The sound of a snooker cue hitting a ball should be a clean, crisp "click." Lately, that sound has been replaced by a sickening "thud" followed by a ball veering off its intended path. It’s called a kick. It’s the bane of every professional’s existence. Now, Neil Robertson has had enough. He’s calling for a flat-out ban on the specific brand of chalk Ronnie O’Sullivan and several other top players have started using.
If you think complaining about chalk sounds like whining, you don't understand the physics of a 12-foot table. When a tiny speck of debris gets trapped between the cue ball and the object ball, it creates a momentary grip where there should be a slide. The balls "jump." The result is a missed pot that would’ve been a certainty 99 times out of 100. Robertson isn't just annoyed. He's claiming this new Taom V10 chalk is actually damaging the game's integrity by leaving heavy residue that ruins the playing surface for everyone else.
The Friction Problem with Taom V10
For decades, snooker players used traditional chalk that was dusty and messy. It got everywhere—on your hands, on the table, and on your vest. But it was predictable. A few years ago, the Finnish company Taom changed the market with a round, green chalk designed to eliminate kicks almost entirely. It worked. Suddenly, players weren't getting those random bounces anymore.
The issue Robertson is highlighting involves a specific newer iteration of this technology. While it stops the person using it from getting kicks, it leaves a "greasy" or "waxy" film on the balls. When the opponent comes to the table, they’re playing on a surface contaminated by their rival's equipment. Robertson is vocal about the fact that if one player uses a substance that negatively impacts the balls for the other player, that substance shouldn't be legal.
Ronnie O’Sullivan, never one to shy away from gear tweaks, has been a visible proponent of this new-age chalk. He likes the grip. He likes the control. But snooker is a game of millimeters. If the table isn't playing "true" because of a chemical residue, the skill gap shrinks. Luck starts to play a bigger role than it should. That’s exactly what Robertson is trying to prevent.
Why This Isn't Just Professional Grumbling
You might wonder why the referees don't just clean the balls. They do. Constantly. But the modern game is played at such a high speed that you can't ask a ref to polish every ball after every single shot. It would kill the flow. It would bore the fans.
Robertson’s argument rests on a few key points:
- The residue is harder to remove than traditional calcium carbonate chalk.
- It creates an uneven playing field during a match.
- The "benefits" for the individual player don't outweigh the collective cost to the sport's standards.
I’ve seen matches where a player is on a break of 50 or 60, playing perfectly, only for a "heavy" ball to skew a simple black into the jaw of the pocket. When that happens because of a choice another player made regarding their chalk, it feels like a soft form of sabotage. Snooker boards and governing bodies have strict rules about cue tip sizes and cloth types. Why should chalk be a free-for-all?
The Science of the Kick
To understand why Robertson is so fired up, you have to look at the friction coefficient. Standard snooker balls are made of phenolic resin. They’re designed to be incredibly smooth. When you apply "side" or "spin," you’re relying on the friction between the cue and the cue ball. However, you want zero friction—or as close to it as possible—at the point of contact between the two balls.
When this new-age chalk transfers from the tip to the cue ball, and then to the object ball, it creates a "tackiness." This tackiness makes the balls cling together for a fraction of a millisecond longer than they should. This is what causes the ball to "climb" or "kick." It’s basically physics working against the player. Robertson’s point is that while the user of the chalk avoids the kick, the "leftover" chalk on the balls makes it more likely for the next person to suffer. It’s a selfish advantage.
A History of Equipment Controversies
This isn't the first time snooker has faced a crisis over its tools. We’ve seen debates over "tempered" tips and the move from wood to carbon fiber cues. But chalk is different because it’s a consumable that stays on the table.
Think back to the transition from the old "Triangle" chalk to the first Taom versions. That was generally seen as a massive leap forward. It made the game cleaner. But this latest shift feels like a step too far into the world of chemical engineering. When players start complaining that the balls feel "greasy," the governing body (WST) has to listen.
Robertson is one of the most technically proficient players to ever pick up a cue. He’s a purist. When he says something is wrong with the equipment, the industry usually pays attention. He isn't just some guy struggling for form looking for excuses; he’s a former World Champion who wants the table to remain a neutral battleground.
What Happens if a Ban is Implemented
If the WST actually listens to Robertson and bans specific brands or types of chalk, it sets a massive precedent. It means they’ll have to start testing chalk in labs. They’ll need to define exactly what "residue levels" are acceptable.
It sounds tedious, but it's necessary. Look at other sports. In baseball, they banned "sticky stuff" because pitchers were getting too much spin. In swimming, they banned high-tech suits because records were falling too easily. Snooker is at that crossroads. If the equipment is making the game less about skill and more about who has the stickiest chemicals on their cue, the "theatre of the mind" is lost.
The O'Sullivan Factor
Ronnie O’Sullivan usually ignores these kinds of complaints. He plays with what he likes. If it’s legal, he’ll use it. That’s his right. But Ronnie also hates kicks. He’s complained about table conditions more than almost any other player in history. There’s a delicious irony in the fact that the chalk he’s using to improve his own game might be causing the very conditions he usually rails against.
If the WST bans the chalk, Ronnie will likely just find something else and still win. But for the rest of the tour, this is about survival. If you're a lower-ranked player and you lose a frame—and a paycheck—because of a kick caused by your opponent's "illegal" residue, you’re going to be furious.
Fixing the Problem Without a Ban
There are alternatives to a total ban, though they’re less likely to satisfy Robertson.
- Mandatory Ball Cleaning: Referees could be instructed to clean the cue ball after every frame, or even more frequently, using a specific degreasing agent.
- Standardized Chalk: The WST could provide a "house chalk" that all players must use. This happens in some amateur leagues, but pros are very picky about their gear.
- New Ball Materials: Manufacturers like Saluc (who make Aramith balls) could develop a coating that resists chalk adhesion.
None of these are as simple as just telling players they can't use the waxy stuff. Robertson knows this. That's why he's going for the throat and calling for a ban. He wants the conversation to be loud enough that the manufacturers are forced to change their formulas to be "cleaner."
What You Should Watch For
Next time you’re watching a major tournament, watch the referee. If you see them using the white gloved hand to rub the cue ball more than once or twice a frame, you’re seeing the Robertson/O’Sullivan chalk war in real-time. Look at the cloth. If there are distinct, stubborn marks that don't brush away, that's the residue in question.
Don't expect this to go away quietly. Robertson is a stubborn guy, and he’s got a lot of support in the locker room from players who are tired of the "kick" lottery. Whether the WST has the backbone to tell the world's most popular player he has to change his chalk is another story entirely.
If you play snooker yourself, take a lesson from this. Most club players use the cheapest chalk available and never clean their balls. If you're wondering why you're missing "easy" shots, it might not just be your aim. It might be that your equipment is working against you. Check your tip. Clean your balls. And maybe stay away from the stuff that leaves a greasy film if you want to keep your friends at the local hall.
The next step for the WST is to conduct a formal friction test during a live tournament. Until that data is public, it's Robertson's word against the manufacturers. But in a sport where the difference between a championship and a first-round exit is the width of a hair, Robertson’s "whining" might actually be the most important technical critique of the decade.
