Just watch Jimmy Robertson’s match winning century break and try not to smile. See his eyes begin to glisten as each ball sinks into the pocket. See him swallow hard in a bid to keep at bay the welling emotion as the finish line comes into view, as colour follows red, and red follows colour. This was sixteen years of toil and graft finally budding and bearing fruit. Rarely has a player’s maiden ranking victory been so thoroughly warming.

And what a display of competence it was in the final of the European Masters. Against a resolute and determined opponent in Joe Perry, Robertson negotiated his first ranking final as if it was his thirtieth. When Perry failed to find his touch in the opening session, the 32 year-old capitalised with the kind of ruthlessness which belied his inexperience on the big stage. The initiative to race into a 5–0 lead. The resolve to withstand two mini Perry comebacks to 5–3 and 7–6 respectively. The flair to fire in a 108 break in the single-most important frame of his life thus far to clinch the title, as if it were a practice session down the club. These are the marks of a champion, and Robertson’s performance was one evocative of the great winning displays of a Selby or a Higgins.

Perhaps there is a touch of irony to Robertson’s triumph unfolding at an event labelled the European ‘Masters,’ in Lommel, Belgium. Talented and hard-working though Robertson is, a snooker ‘master’ he is not. The Bexhill-born potter has until now been far removed from the game’s elite talent — a perpetual onlooker and also-ran, the servant boy standing by in envy as his superiors feast on the spoils of snooker’s increasing riches with merriment.

But as the more fancied names dropped by the wayside in Lommel, Robertson seemed to sniff a rare chance. This is a player who previously had never reached the one-table setup at a major ranking event — with one quarter-final appearance in Berlin last year the slim picking of a sixteen year professional career. And yet when the opportunity arose, Robertson soared to take it. His early round victories were a showcase of one of sport’s great intangibles — bottle, winning three consecutive matches on the final black. The confidence garnered from such a feat can’t be underestimated, and those gruelling encounters paved the way for the cool and professional dispatching of the two Marks, Allen and King, to reach the final.

Of course, as the professional tour has blossomed and burgeoned with Barry Hearn at the helm, many of snooker’s supporting cast have come to the fore. But while plenty have come close, few have been able to clear the final hurdle. Chinese prospect Yan Bingtao lost agonisingly in a deciding frame as Mark Williams won the Northern Ireland Open last season, as did compatriot Cao Yupeng, who blew an 8–4 lead over Neil Robertson to lose the Scottish Open final 9–8. In August, David Gilbert could taste the first droplets of his inaugural ranking triumph, 9–5 to the good before succumbing to the irrepressible world champion Williams to lose 10–9. There is a clear mental obstacle to sealing the deal for these would-be ranking winners, but Jimmy Robertson handled this test with unprecedented aplomb.

It would be easy to belittle his achievement. As tournaments go, the European Masters is low down in most people’s estimations, an event scorned by many as unnecessary or poorly timed given the scheduling of the China Championship the week before. The likes of Ronnie O’Sullivan, Williams, and Ding Junhui declined to participate. Higgins pulled out on the eve of the tournament due to his prior exploits in China. Selby, Trump, and Hawkins all looked fatigued or disinterested, their motivation worn down at the end of a busy period in the calendar.

But the absence of the elite creates a different kind of pressure for the other challengers — snooker’s ‘b-list,’ for want of a better term. King and Perry, both vanquished by Robertson, could be considered as such, those desperate to reach the top 16, hallowed turf for the cluster of pretenders hoping to make a dent in the sport’s top tier. Indeed, victory for Perry would have seen him return to the top 16, and perhaps this played on the mind of a player usually renowned for his composure and assuredness.

Robertson’s victory takes him to a career-high ranking of 26th. Who’s to say if this landmark triumph will lead to bigger and better things, or if this will prove to be the lone gold star on his snooker CV. Many will not have been able to put a face to the name of Jimmy Robertson before this event, him being one of countless players seemingly anchored in the limbo that is the mid-level reaches of the ranking table. They will know him now. Robertson will go down as a ranking event winner, a title which eluded many better players in the past and will elude many better players in the future. For players like Jimmy, nights like Sunday don’t come around very often, if at all. That alone makes it worth celebrating.