Ronnie O’Sullivan Has Kept People Guessing—But Stephen Hendry Has the Answer to the Masters Question.

Ronnie O’Sullivan Has Kept People Guessing—But Stephen Hendry Has the Answer to the Masters Question.

 

In the world of snooker, no figure commands more intrigue, admiration, and unpredictability than Ronnie O’Sullivan. At 49, the Rocket continues to bend the sport to his will, but just as often he bends narratives, expectations, and even his own intentions. His relationship with major tournaments—especially the Masters—has long felt like a tug of war between passion, pressure, and pure instinct. This year has been no different.

O’Sullivan has spent months offering cryptic hints about whether he would fully commit to the Masters, the sport’s most prestigious invitational and an event with which he has a complicated love story. Some days he sounds enthusiastic, ready for the buzz of Alexandra Palace and its atmospheric intensity. Other days, he talks like a man wearied by demands, crowds, media duties, and the weight of being the sport’s biggest draw.

Fans have been left in a familiar state: captivated but confused. Analysts, pundits, and former pros have all tried to decode the Rocket’s mindset, but as ever, Ronnie remains a puzzle wrapped in genius, wrapped in contradiction.

Enter Stephen Hendry—the only man whose snooker résumé can truly stand alongside O’Sullivan’s. Hendry, never one for melodrama, has always approached the sport with a directness that contrasts sharply with Ronnie’s mercurial nature. And according to Hendry, the answer to the Masters question isn’t actually all that complicated.

During a recent discussion, Hendry suggested that O’Sullivan’s uncertainty is not a performance, nor a sign of declining appetite, but simply a reflection of how unique his competitive psychology is. Unlike most players, Ronnie doesn’t operate on a fixed emotional or motivational schedule. Hendry pointed out that the Masters, thanks to its single-table set-up, intense crowd proximity, and pointedly elite field, demands a mind perfectly attuned to the moment.

And that, Hendry argues, is exactly why O’Sullivan keeps people guessing: he genuinely doesn’t know how he will feel until the event draws near. Ronnie, in Hendry’s view, is not being evasive—he’s being honest.

Hendry went further, suggesting that the Masters represents something surprisingly important to O’Sullivan. It may not carry the ranking weight of other tournaments, but emotionally and historically, it feeds a part of his competitive soul. The Alexandra Palace crowd amplifies both his brilliance and his vulnerability; it is an arena where he becomes fully himself, whether dazzling or fragile. Hendry believes that, deep down, Ronnie knows he belongs there—and that he will show up.

For fans, Hendry’s insight feels like a rare moment of clarity amid O’Sullivan’s swirling commentary. While Ronnie speaks in riddles, Hendry strips everything back to fundamentals: a great player who still loves the big stage will not walk away from it.

So as anticipation builds, the Masters question may already be answered. Ronnie O’Sullivan may keep the world guessing—but Stephen Hendry, with trademark simplicity, has made the picture clear. The Rocket thrives where the spotlight burns brightest, and the Masters remains the one stage that can still draw him in, no matter how unpredictable the journey to get there may seem.