Yasin Merchant, One of India’s best-known snooker stars, called time on his career after 30 years. he recounts the gamut of emotions that triggered his decision to retire.

I was up against former world champion Steve Mifsud, in what turned out to be the last match of my career. Steve is a guy who plays very aggressively, quite similar to how I play myself. Walking into the match, I knew I was in for a fight and had readied myself for it.
I matched him shot for shot and hit back at regular intervals. Earlier trailing 2-4, I drew closer till I finally levelled the game. Then came the decider. He pulled a rabbit out of his bag, and before I was even allowed to make a mistake, it was frame and match to him.
I managed to keep a straight face as I walked out of the venue, but when I reached my room, I finally broke down. I felt empty. Was it really all over? Would I not play another world championship ever? I needed to talk to somebody close, and I called my wife and subjected her to a 15-minute monologue where all she could respond was, “Don’t worry, it will be alright.”
I played that entire tournament just like every other one — no drama, no emotions, just snooker. Although in the opening ceremony my retirement was announced, I still felt as if it was all about somebody else, and it didn’t hit me till my last match. Only then did the feeling of despondency, the heartbreak come, labelling the expiry date on my career.
I have always believed that not recognising performance or achievements leads to de-motivation. I’ve given 30 years of my life to this game, and have managed to earn laurels for India from 1989. If all of this go unrecognised, what should one play for at all?
There isn’t much money in our sport, and yes, people play for the love of the game, but for how long? At the end of every race, there is a prize awaiting you, isn’t there? Not for me.
From the time my name was announced in the papers as a recipient of the Padma Shri Award way back in 2001, and then unceremoniously pulled out at the last minute to accommodate a more politically advantageous sportsperson, my emotions have run their entire gamut — shock, frustration, helplessness, dismay, victimisation, and finally, indifference.
The decision to retire was tougher than I expected, as I’d always thought I would play till the game would throw me out. Retirement was never on my mind, but being selective about tournaments was what I had begun focusing on. I was not as regular a player on the circuit as I used to be for the last three years, maybe because my commitment levels had dropped.
I still love the game, but cannot devote time to practice. And I’ve always maintained that if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. If I wasn’t at the top of my game, I needed to move on, family commitments, business pressures, an urge to move on and do something else, related to the game but creative, whatever it was. A tough call, but the right one.
Right now, I am still coming to terms with the fact that I shall not be playing any more international events, and not even the nationals, or the state ranking tournament. Once the decision finally sinks in, I shall take stock of my life.
My primary focus will now be working on my children’s careers. I shall be doing whatever possible to see that they realise their dreams. I had to travel a lot for the game, and missed out on spending time with my wife. I intend to make up for that and finally give her my undivided attention.
By the grace of God, we have a business that is doing fairly well for the last 53 years now, and that requires a lot of my time. I shall be working on an academy with some friends and we hope to develop a world-class institute. That is the need of the hour, as we have immense talent in the country that needs mentoring and counselling. I aim to provide a direction to this unbridled talent, if given the opportunity. Lastly, and most importantly, I need to look after my ailing father, the man who made me who I am today.
About a zillion people have told me that my decision to retire was premature and that I still have a few years left in me. But although I know my skill has not diminished, my will has.
Snooker, once on top of my priority list, now struggles to find a position at all. Not because I love the game any less, but because I believe my playing days are over and I need to now concentrate on creating champions. I regret quitting only in terms of the ability still left in me, but thinking about the various things that I can do now for the game, for my family and for myself encourages me to look forward without remorse.

As told to Manuja Veerappa