Snooker legend Ronnie O'Sullivan's inner demons and how he fights them

It was a hug that seemed to stretch on for all eternity, becoming a bit awkward if Judd Trump’s restless hand patting a tearful Ronnie O’Sullivan ’s back was anything to go by.

Lasting over a minute on Monday night, the very public embrace between two besuited blokes centre stage of Sheffield’s stuffy Crucible Theatre, after Ronnie beat Trump 13-18 in the final of the World Championship, exuded a depth of emotion rarely seen in sport. And certainly not here, in snooker.

But on the other hand, this was Ronnie ‘the rocket’ O’Sullivan who had just won his seventh World Championship, equalling Stephen Hendry’s world record, the oldest to do so at 46, a player who has always struggled to guard his feelings, be they high or rock bottom - they’re rarely middling.

That is, of course, why he is snooker’s most charismatic draw, more compelling for his unpredictability than his mesmeric pace and accuracy, 21 Majors and seven Masters.

“I don’t know what to say. I was so emotional. I was emotional because of the drain and the effort and to finally just get over the line,” he explained afterwards.

“I just never thought it would happen and I just gave him a big hug and I’m just sobbing in his arms.”

By his own admission, Ronnie himself struggles to know how he will react next.

“I wish I was a bit more f****** stable,” he confided, a few years ago. “I kind of know who I am but I don’t like who I am, do you know what I mean?”

A child prodigy who potted his first century aged ten, Ronnie rose quickly in the sport, only for his form to become erratic after his idolised father, Ronnie Sr, was jailed for murder in the early Nineties, his snooker succombing to inner demons of self-criticism and perfectionism as well as drink, drugs and