Reyes Cup 2026: From Duong to Gorst, Mapping the Two Sides of the Pacific

Manila, October. Humidity measured at 78%, room temperature holding at 23 to 24 degrees Celsius, cloth running roughly 0.3 seconds faster than the European standard per roll. These numbers never appear on the scoreboard, but they live inside every break at the Reyes Cup.

I once stayed behind after a session on this archipelago, logging every break, every safety, every between-frame pause, every frown when a cueist lost rhythm. Three days of continuous notes gave me a conclusion I could not find in any tactics book: the team that wins in Manila is not the team with the prettiest record on paper, but the team that reads the table about half a rack faster than its opponent.

The 2026 Reyes Cup is about to begin. This is the third edition of the Asia versus Rest of World format, following the Mosconi Cup template — the classic team event between Europe and the USA that has more than three decades of history. Asia won the first two editions. Both times, I predicted Asia. Both times, I was right — but right for reasons entirely different from what I had written. Data never lies, but I have misheard it before.

This year, the story is far more complicated. ROW brings to Manila a lineup the press calls the Avengers — five former US Open champions on a single roster, plus cueists with a shelf full of world titles. Asia answers with cohesion, home advantage, and an 18-year-old Indonesian climbing to world No. 1. The question is no longer who is stronger in the rankings. It is who reads this table better, and who can endure a format where every frame can drag the whole team.

Before we get to names, we need the frame the event operates within. The Reyes Cup falls under the World Nineball Tour, sanctioned by the WPA. The format is team-based, splitting the world into Asia and the rest, unlike the Mosconi Cup's split across the Atlantic. This is American 9-ball, with international-standard tables and balls, fast cloth, and tighter pockets than Asian 8-ball events.

The 2026 roster structure consists of automatic berths from the WNT points standings — determined through events such as the US Open Championship in Frisco, Texas, and the Florida Open — plus three wildcards per team at the captain's discretion. Team Asia's captain is Philippine legend Francisco Bustamante. ROW's captain is former world No. 1 Ralf Souquet of Germany. How they use their three wildcards reveals each philosophy: Bustamante keeps the cohesive, disciplined frame that gave Asia its two prior wins; Souquet builds a roster maximized for star power, following what he himself calls the Avengers model.

The key structural point: this is a race-format event. A match does not end on a lucky single frame, but on a run of frames. The law of large numbers tends to pull results toward true strength — but only when the number of frames is large enough. In a short race, one bad frame can still collapse a match. And in team format, one player's bad frame can drag the psychology of the next. That is why I never conclude from a roster list alone. Over four years of note-taking, I have seen too many times a roster stronger on paper lose for reasons not on paper.

Manila is the third variable, and perhaps the most underrated. Cloth, humidity, temperature, and even crowd noise all differ from the conditions European cueists are used to. A cueist flying from Berlin to Manila needs about two to three days for table feel to return — from the table's roll to the tip's grip. A Philippine or Vietnamese cueist loses almost nothing. Across a multi-day event, that gap can mean an entire match. I once measured it at a regional tournament: European cueists on the first day of a Southeast Asian event converted long pots about 8 to 12 percentage points below their career averages. That number does not decide the tournament, but it decides the opening frame, and the opening frame in a short race can decide the psychology of an entire session.

That is the frame. Now to names.

Robbie Capito, a Hong Kong cueist, enters the roster through Asian regional points. In 2026, he finished runner-up at the US Open Championship and collected 50,000 dollars — a breakthrough for a cueist never previously viewed as a top contender. But we must be direct: one big result does not make a streak. Capito's 2026 sample is too small to declare him a stable elite. His wildcard reflects current form more than career record — a risk in team format, where big-match experience matters as much as skill. His style — aggressive break-and-run, high risk tolerance — suits individual events where beautiful shots get rewarded. In team play, high risk can be either a gift or a trap.

Carlo Biado is the reigning world champion, a Philippine cueist with the calm of a veteran. His game is quiet: he controls the cue ball's position, chooses safety when needed, and almost never lets emotion take over. In Manila, Biado benefits most from the crowd — he has contributed to Asia's past Reyes Cup wins. On paper, he is the steadiest link in the roster. But remember one thing: a veteran's steadiness is sometimes mistaken for slowing down. A cueist past thirty is still good enough in a short race, but no longer fast enough to catch an explosive break at a decisive frame. If Asia reaches the final frame of a decisive match with Biado at the table, I would still trust him — but not as absolutely as I did in 2026.

Francisco Sanchez Ruiz is ROW's anchor. 2026 US Open champion, former world champion, complete all-round game, tactical break. What makes Sanchez Ruiz special in team format is his ability to read the match: he does not try to win every frame beautifully, but chooses a way to win that fits the team's momentum. That is a rare quality. But like every other European cueist, he needs adjustment time for the Manila table. Data from previous seasons shows the first half-day to a full day is the highest-risk window, and Sanchez Ruiz usually plays safely during it. If ROW loses the opening session, his probability of shining in later sessions drops — because he is a momentum carrier, not a momentum creator.

Shane van Boening is the only American cueist among ROW's automatic berths. 2026 Florida Open winner, former world champion, a game built on power long-range potting and high break speed. But to be honest: America's elite representation is thinning. For an entire generation, van Boening has been nearly the only American still standing at the highest level. The thinness of America's elite pipeline is a structural problem for ROW, not a problem for van Boening alone. He is still capable of winning matches, but he is no longer the man who carries the team the way he did in 2026. At his current age, every powerful break is a bet on his own body.

Here is a strange story, and the central subject of this piece. Roster predictions suggest Duong — the Vietnamese cueist called the GOAT of Vietnamese pool — will be on the ROW roster, not Asia. Geographically, Vietnam is an Asian nation. By record, Duong played a pivotal role in Asia's two Reyes Cup wins. He just won the 2026 Premier League Pool, the first WNT major of the year, with a game built on composure under pressure and lethal precision in deciders. In Manila, he is one of the few cueists the crowd calls by name in both Vietnamese and English.

But if Duong truly lands on ROW, that is a psychologically heavy variable. A man who helped Asia win twice, standing on the other side of the line, is a blade aimed at the very house whose door he once guarded. I do not have enough data to confirm the Reyes Cup's nationality rule. The original analysis does not explain it. But if the rule allows captains to pick any cueist, this is a precedent worth noting: the Asia — ROW boundary may be purely symbolic. In four years on the job, I have learned that symbolic data points usually carry real consequences that few anticipate.

Joshua Filler may be the most impactful wildcard in the entire event. He is considered the best cueist in the world right now. His 2026: UK Open champion, European Open semifinalist, US Open quarterfinalist. But the most important metric here is not those titles. It is his three Mosconi Cup MVP awards — one of the most brutal team formats in pool. Three Mosconi Cup MVPs do not measure talent; they measure the ability to step to the table at exactly the right moment in the team's most tense moment. In a team race format, that moment converts to points more than any impressive break. Filler is the kind of cueist captain Souquet can hand a decisive frame to without a second thought.

Aloysius Yapp is currently world No. 1 on the WNT rankings and was the inaugural Reyes Cup MVP. He has textbook cue-ball control, a veteran's calm, and a leadership role in Asia's roster. But this year, he is described as having a shaky season. This is the classic pattern: rankings reflect accumulated past performance, not necessarily current form. In an event where every match matters, Yapp's current psychological state deserves more weight than his rank. Team Asia's balance may be more fragile than it looks. If Yapp is not the steady anchor he is imagined to be, the burden shifts to Biado and Duong. And if Duong is truly on ROW, the burden shifts to Biado — alone.

Fedor Gorst, nicknamed The Ghost, is considered ROW's most talented remaining cueist. At the US Open, he eliminated van Boening — a former world champion — then lost to Capito. In the same tournament, beating the best and losing to a debutant. That is a cueist with a very high ceiling but an unstable floor. In a team race format, one bad frame can bleed into the next, and into the next cueist. Gorst is the highest-variance wildcard on ROW's roster. If he locks in, he is a spearhead. If he drifts, he is a hole. For Souquet, where to place Gorst in the order is a decision that could define the entire event.

Albert Januarta, 18, an Indonesian cueist. Silky smooth, mature, strong left-hand technique. High on the WNT rankings, consistently reaching the deep rounds of majors. This is the biggest talent signal in the entire list. An 18-year-old at the top of the world is rare. But Januarta has never played team format at this level. There is a precedent: AJ Manas, the previous Reyes Cup's young wildcard, once ignited the home crowd. Januarta could do the same — or crumble under the weight of Indonesian expectations. I have seen both scenarios. And I do not yet have enough data to pick one.

Jayson Shaw, nicknamed Eagle Eye, has eight Mosconi Cup titles. That is the most impressive team-format credential on ROW's roster. He is a cueist who feeds on crowd momentum, has charisma, delivers in tense moments, and serves as a vocal leader in the team corner. But in Manila, where the crowd will almost certainly lean toward Asia, Shaw's charisma can be a double-edged sword. A man who stirs the crowd sometimes stirs the opponent too. Shaw plays best when the crowd is with him; in Manila, the direction is reversed. And in a team corner the crowd dislikes, the role of psychological leader becomes harder — he must stay lucid without a single person cheering for him.

Here I must step away from the crowd. The majority laughed. The numbers did not. A year later, I re-file that column.

What most commentary is saying: ROW is stronger on paper, so ROW will win. Five former US Open champions on one roster is a number not to be dismissed. But I learned a lesson at the Mosconi Cup: a star-heavy lineup does not automatically win team format. Europe has lost to the USA with a roster stronger on paper. And the reverse. What decides is not the list, but the chemistry. Over four years of note-taking, I have never seen a team event where the cueist list was the sole deciding factor — I have seen chemistry decide at least half.

There is a paradox about home cloth that few are willing to state plainly. When home ground is no longer a fortress, I learn to listen to an empty stand. Manila's home advantage is real — but it has a ceiling. It cannot cover a skills gap if the gap is too large. It only amplifies advantages that were already fragile. Data from previous editions: Asia won twice, but each time by only a few frames. That is not dominance. That is balance tilting one way because of a handful of moments — one bad safety, one missed break, one between-frame pause not used.

And there is one thing the original analysis got right that I want to stress: the Reyes Cup's sample size is still too small. Asia's two wins are two data points, not a trend. In the Mosconi Cup's first two editions, the USA dominated before Europe flipped the script. One ROW win would reset the entire story. Asia's Reyes Cup dominance is currently a hypothesis with two data points, not a law. And any law built on two data points can collapse at the third.

Then there is Duong. If he is truly on ROW, every calculation about Asia's home advantage must be rewritten. Because the man who knows the Manila table best, who won there twice, is on the other side. One goalkeeper fumbling a catch is a mistake. Three goalkeepers fumbling is a signal. Here, one cueist switching teams is news. That cueist is the man who scored the decisive point for Asia — that is a signal.

I do not write to persuade anyone. I write so data has a witness.

When the event begins, look at three things before looking at the score. First, the opening frame of each session — who reaches the table first, who loses rhythm. Second, the decisive frames of short races, where team-format experience is compressed. Third, the between-frame pauses — who talks, who goes silent, who walks out alone. Those three things are not on the scoreboard, but they explain the scoreboard.

And if ROW wins this season, do not call it a surprise. Call it a new data point. The model knew in October. I just had enough courage to believe it in May.