The Ballad of Rocket Ronnie O'Sullivan and Shaun Murphy

Whether it is snooker's Ronnie O'Sullivan or his nemesis you are pulling for, the important thing is that their spicy rivalry got you to look.

Ronnie O’Sullivan, left, and Shaun Murphy have no love lost between the two, and their sniping and snide comments about each other have helped bring a bit of seasoning to snooker.

Have you picked a side yet in the rumbling spat between snooker players Ronnie O'Sullivan and Shaun Murphy?

It is rather difficult because they have both made perfectly valid points while exchanging hostilities.

Murphy has rolled his eyes at O'Sullivan's apparent lack of grace towards the sport. He scoffed at "The Rocket's" short-lived threat to withdraw from the current World Championships - "I don't think any of the players fell for that", he said - and bemoaned the fact that O'Sullivan neglects his ambassadorial duties.

Murphy also blasted O'Sullivan as "pathetic, offensive and unprofessional" when he initially refused to pot the final black of a 147 break last year, in protest at the meagre prize pot of £4,000 (Dh24,000).

O'Sullivan lashed back with a claim that: "I have done more for snooker than any player in the last 10 years in terms of putting bums on seats and making 147s."

The difficulty in choosing sides comes about because they are both right. Even at his current lowly ranking of world No 10, O'Sullivan is undeniably the greatest box office draw in snooker: an exciting, unpredictable, mercurial and mischievous icon of the green baize.

He is also a spoilt, whining brat who is in frequent need of the reality checks which Murphy seems happy to provide. As Murphy said when his nemesis was knocked out of the UK Championships at an early stage: "It is not all about Ronnie O'Sullivan."

If it helps to make a decision, you may wish to apply the Lennon-McCartney test.

Although it has been some time since anyone seriously described snooker as the new rock'n'roll, some comparisons remain applicable. If you have a favourite alpha Beatle - the tormented genius of spiky John or the cuddly commercialism of boy-next-door Paul - you should be able to pick between O'Sullivan and Murphy.

However, just as The Beatles as a group was greater than the sum of its parts, it becomes an inescapable conclusion that snooker needs both types of character.

If every player behaved like Murphy (or Stephen Hendry, Steve Davis and Terry Griffiths before him), the sport would be frighteningly bland. If every player behaved like O'Sullivan (or Alex Higgins and, arguable, Jimmy White) then it would seem ludicrous and chaotic.

Snooker is an unlikely place to find team players, but they are all pulling towards a single goal: entertainment.

Perhaps the players know this. Perhaps the public feuding between Murphy and O'Sullivan is as stage managed and synthetic as the tiresome trash talking we hear before every boxing match.

I can certainly imagine Murphy, who wants to enter politics after snooker, eagerly signing up for such shenanigans, knowing it raises the profile of both himself and the sport. But would O'Sullivan allow himself to be used in this way? I prefer to think not. I prefer to imagine that he really does speak from the heart, and that every petulant and brattish word or deed is driven by the same creative fire which makes him so mesmerising at the table.

Then again, I would say that, because I know whose side I am on. My heart lies with the spoilt brat O'Sullivan, tantrums and all.

And, at the time of this writing, the snooker gods favour him too: he is leading Murphy in the second round by nine frames to seven going into today's final session.

And I always did prefer Lennon, too.

A sign that Villa fans wish Houllier a full, and lengthy, recovery

Did a message bearing banner slip past the Aston Villa Thought Police on Saturday?

You may recall how, last month, a crudely painted bed sheet was hung from a stand at Villa Park. It read: "Had enough, Houllier out", a perfectly legitimate (if rather premature, in my view) declaration of dissatisfaction with manager Gerard Houllier.

The banner was swiftly removed by stewards and its creators bundled into a darkened room for a “re-education” process involving water, electricity, “truth serum” and a giant screen showing an endless loop of Monsieur Houllier smiling.

OK, I made a lot of that up – but the bit about removing the banner was true, despite its Orwellian undertones.

Then, last week, Houllier fell ill. The 63-year-old, who required emergency heart surgery in 2001, was admitted to hospital suffering chest pains. While his condition is not, thankfully, as grave as it was a decade ago, this is clearly a worrying development which could spell the end of his career.

The Villa fans’ emotions must be mixed. As human beings, they will wish Houllier all the best and hope for his recovery.

As football fans who were extremely vocal about the need to oust the Frenchman, it seems their wish may have been granted. Gary McAllister, the assistant manager, will hold the fort until May but the club will surely be considering their options for a more permanent and reliable replacement.

Perhaps that explains the wording of the latest bed sheet to grace Villa Park on Saturday: "Get well Gerard."
Did you notice the missing word? It was not "Get Well Soon" – the more commonly used phrase in such circumstances– but simply "Get well." Perhaps they wanted to write: "Get well Gerard – not soon, exactly, but in a slightly longer period of time than it takes for the board to sign David Moyes."

But, with the Thought Police around, perhaps they did not dare. Or they could not find a big enough sheet.