Magical World Championship is among sport's finest treasures

It goes beyond just a high regard or even a love for many of us. It definitely crosses the line into fixation, as we once more head into Sheffield's heady fortnight.

And do you know what? I think we're quite right to be that way too. Make no mistake, this is a monumental event, not just in snooker but across all of sport.

I know that many of you like me will effectively have your months and years, indeed your lives, mapped out by sport.

If it's the depths of winter, it's Six Nations rugby. Spring means Aintree and Augusta. High summer is the green grass of Wimbledon and the Open Championship. Wonderful constants that keep us chugging along, just about on the straight and narrow, even when we're being swept along by life's erratic currents.

The World Championship is a perfect example. It's the middle of April. It's Sheffield time. We're ready to hunker down for 17 long days and nights and immerse ourselves in an event that lasts as long as the Olympics – and we don't have to wait four years for every edition.

Some of you will be lucky enough to have a golden ticket for the Crucible. If so, it won't be just a trip or a visit to Sheffield in the offing for you. It's always been deeper than that. Snooker fans go on pilgrimage to south Yorkshire.

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All the things that matter most in this sport have happened in that room in the last half century. Terry Griffiths telling David Vine: "I'm in the final now, you know." Alex Higgins crying for his baby. An ashen-faced Steve Davis barely able to speak as Dennis Taylor waves his cue in the air and waggles his finger. Joe Johnson shaking his head, smiling, as he clears the balls for the most surprising of triumphs. Stephen Hendry winning and winning, and then winning some more.

In more recent times we've had Stuart Bingham claiming a fairytale world title success and saying "winner, winner, chicken dinner" on television straight after. Mark Williams, fuelled by kebabs and sweets, beating John Higgins in surely the greatest final of them all. Snooker's most dramatic day, in the middle of a global pandemic, with a deciding frame between Kyren Wilson and Anthony McGill that brought both players to their knees. Ronnie O'Sullivan winning his seventh world title and collapsing into the arms of Judd Trump.

There are countless more moments too. Close your eyes for a few seconds and reflect on some of your favourites. A vibrant carousel of images bobbing up and down. So many are just plain magical. Some are haunting. Whatever age you are, you'll have your own precious Crucible memories.

It struck me while watching the final round of the Masters at Augusta last weekend that it feels like a different experience following that event in the UK now, with the free to air television element disappearing. Watching the climax of the Masters was a treasured ritual for millions of viewers in this country, but those days are over.

It's the same for a lot of sport that's switched to pay television. Test cricket. The Ryder Cup. Formula One. Of course they're all still available and if you care enough, you'll likely find a way to see them. But that unmistakeable collective feeling has gone.

That isn't the case with the world snooker. It's still all there at the easy click of a button. Live on the BBC, as it has been since the 1970s.

Switch on the telly in the next two weeks and you'll see Hazel and her big folder of notes, hear JV marvelling at the things that happen on a 12 foot by six foot table, and listen to Dennis telling that Perrie Mans anecdote for the 27th year in a row.

It strikes me now that I'm possibly going down too much of a misty-eyed route here. It's been said that nostalgia is best consumed in small doses and 800 words is probably more than enough for anyone.

Snooker isn't just about being a comfort blanket, I know that. There are new voices, new ideas, new frontiers. All that is absolutely vital too. Pressing forward in these busy times is essential.

But this event has a way of turning us all into sporting poets. To go back to where I started, the tournament really is an obsessional thing. It consumes us.

So I'll finish here by saying very simply, enjoy it all. The World Championship at the Crucible is an event to be treasured, always. A sporting tournament that delivers the goods every time and one that we should be immensely proud of as snooker people.

We'll all feel the comedown on May 7. So until then, drink it all in. These are the days, my friends. These are the days.

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