From Duong to Gorst: The Asian Heartbeat and the Call of the Manila Table

In a dark corner of the Manila arena at around seven in the evening in October, there is a moment that television cameras never choose. It is the moment Duong places his cue down, sits on the bench, and stares at the cue ball rolling slowly across the cushion. No spectator shouts. No commentator raises his voice. Only the ceiling fans and the breathing of three hundred people in the stands.

That moment, if you rewind the footage, lasts less than seven seconds. But those seven seconds are the entire Reyes Cup — a tournament built not on perfect shots, but on the silences before those shots take place.

I write these lines from Nha Trang, where the sound of waves hitting the rocky shore is exactly two hundred meters from my study. I have spent forty years looking at silences like that. Not because they are beautiful. Because they are honest.

The match truly begins from the moment the ball touches no one's foot. I have written this sentence many times, but never has it been truer than at the Reyes Cup. Because this is a tournament where between two frames, between two sessions, between two days — those empty spaces are where victory is built. Not in the break shot. Not in the cushion draw. But in the silence of a team that is waiting.

Let me tell you about the people who are about to walk into Manila. Not as names on a ranking board, but as characters in a story I have followed for many years.

Context: Three years, two championships, and a storm approaching

The Reyes Cup is a team event organized along the Mosconi Cup model. Team Asia faces off against Team Rest of the World — ROW for short. This year's edition takes place in Manila, Philippines, in October. This is the third edition, and both previous times, Team Asia won.

The roster structure consists of automatic spots based on the US Open Championship points standings, plus three wildcard selections decided by the captains. Team Asia's captain is Bustamante — a Philippine billiards legend. Team ROW's captain is Souquet — a German former world champion.

Two captain philosophies are clashing. Bustamante speaks of keeping the trophy in Asia, a defensive statement favouring cohesion and continuity. Souquet speaks of building an Avengers squad, an offensive statement favouring star power and redemption.

For the Vietnamese, this match holds special meaning, because Duong is caught between two worlds. He is the GOAT of Vietnamese billiards. He is the 2026 Premier League Pool champion — the first player to win a major WNT title of the year. He played a pivotal role in all of Asia's two Reyes Cup victories. And according to pundit predictions, he might play for Team ROW.

That is a paradox I will return to. First, let us walk through each name.

Joshua Filler: The number three and the art of endurance

In his mid-twenties, Joshua Filler is already a legend. Three Mosconi Cup MVP awards — 2026, 2026, 2026 — are a certificate of pressure resilience.

I learned to read matches through numbers, but only when they know how to dance. And Filler's number three dances in the strangest way. It does not move to the rhythm of the scoreboard. It moves to the rhythm of the moments when his team is on the brink of defeat.

In a team race-format match, each frame is a stone dropped into a lake. Its ripples reach the next frame, the teammate on the bench, the cueist waiting for his turn. Filler understands this better than anyone. In 2026, he won the UK Open, reached the European Open semi-final, and made the US Open quarter-final. Those numbers are as steady as the beat of a healthy heart.

But there is something every statistic board misses: the ability to convert pressure into energy. When Filler bends over his cue in a decisive frame, his face does not change. That is what algorithms cannot measure. That is why he is the highest-value wildcard Souquet could pick.

Fedor Gorst: The Ghost and beautiful uncertainty

If Filler is stability, Fedor Gorst is volatility. His nickname is The Ghost. Throughout his career, Gorst has appeared and vanished in ways that leave opponents and fans never knowing what to expect.

At the most recent US Open, Gorst defeated Shane van Boening — a former world champion and an American billiards monument. But at the same tournament, he lost to Robbie Capito — a cueist making his Reyes Cup debut.

This is no small detail. In a game where psychology decides roughly sixty percent of the outcome, the ability to beat a legend and lose to a rookie in the same week is a sign of an untuned nervous system. For Souquet, Gorst is a card with a very high win rate but equally high variance.

I have seen cueists like Gorst many times in forty years. They are the ones who can produce shots you will remember for life, but who can also miss a simple shot a ten-year-old could pot. The problem is not Gorst's talent. The problem is whether the Ghost will appear at the right time in a team match in Manila.

Jayson Shaw: The shout and the fragile balance

Jayson Shaw is the loudest name on the predicted list. His nickname is Eagle Eye. He has won the Mosconi Cup eight times. He is a spiritual leader in the team corner, a man who can turn a silent arena into a cathedral.

But Shaw's loudness is a double-edged sword. In Manila, where thousands of Filipino and Indonesian fans will cheer for Team Asia, Shaw's vocal-leader persona could turn him into a target. He could be the one who injects energy into his team, or the one thrown into the middle of a vortex of hostility.

Eight Mosconi Cup wins is a number I admire. It is proof of the ability to survive high-pressure team matches. But the Mosconi Cup is played in Las Vegas or Europe, where the crowd is split between two sides. Manila will be different. Manila will be a theater of a single side — and Shaw, with his nature, will be the hero or the villain in it.

Francisco Sanchez Ruiz: Spain's anchor and cold perfection

Sanchez Ruiz is Spanish — a country without a long billiards tradition like England or the Philippines. But he is the 2026 US Open champion and a former world champion. In a predicted roster of five former US Open winners, Sanchez Ruiz is the quietest but also the hardest to beat.

I have watched him play many times on recordings. Sanchez Ruiz has a style I call cold perfection. He does not try to impress. He does not smash the break to make the crowd clap. He does only the one thing a cueist must do: put the cue ball exactly where the frame needs it to be.

In a team, the anchor is the person teammates look at when everything is shaky. Sanchez Ruiz does not say much. But he is the one I would trust if I were Souquet.

Shane van Boening: A monument standing before sunset

Shane van Boening is a monument of American pool. He has won the US Open, won the world championship, and for more than two decades has been the face of American billiards. He is the only American cueist among ROW's automatic qualifiers.

But that also means van Boening is alone. At forty, he is no longer at the peak of the form he had ten years ago. He can still beat anyone on a good day — but he is no longer the default winner at any tournament.

At the recent US Open, van Boening was eliminated by Gorst. That is a sign of generational transition. In Manila, van Boening will no longer be the most cheered player. He will play in the relative silence of a monument yielding the stage to the next generation. There is a sad beauty in that — and I hope he plays a match for the ages, if only to prove that monuments do not fall easily.

Robbie Capito: The Hong Kong player and an explosive season

Robbie Capito is the figure I know least on this list. He comes from Hong Kong, a territory with a strong billiards tradition that has never produced a world-class cueist like Capito.

In 2026, Capito exploded. He reached the US Open final and took home $50,000 as runner-up. That is a leap. But it is also a single result. In billiards, one good season does not mean a good career. Capito needs two or three more seasons at this level to prove he is not a one-hit wonder.

At the Reyes Cup, Capito will be a newcomer. No one knows how he will react to the pressure of a team match. But if he gets through — if he holds on to the confidence that carried him to the US Open final — Capito could be Team Asia's hidden card.

Carlo Biado: Reigning world champion and the Filipino heart

Carlo Biado is the reigning world champion of 9-ball pool. He is Filipino. He will play at home in Manila, in front of thousands of Filipino fans. That is an advantage no number can measure.

Biado is a mature cueist. He does not smash the break to show strength. He puts the balls in the right place, takes the right shot, and maintains the match's rhythm through patience. He has played team events many times. He knows how to win matches where every frame is precious as gold.

In Manila, I believe Biado will be the soul of Team Asia. Not because he is the best cueist in the team. Because he is the one the crowd loves most.

Aloysius Yapp: World No. 1 and a year full of doubt

Aloysius Yapp comes from Singapore. He is the world No. 1 on the World Nineball Tour rankings. He was the inaugural Reyes Cup MVP.

But this year, things have not gone smoothly for Yapp. He is going through what I call a year full of doubt. His ranking remains at the top, but that is the result of many past strong seasons, not of current form.

In sport, there is a gap between ranking and form. Ranking is the past. Form is the present. A cueist can be world No. 1 while playing at the level of world No. 30. Yapp is in that situation — or at least, that is what the data suggests.

At the Reyes Cup, Yapp will carry on his shoulders the full weight of a world No. 1 who needs to prove he still deserves the position. I hope he succeeds. But the psychology of a cueist doubting himself is a double-edged sword.

Albert Januarta: Eighteen years old and the Indonesian dream

Albert Januarta is the most fascinating figure on this list. Eighteen years old. Indonesian. Currently near the top of the WNT rankings. He has a playing style I would describe as silky and mature — a maturity that is strange for someone his age.

Indonesia is a massive billiards market. Putting an Indonesian cueist on Team Reyes Cup is a decision meaningful both athletically and commercially. But Januarta is not just a marketing card. He genuinely has talent. He has ranking titles and deep runs in major events.

The unknown is how Januarta will perform in a team match. This will be his first time facing the pressure of a national-team event at this level. There is precedent for young cueists succeeding as wildcards — AJ Manas at the previous Reyes Cup being one example. But there are also counterexamples: talented cueists crushed by the pressure of a match they have never experienced.

Januarta is a gamble. But sometimes, gambling is the best way to build the future.

Duong: The Vietnamese and the unanswered question

And finally, we return to Duong — Vietnamese, the symbol of Vietnamese billiards, and according to pundit predictions, possibly playing for Team ROW.

This is a paradox. Vietnam is an Asian nation. Duong played a pivotal role in Team Asia's two Reyes Cup victories. He is part of Asia's history at this tournament. So why is he predicted to play for ROW?

There are two possible explanations. One is roster balance. Team Asia already has many automatic Asian spots — Biado, Capito, and possibly Yapp and Januarta. If Duong also joins Team Asia, the roster is too crowded. Sending him to ROW is a way to keep both teams competitively balanced.

Two is Team Captain Souquet's tactical decision. If Souquet can pick Duong, he will — because Duong is a cueist at the peak of his form with the 2026 Premier League Pool title and Manila-match experience.

But whatever the reason, Duong playing for ROW will create a rare psychological tension. He will face old teammates, the ones he won two championships with. He will play in front of a home crowd that adores him, in the role of an opponent. That is an odd position not many cueists have ever experienced.

A contrarian angle: Home advantage may be a myth

And here is where I offer my contrarian view.

Everyone says Team Asia has home advantage. Manila is Biado's home court. The crowd will cheer for Team Asia. Manila's cloth, table, and humidity conditions may suit Asian cueists already used to them. That advantage, they say, is nearly impossible to overcome.

But I am not sure that is right.

There are victories that do not lie on the scoreboard, but in the heartbeat of the stands. And I have seen home crowds turn pressure into a burden rather than fuel. When you play at home, every shot is watched by thousands who know your name. Every miss is not just for yourself — it is for family, friends, neighbors, a whole country.

At the Mosconi Cup, the USA has lost many times on home soil in Las Vegas. Team Europe has won in the USA, won in Europe, won anywhere. Home advantage does not guarantee victory. It only changes the nature of the pressure.

And there is another factor few mention. Team ROW is expected to include cueists with deep Asian-tour experience — Sanchez Ruiz, Filler, Shaw have all played in Asian events. Gorst has played in China. Van Boening has been to the Philippines many times. They are not first-timers facing Manila cloth.

Home advantage is real. But it is not an invincible myth. And if Team ROW leverages its careful preparation, it can turn the home crowd's pressure into a weapon against Team Asia itself.

Too much emotion, too little data. That was what an editor once told me about a piece of mine years ago. At the Reyes Cup, I think emotion and data will coexist — and whichever is balanced better will win.

Roster structure and team depth

Look at the predicted roster structure. Team ROW has five former US Open champions: Sanchez Ruiz, van Boening, Filler, Gorst, and Shaw. That is a historic number. No team in the history of team billiards has had this many US Open champions.

Team Asia has one world champion (Biado), one world No. 1 (Yapp), one US Open runner-up (Capito), one Premier League Pool champion (Duong), and one eighteen-year-old talent (Januarta).

On paper, ROW is the stronger team. Five US Open champions against one world champion (Biado) and four rising cueists. That is a title gap that cannot be denied.

But team billiards is not played on paper. It is played on the table.

And on the table, there are factors that do not appear in statistical tables. Cohesion. Mutual understanding. The ability to lift each other in the toughest moments. Those are the things Team Asia has proven over two championships. Those are the things Team ROW needs to build.

A question about generational transition

There is a bigger story playing out behind the Reyes Cup. That is the story of generational transition in world billiards.

For decades, world billiards was dominated by Europe and the USA. Cueists from England, Germany, the USA ruled the major tournaments. But in recent years, Asia's rise has become a phenomenon impossible to ignore.

Asia has Efrén Reyes, the Filipino widely considered the greatest cueist of all time. Asia has Chinese and Taiwanese cueists. Asia has Biado, Yapp, Capito, Duong, and now Januarta. Team Asia has won the Reyes Cup twice in a row. That is not coincidence.

It is the result of a rising talent development system. In the Philippines, billiards is a street sport, where kids play in cafes and learn to pot balls before they learn to write. In Vietnam, pool halls are sprouting up in major cities. In Indonesia, billiards is becoming a sport with sponsorships and television coverage.

This means the Reyes Cup is not just a tournament. It is an indicator of the shifting power map in world billiards.

The 2026 season and early signals

The 2026 season has just begun. Duong won the Premier League Pool — the year's first major WNT title. That is a signal that he is at the peak of his form.

But the season is still long. Other major tournaments have not taken place yet. The 2026 US Open will be an important test for all the cueists on the predicted list. Filler will try to recreate his 2026 form. Gorst will try to prove that his recent US Open was no accident. Capito will try to prove he is not just a one-season wonder. Januarta will try to prove eighteen is not too early to play at the highest level.

Every match this season is a piece of the story that will lead to Manila in October.

Questions without answers

There are questions this analysis cannot answer. What are the Reyes Cup's nationality rules? Can Duong play for ROW if he is Vietnamese? Or is this a mistake in the prediction? The organizers have not given a clear answer.

What is the specific match format? We know it is race format, but we do not know how many frames the race goes to. A race to five has much higher variance than a race to nine. Without that information, we cannot precisely assess each team's upset chances.

What is the prize money? There is no information on the purse. This leaves us unable to assess the cueists' competitive motivation beyond the honorary trophy.

Can Team ROW truly play as a team? That is the biggest question. A roster of five US Open champions can be a winning machine or a collection of outstanding individuals who cannot coordinate. Filler and Gorst are top-tier cueists. But neither has played together in a team match. Shaw has Mosconi Cup experience. Sanchez Ruiz has the coolness. Van Boening has the experience of facing international media pressure.

But all those qualities need to be combined into something greater than their sum. And that is Souquet's job.

Takeaway: A question left open

When I rewatch the footage of Duong sitting on the bench in Manila, watching the cue ball roll slowly across the cushion, I wonder: will people remember him for the titles he won, or for the silences he lived through between those titles?

The Reyes Cup will not answer that. No tournament can answer that. But in three days in Manila, in the silences between frames, I believe we will see something more beautiful than victory. We will see people, standing between two shores of the world, playing the oldest game anyone can understand — playing to prove they belong somewhere.

And when the last applause fades, when the arena lights turn off, when the cueists leave the table and return home, what remains will not be the numbers. What remains will be the silences we lived through together.

Every shot is a whisper, and the season is a long conversation. The Reyes Cup, with all it carries, is one chapter in that conversation — a chapter both Asia and the rest of the world await, not only to see who wins, but to see how they will tell their story.