls have always been like, a hustler's atmosphere of people trying to put you off or trying to jog your cue at the back."
With a nod to his first opponent of the day, the 15‑year‑old Luca Brecel of Belgium whom he described as a future world champion, O'Sullivan recalled his own days as a teenager, making the amateur final at Pontins and just how much it meant. "There was a vibe – like electricity in New York – in the air at Prestatyn, there was something kind of magical about it … We remember them days as snooker players. This is taking snooker back to its roots."
The purists will no doubt disagree but there is no denying that the new format is entertaining. Whether it is here to stay we shall have to wait and see.