World Snooker Championship: Mark Williams holds off John Higgins to clinch third title in epic throwback final

It only took a few minutes of the evening’s play for a creeping sensation to take hold of the Crucible Theatre, a silent realisation that something was happening. Mark Williams began 15-10 ahead needing only three frames to clinch the world title, but he could only watch as John Higgins rattled off a sensational 131 break and added four more frames in a devastating spell, as everyone in the room felt the momentum sway.

But Williams is a man eternally unfazed; he spent the night before this contest celebrating his semi-final win over Barry Hawkins with a kebab and chips at two in the morning. In what unfurled into an epic contest between two great champions, he was wobbled by nerves but never derailed, not once letting Higgins get his nose in front, and eventually clinched his third title 18-16 – the same result as both his previous triumphs.

This was the extraordinary culmination of Williams’ comeback from the brink of retirement 12 months ago to reestablish himself at the top of the game. Higgins played his part in a gripping contest but he came up against a player without a weakness to exploit. Williams took home a £425,000 prize and at 43 became the oldest world champion since Ray Reardon beat Perrie Mans in 1978.

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“He’s bald, I’m grey. Bring it on,” Williams had said at the beginning of this throwback of a World Snooker Championship final. These days there may be a little more paunch sagging in the waistcoat but they are both still masters of their art. Most of Sunday’s prologue was a game of erosion, chipping away at each other like two champion conkers colliding; Monday was different, the contest shaped by slick breaks and magnetic control in a theatre utterly transfixed.

The Crucible is tantalising in the flesh: compact yet exposed, quaint yet electrifying, essentially just a windowless room in Yorkshire somehow transformed into a sporting coliseum. At times total silence descended, disturbed only by a flap of Williams’ baggy trouser leg or a scratch of chalk, and it felt captivating to watch two greats of the modern era do battle.

Williams and Higgins are part of snooker’s revered class of ’92 with Ronnie O’Sullivan, a trio who’ve now won 12 of the 20 world titles since Higgins clinched his first in 1998. Only Mark Selby has managed to consistently disturb their dominance. They are children of the 80s snooker boom, who stayed up late to watch Alex Higgins beat Ray Reardon under a plume of cigarette smoke, who were gripped by the black-ball drama of Dennis Taylor’s win over Steve Davis and turned glasses upside down in imitation, who soon immersed themselves in the snooker clubs opening across Britain.

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Williams is the least decorated of the trio, yet throughout this final he showed why he is often considered more naturally gifted than Higgins. The Welshman is one of the greatest long potters ever to touch a 12-foot table, with an ability to see shots opponents can’t and pot balls they dare not take on, like his brilliant three-ball plant on Sunday. That inventive, positive streak is part of Williams’ laid-back demeanour which has been both his blessing and his curse.

Twelve months ago he sat down at the kitchen table with his wife and discussed retirement after a disastrous season. Joanne persuaded him to continue but he also made a critical change, hiring Steve Feeney as his coach who has rejuvenated his game: he has gone deep into tournaments all season long, winning the Northern Ireland Open and German Masters, his first ranking titles for seven years, and establishing himself as the leading candidate for Player of the Season.

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In both Sunday and Monday’s opening sessions Williams racked up the first four frames, but on Sunday evening Higgins responded in kind, producing one of the outstanding spells of the match. His initial 131 set the tone and set off a ripple of excitement – is this possible? Then came a moment that stung: Williams was roaring along with 58 points on the board when a red to the left middle somehow bounced from jaw to jaw, jumping over the pocket and back out again. Higgins cleared up to make it 15-12.

The next two frames were a blur of potting, an 82 break and a 47, and Higgins skipped out of the arena at the mid-session interval with the score 15-14 and the Crucible thumping. He is nicknamed the Wizard of Wishaw but he is more like a snooker professor, a man who surveys the table like a maths problem on a chalkboard before etching his solution on the table.

Both players’ nerves were revealed when they returned, understandably so as the finish line beckoned. Williams missed a long red. Higgins juddered a pink in the jaws. Williams finally ended a 35-minute wait to pot a ball and put 47 points on the board, but a shaky red let his opponent back in and the Scot cleared the table once more. At 3.30pm, Williams had led 14-7; as the clocked ticked over 9pm Higgins drew level, 15-15.

Thereafter Williams found some reserves of mental strength. He fought hard to restore his advantage via two visits to the table, then moved 17-15 in front with a masterful 100 on the nose. Higgins scrapped another frame back from the jaws of defeat, clinching it 65-63 to send a roar through the Crucible, but Williams was unperturbed, setting up his title-winning visit with a trademark cut into the middle pocket to complete one of snooker’s most extraordinary stories, and to win one of the great World Championship finals.