They call me โ€˜The Rocketโ€™ because of my speed. But the truth is, Iโ€™ve spent 30 years learning how to find the brakes.โ€ The talent was a gift. It came so naturally that I never had to think. I just played. The speed wasn’t just an attack on my opponent; it was a defense against the silence, against the thoughts in my own head. I was a prodigy at war with myself, and the snooker table was my battlefield. I won World Championships, I made 147s, but there were years I hated the sight of my own cue. The pressure wasn’t just to winโ€”it was the pressure to be the “genius” everyone expected, every single time. Some days, the weight of that was so heavy, I just wanted to walk away and never come back. The magic everyone saw on the table was fuelled by a darkness no one could see off it. It wasn’t another trophy that saved me. It was running. Miles and miles on an empty road, just the sound of my own breathing. Thatโ€™s where I learned discipline. Thatโ€™s where I learned stillness. I had to find peace away from the table before I could ever truly master it. The genius isn’t in your hands. It’s in the quiet mind you build after a lifetime of noise. It’s in learning to love the process more than the prize. What is the one battle you had to win against yourself to find true peace in your passionโ€ฆ.

August 28, 2025 Gistblogger 0

  For three decades, Ronnie Oโ€™Sullivan has dazzled the snooker world with a speed and flair unmatched in the sportโ€™s history. Known globally as โ€œThe […]