Player: Cliff Thorburn
Opponent: Terry Griffiths
Tournament: 1983 World Championships
Venue: The Crucible, Sheffield
Match situation: Last 16, best of 25, Griffiths led 2-1.
Canadian heartthrob Cliff Thorburn usually comes up in the first 2 or 3 names when talking about maximums in snooker. Some think it is the first one, or the first televised one, but in truth it is neither. It is, however, one of the most sartorially elegant ones. The plain tie and the modest flare to the trouser surely gifted the British Colombian break-builder greater aerodynamics that preserved his stamina deep into the maximum. The referee wears claret.
We're in the second round of the big one, crammed into half of the snooker hall-cum-sardine tin known as The Crucible. Brown carpets. Go faster stripes and a big papier mache statue of a pack of reds. The understated class of it all seeps out of the screen. Audience members wear their Sunday best.
Griffiths' break shot here is legendary, almost perfect, theoretically impregnable. Thorburn, known as the 'Grinder', wisely plays back to baulk. Not for nothing did this match finish at 4am.
Griffiths attempts to shave off the pack and scatters, but otherwise ends up safe. Thorburn, playing an attempted safety, hits his target red too thickly and opens the table up for even the most conservative player - only his first major fluke is to have the cue ball hampered by the yellow. Tel approaches the table, half-smiles, and plays a weak safety that misses its target. He sits down and picks up his already-lit cigarette and settles in:
Thorburn's second fluke commences the break: his opening red rattles the lower right jaw and is spat back across the table, where it caroms an adjacent red into the lower left pocket.
The clearance of the reds is as relatively straightforward as it gets when making the premier single frame achievement in elite snooker. The scattering from the early exchanges leaves a pathway for Thorburn to exploit with a surgeonly touch; there are no elaborate force shots and only one elaborate screw for position. Once or twice there are overruns, but much of this is pristine. There's even a shot with the half-spider.
Commentator Jack Karnehm decides to stop hyping the maximum, citing superstition at these things usually going wrong. All the while Thorburn, with his remarkably low stance, square on to the table, keeps his form true. When he hits the century, Thorburn stands and remarks Canadianly "I'm gonna take a little break here" and goes to mop his brow and strigil the sweat from his cue.
Thorburn's pal, the cult snooker hero 'Big' Bill Werbeniuk, was playing David Taylor on the next table. Werbeniuk requested play be stopped so he could watch Thorburn in full flight. This is captured in a masterful piece of direction.
Black to yellow shows signs of nerves, stopping a good yard short of position. He's too straight even if he can make the awkward pot. For the first time, Thorburn makes a shot with a less organic flavour to it, forcing the cue ball into the baulk rail. It rolls into perfect position for the green, a small piece of magic.
The remaining colours are played as if performing a tutorial. Jack Karnehm's legendary "good luck, mate" as Thorburn hovers over the final black cements this as one of the great sporting moments on British television. Thorburn is embraced by both his opponent and his great friend of many years.
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Apparently I watched this live with my grandad, but I have little memory of it as I was 2 months old. It's a slower 147 than many are used to, but the unerring precision of Thorburn's play coupled with the situation and rarity makes this one a treasure.
Judge's summary: Difficulty 6, execution 8, style 7, situation 8. Time 15.20
Final notes: Cliff Thorburn would win 13-12 and then would go on to lose the final against his compadre in being ex-World Champions who had scored televised 147s (Steve Davis).
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