Why Billiards Is Not an Olympic Sport: The Surprising Reasons Explained

I remember the first time I watched professional billiards on television—the tension was palpable as players lined up their shots with surgical precision. Yet when I recently checked the Olympic program for Paris 2024, I found myself wondering why this beautiful game hasn't made the cut. You'd think with over 100 million active players worldwide and professional tournaments offering prize money exceeding $300,000, billiards would be a shoo-in for the Games. But the reality is more complicated than the numbers suggest.

Let me share something that might surprise you—I used to play competitive pool in college, and the mental strain was unlike anything I'd experienced in sports. This brings me to something Philippine basketball player Mocon once said that really resonates: "There's always a chip on my shoulder... I just have to prove, not to anybody, but to myself that I have value and I can still play at a high level." That statement captures the essence of what makes elite athletes tick, regardless of their sport. But here's the catch—while billiards demands incredible skill and mental fortitude, the International Olympic Committee looks at sports through a different lens entirely.

The Olympic movement has specific criteria that sports must meet, and billiards struggles with several of them. For starters, the IOC wants sports with universal appeal across different continents and cultures. While billiards is popular in Asia, Europe, and North America, its presence in Africa and South America remains relatively limited. I've noticed that when I travel—you'll find pool halls in Manila as easily as in Michigan, but try finding one in rural Kenya or Peru. The geographic distribution just isn't there yet.

Then there's the issue of youth appeal. The IOC is desperate to attract younger viewers—hence sports like skateboarding and surfing making their Olympic debut. Billiards, despite its cool factor in movies like The Hustler, often gets stereotyped as an older person's game. I'll admit, when I walk into my local pool hall, I usually see more gray hairs than teenagers. The sport needs what marketers call "the cool factor" to capture the next generation's imagination.

Another huge hurdle is what insiders call "universality of practice"—essentially, how accessible the sport is across economic backgrounds. Think about it: swimming requires a body of water, gymnastics needs specialized equipment, but billiards? A decent table can cost upwards of $5,000, not to mention the space required. That creates significant barriers for developing nations. I recall trying to find quality practice facilities while traveling through Southeast Asia—the disparity between what's available in wealthy versus poorer areas was striking.

The governance structure of international billiards doesn't help either. Unlike swimming or athletics with single global federations, billiards has multiple governing bodies often stepping on each other's toes. The World Pool-Billiard Association, the International Billiards & Snooker Federation, and various other organizations have been trying to sort this out for decades. From my conversations with people in the industry, this fragmentation makes Olympic officials nervous—they prefer dealing with one clear authority per sport.

Television presentation poses another challenge. While die-hard fans like me can appreciate the strategic depth of a safety battle or the geometry of a three-rail kick shot, the average viewer might find it slower than watching paint dry. I've tried introducing friends to professional billiards, and their most common complaint is the pace. Compare that to the instant gratification of a 100-meter sprint or the constant action of basketball. The IOC knows that television ratings drive revenue, and they're hesitant to include sports that might cause viewers to change channels.

There's also the matter of existing similar sports. The Olympic program already includes precision sports like archery and shooting. From the IOC's perspective, adding another precision sport might feel redundant. Though any billiards player will tell you the combination of mental strategy, physical precision, and psychological warfare in our sport is unique, that distinction gets lost in committee meetings.

But here's what frustrates me most—the sheer athleticism required gets overlooked. I've seen players like Efren Reyes make shots that defy physics, yet because they're not running or jumping, people question whether it's really a sport. Having played both basketball and billiards competitively, I can tell you the concentration required for that perfect shot is as demanding as any physical feat. Your heart races, your palms sweat—it's every bit as intense as taking a game-winning free throw.

The road to Olympic inclusion isn't impossible though. Sports like karate and sport climbing have recently joined the program by addressing these very concerns. If billiards can unite its governing bodies, boost youth participation, and create more television-friendly formats, we might yet see it in future Games. Some organizations are already experimenting with shot clocks and different camera angles to make the sport more viewer-friendly.

At the end of the day, I keep coming back to what Mocon said about proving your value. That's exactly what billiards needs to do—prove its value to the Olympic movement. Not just as a game of skill, but as a sport that can bring new audiences, tell compelling stories, and showcase human excellence in its purest form. Until then, we'll continue to enjoy it in pool halls and professional tournaments, dreaming of that Olympic moment that may one day come.