Malta Holds Its Breath as Alex Borg Edges Adrian Delia in Epic Cue-Sport Showdown

Live: Alex Borg and Adrian Delia in nail-biting race
By Hot Malta Newsroom | 21:47 CEST

Floriana’s Independence Arena is crackling with the kind of electricity normally reserved for festa fireworks or a last-minute Eurovision vote. Tonight, however, the 2,500 seats are packed for a different kind of showdown: veteran pocket-billiards maestro Alex “The Sliema Shark” Borg is trading cue-ball wizardry with political firebrand-turned-snooker-enthusiast Adrian Delia in a best-of-nine frame that has all of Malta holding its breath.

Social media exploded this afternoon when NET TV teased drone footage of Delia arriving in a campaign-style entourage—complete with Żebbuġ band club supporters waving yellow-and-blue flags—while Borg stepped out of a vintage red Mini Cooper, the same model he bought with his first national championship cheque in 1998. By 20:00, hashtags #BorgVsDelia and #KlikkaMalta were trending above even tonight’s Champions League semi-final.

Local context runs deeper than coloured baize. In a country where village band marches compete with Premier League kick-offs for prime-time attention, cue sports have quietly stitched communities together since British servicemen chalked up tables in 1950s NAAFI clubs. Borg, 45, is a three-time World Amateur champion whose trophy cabinet sits inside the Senglea Knights social club, just metres from the marina where his fisherman father still moors the luzzu named *Tal-Bahar*. Delia, 55, discovered snooker during his law-student days at the University of Malta, famously skipping lectures to practice at Qawra’s Rocky’s Bar—now a pilgrimage site for PN activists who jokingly call the corner pocket *Il-Bahar tal-Aħħar* (“The Last Resort”).

The stakes transcend bragging rights. A win for Borg secures a €25,000 sponsorship from a local igaming firm earmarked for junior coaching programmes across Gozo. Delia, meanwhile, has pledged any personal proceeds to Dar tal-Providenza, doubling down on the charity tie-in that already sees tonight’s €10 door fee split equally between the home and the Malta Billiards & Snooker Association’s grassroots scheme. In the stands, nuns from the Sliema Dominican convent share popcorn with teenagers sporting *Żibel* environmental hoodies; the scene feels quintessentially Maltese—faith, activism, and sport swirling under one roof.

Frame by frame, the drama intensifies. Borg opens with a silky 78 break, cueing to the rhythmic clapping usually reserved for *għana* folk duels. Delia responds with a safety battle reminiscent of parliamentary filibusters, forcing errors and clawing back to level terms 2-2 by the interval. During the 15-minute break, vendors weave through the aisles selling *mqaret* and Ħamrun ħobż biż-żejt, the scent of aniseed and tuna mingling with chalk dust.

Back at the table, frame five becomes an epic 38-minute tug-of-war. When Delia pots a nerve-shredding blue to steal it 3-2, a roar erupts that drowns out the festa petards popping outside for St Monica’s eve. Borg answers in frame six with a fluked double-kiss pink that even veteran referee Joe “Il-Kbir” Micallef calls the “most Maltese shot I’ve seen since the 1987 coalition”—a reference every local instantly understands.

By 22:00 the score is locked 4-4. Children who sneaked in on school-night permissions are now wide-eyed, witnessing something bigger than football derbies: two Maltese icons rewriting their legacies in real time. The final frame begins with a tactical exchange worthy of Grand Harbour chess masters. At 52 points apiece, Delia over-cuts a tricky green, leaving Borg a table-length plant. The arena falls silent. Borg steadies, strokes, and the green drops. After a tight sequence on the colours, the black ball rests near the spot with Borg leading by six. Delia attempts a thin cut—misses. Borg steps in, sinks the black, and the hall erupts as if the Knights had just lifted the Euro Cup.

Cue tears, embraces, and spontaneous renditions of *Għanja tal-Poplu*. Borg lifts both cue and adopted son—six-year-old Gozitan prodigy Jake—toward the rafters. Delia, gracious in defeat, raises Borg’s arm, whispering “Għażiż ħabib, Malta wins tonight.” And indeed, as fans spill onto the Floriana granaries, fireworks from three rival village festas light up the sky in unplanned synchrony, a glittering reminder that when Maltese hearts beat as one, even the island’s notorious partisan lines can dissolve like chalk on blue baize.

Conclusion: Regardless of scoreboards, tonight’s showdown has already chalked a new chapter in Malta’s communal story—where sport, charity, and culture intersect under a shared roof, proving that sometimes the smallest islands create the biggest echoes.