Request for CJ Wiley

[CJ Wiley]

a picture of my younger years, you can be the judge.

I am enjoying these pool stories, C.J. Keep writing. This is what makes AzBilliards Discussion Forum a good place to read for pool aficionados. In case nobody has said it lately, thank you. :smile:

Okay. Now I've got a burning question, C.J., that I have refrained from asking, but I'm just curious. Are you a natural blond?

Pretty blond, more on the dark side, but I do get some help occasionally. I had many disguises at one time in my life Here's a picture of my younger years, you can be the judge.

 

[peteypooldude]

Pretty blond, more on the dark side, but I do get some help occasionally. I had many disguises at one time in my life Here's a picture of my younger years, you can be the judge.

Man I'd love to have one of those old pics
Signed of course lol
If your gonna ask you might as well ask for what you want
It could hang next to Keith Mcready, you'd be in good company

 

[CJ Wiley]

from a town (Columbia Mo.) 90 miles away and I started going there to gamble

Man I'd love to have one of those old pics
Signed of course lol
If your gonna ask you might as well ask for what you want
It could hang next to Keith Mcready, you'd be in good company

I've been thinking about producing some of these older ones into some limited edition posters at some point. Keith was an incredible player at a very young age and was beating most of California by the time he was 17. I ran my first rack of rotation when 13, so I started out pretty young as well.

I grew up playing 8 Ball and Rotation (15 Ball), and didn't start playing 9 Ball until 15 years old. I was at a Bowling Alley and a guy wanted to gamble playing 9 Ball and I agreed, but needed to have him explain the rules. After he explained them I broke and ran 3 racks (on an 8 ft. Table), and he quit visibly aggravated and said "you hustled me, I need "weight" to play more"....I replied with curiosity "why do you need to wait to play more, can't we just play now?"

This was all he could take and put his cue away visibly angry. I explained to him I didn't know what "weight" was and eventually he believed me - we ended up being good friends. He was from a town (Columbia Mo.) 90 miles away and I started going there to gamble and learned to play much better there at the Columbia Billiard Center.

This was the start of my "Road Playing" days where I branched on to St. Louis and then all over the Mid West at ages 16-18.

 

[Lock N Load]

I've been thinking about producing some of these older ones into some limited edition posters at some point. Keith was an incredible player at a very young age and was beating most of California by the time he was 17. I ran my first rack of rotation when 13, so I started out pretty young as well.

I grew up playing 8 Ball and Rotation (15 Ball), and didn't start playing 9 Ball until 15 years old. I was at a Bowling Alley and a guy wanted to gamble playing 9 Ball and I agreed, but needed to have him explain the rules. After he explained them I broke and ran 3 racks (on an 8 ft. Table), and he quit visibly aggravated and said "you hustled me, I need "weight" to play more"....I replied with curiosity "why do you need to wait to play more, can't we just play now?"

This was all he could take and put his cue away visibly angry. I explained to him I didn't know what "weight" was and eventually he believed me - we ended up being good friends. He was from a town (Columbia Mo.) 90 miles away and I started going there to gamble and learned to play much better there at the Columbia Billiard Center.

This was the start of my "Road Playing" days where I branched on to St. Louis and then all over the Mid West at ages 16-18.

Mr. CJ,
Did you ever play on Grand Ave, off of I-70 in St Louis, MO? I played there a few times. Nice pool hall, I do not remember the name. One of my friends in St Louis, Mo. Plays there a lot. He is also on AZB. I lost all of my trophies in Hurricane Katrina, all of my drag racing ones too, and my scrap books with photos and News Paper clippings. I could never replace them either! Thanks again Mr. CJ.
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[CJ Wiley]

'Louie's Game was the Teacher'

Mr. CJ,
Did you ever play on Grand Ave, off of I-70 in St Louis, MO? I played there a few times. Nice pool hall, I do not remember the name. One of my friends in St Louis, Mo. Plays there a lot. He is also on AZB. I lost all of my trophies in Hurricane Katrina, all of my drag racing ones too, and my scrap books with photos and News Paper clippings. I could never replace them either! Thanks again Mr. CJ.
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

If the place you're referring to is at Grand and Gravois, then yes, it was the 'Sports Palace' I think the name was (is?). I did play in there several time and even got snowed in once when 32 inches hit St. Louis in 80/81. It immobilized the whole city, shutting down all the buses and cabs. The only salvation was a White Castle across the street where we waded chest deep in snow to get some of those delicious little burgers.

The first time I played "St. Louie" Louie was in the Sports Palace when I was 16 years old. He was already a gambling legend and known for his super high speed and his wild "behaviors'. Louie gave me the "Last 3 and the Break" and I busted him, beating him about 10 games ahead in a matter of a couple of hours. He gave me a few chances when I needed them, but overall this was a LOT of weight to give me, even when I was 16. After we played I left with my friend and went to another pool room, 'Afton Billiards' and tried to get some more action to no avail.

We decided to go back to the Sports Palace, even though it had been a long day, and who do we see outside, but "St. Louie" in RARE form. Later I found out he had just guzzled a bottle of wine and "something else" and was "feeling no pain". He came up to me and said aggressively "hey kid, I'm ready to play some more of that same game".....feeling some pressure I replied "no, Louie, I gotta go get some sleep, I've been up a long time".

"You think you've been up a long time, I'm on my third day, COME ON, I'll give you the "Last 4 and the Break". I looked at my partner "man, I gotta play this game, I just beat him with a ball less".

I agreed to play and we went in and got a table. That was a mistake, I learned what everyone talked about when they said Louie had an atomic gear when he got his "mixture right". He played a level I had never seen up to that point of time. He played flawlessly in a specatularly fashion - I remember when he had a cross side bank just wishing the rail was loose so he might actually miss a ball. [I could tell this was wishful thinking]

No such luck, Louie put the finishing touches on me and won all his previous money back plus a couple a hundred. I put up the "white flag" and chalked this up to learning a lesson and seeing what atomic pool really was.

I didn't play Louie again until 3 years later, and the situation was different, the game was no longer the "Last 3 and the Break," it had been reduced to the Wild 8, and we were were playing in Texas (Rusty's on NW HWY).....my future home of Dallas. And this time "St. Louie" Louie was in for a surprise, I also was developing an "atomic gear," and he was going to get a sample example.

'Our Game was the Teacher'

 

[JAM]

Pretty blond, more on the dark side, but I do get some help occasionally. I had many disguises at one time in my life Here's a picture of my younger years, you can be the judge.

Always good to have different looks when on the road. A road player named Geese told me that when he hustled pool in Texas, he bought cowboy boots because, according to him, if he went in a joint with tennis shoes, it would be a dead give-away that he was a "road agent."

Another thing about playing on the road, which is different today than yesterday, players shot with house cues when they were the "stranger in town," unlike today when players walk in with their own cues. It was a real challenge to win against the house man playing with his own personal cue on equipment he was familiar with and the road agent shooting with the house cue in strange turf.

Yeah, I'm dark blond today myself, never colored my hair, but with the new silver that is starting to creep in, my color is looking lighter in recent times.

Here's me in my young life. I was definitely blonder and had more hair, to boot. :grin:

 

[CJ Wiley]

More Pool Stories - An Article From 'Texas Monthly' by Michael Geffner

Wiley remembers how easily the action flowed right after the release of 1986’s The Color of Money. Thanks to that film, Wiley clipped off an entire bar in Pittsburgh over the course of an evening. He began with the owner, a pigeon who knew the flick by heart. He led Wiley up to hid private pool table on the second floor, saying, “It’s just like the movie. You saw the movie, right?” The Owner couldn't hit the floor with his hat.

“After I beat him out of a few hundred, stalling to keep the games close, he quits and has me play everybody else in the building: the bartender, the cook, the dishwasher, five locals and finally the best player in town. By night’s end, I had the owner stuck around 65 hundred. ‘You know kid, you played a lot better at the end than you did at the beginning.’ He says to me. I looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘Well, you saw the movie right?’”

Wiley was part of an elite underground group called “road players,” traveling pool assassins hiding below the radar y never showing their faces in tournaments. “There were only around 30 of us,” says Wiley, who’s run a dozen racks without missing and won as much as $20,000 in a single night. “I’m talking about the solid ones, the guys who consistently got the cash.” These players were known through the grapevine simply by their nicknames: Frisco Jack and One-Eyed Rd, Water-dog and Shaft Man, Big John and The Faceless Man. “We knew each other, and there was a camaraderie. We even worked together taking off scores, calling each other with steers into good games.

“In the pool world, the road player is the most respected, way more than the tournament winners. We’re not just great players. We’re a special bread. We have nerves strong enough to hold up for the big money. We have something extra—a killer instinct, an ice-cold hearts.” He pauses, then, unflinchingly, adds: “I had both in abundance.”

Wake-up Call

High-stakes pool hustling is a dangerous game. Hustlers get hurt. Wiley has been clocked with a pair of roundhouses, been slipped a Mickey at least three times and was robbed at gunpoint twice. “Both times was after I won a lot of money,” he says. “Both, I’m convinced, were setups.” It didn't stop him, though. Wiley accepted those things as occupational hazards. “I was on an adventure, and I never saw a great adventure movie without the star being chased, shot at and running for his life.”

The first time Wiley stared down the barrel of a gun while hustling, he was 18. It was 3 a.m. in a seedy section of Minneapolis, near Gentleman Jim’s, a 24-hour poolroom well-known for its big money action. Wiley had scored around seven grand and was riding a rush of adrenaline. The gunman stuck his .45 so hard underneath Wiley’s chin it rose the Texan onto his toes. The mugger made off with only $400, speeding off in a car. “luckily,” Wiley says, “my partner was always the one who carried most of the money.”

Wiley was shaken but not stirred. “It had no lasting effect,” he says. “it was just a wake-up call.” In fact, he was robber again a year later, in Albemarle, North Carolina, at some bootleg liquor joint with a backroom pool table by a guy with a shotgun who wore a nylon stocking over his head. He still felt bulletproof, though he finally learned to leave town in a hurry after big wins.

Rack ‘em

Born and raised in Green City, Missouri, a desperately small, poor cattle town 136 miles from Kansas City, Wiley started shooting stick at seven, standing on a wooden soda case to reach the table. Four years later he was the best player in town; by 15 he was outgunning guys twice his age for $20 a game. He found his nirvana in his senior year in high school. During Christmas break, he and two experienced partners embarked on a road trip, working spots all over Oklahoma and Kansas. The trio took in $16,000 in just 40 days. Wiley never sat though another class again.

From ages 18 to 26 Wiley lived constantly on the move. His Sky-Pager would go off in the middle of the night, alerting him to action. In 1987, Wiley relocated to Dallas to be centrally located between both coasts. He’d plan trips on his motor home based on trips from an underground network of informants. “I would take a map, circle spots I wanted to hit and connect them as strategically as I would if I were running a rack of balls,” he says. All the inside info was compiled in a “spot book,” a hustler’s little black book containing addresses of action joints, names of gambling players, how well they played, what games they liked and how much they liked to bet.

He assumed aliases: Mike from Indiana, Chris from Missouri or Butch from Tennessee. “I once went to a spot where the locals were talking about all three of my aliases and arguing which one was the best player.” He posed as a college student, a computer salesman, even a drug dealer. He used fake IDs and phony glasses. (“a guy with glasses can always get played.”) He blended with locals by mimicking their behavior, dress and accents, even occasionally stealing license plates. He did whatever it took to get the game. “There were only three guys in the country I wouldn't play,” he says, “and I knew who those guys were.”

He also had a favorite line that never failed to lure ‘em in. Wiley would simply smile and say, “I’m very good at pool—is anyone here as good as me?” He found it was better to be cocky than pretend to be a bad player and what could guys say when he beat them? He’d warned them he was good.

Like most hustlers, Wiley traveled with a partner. This guy held most if the cash, watched his back and helped the scam. “Sometimes, I’d act like the stake-horse and my partner would be the player,” he says. “My partners could play, though not as well as I could. He’d beat a guy until he quit, then the guy would say to me, ‘I can’t beat him, but I’ll play you.’ They assumed that I couldn't play since I was staking the money. They didn't realize they’d stepped into a bigger trap.”

Eight ball in the corner pocket

Wiley didn’t just roll chumps. “My forte was beating players who were supposedly unbeatable on their home tables. Even if they played as well as I did, I’d simply outlast them.” He built a rep for intimidating opponents, slamming balls into pockets with a popping stroke, making long-range shots as if they were mere tap-ins and shooting so fast he ran racks in minutes. He accompanied this with a mean game face derived from biting the inside of his mouth until he bled. “With good players, I didn't just want to beat them, I wanted to crush them,” he says. “I got off on seeing their knees buckle, seeing fear in their eyes.”

Wiley’s reputation began to precede him, and the money dried up. He retired from hustling for good and went legit, joining the pros in 1991. Four years later, frustrated with the piddling prize money, he quit that, too, but not before being ranked as high as fourth in the world. “What I made in a year on the pro tour, I used to make in one night hustling.”

Now 38 and more than a decade removed from his poolroom cons, Wiley is still hustling—but in the business world. Today, he owns a 24-hour poolroom and a $3.5 million sports bar. He lives in a three-bedroom home in the swanky suburb of Lake Highlands, outside Dallas.

Does he ever miss the pool-hustling life? “At the time, I loved everything about the life, especially the freedom and being able to travel around the country,” Wiley says. “When I look back on it now, it sickens me. I was a pure predator. I’d hate to ever go back to that, even though I was a winner.”

 

[Lock N Load]

Always good to have different looks when on the road. A road player named Geese told me that when he hustled pool in Texas, he bought cowboy boots because, according to him, if he went in a joint with tennis shoes, it would be a dead give-away that he was a "road agent."

Another thing about playing on the road, which is different today than yesterday, players shot with house cues when they were the "stranger in town," unlike today when players walk in with their own cues. It was a real challenge to win against the house man playing with his own personal cue on equipment he was familiar with and the road agent shooting with the house cue in strange turf.

Yeah, I'm dark blond today myself, never colored my hair, but with the new silver that is starting to creep in, my color is looking lighter in recent times.

Here's me in my young life. I was definitely blonder and had more hair, to boot. :grin:

Good looking photo of you in your young days, Jam. Thanks for sharing.
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[Lock N Load]

Wiley remembers how easily the action flowed right after the release of 1986’s The Color of Money. Thanks to that film, Wiley clipped off an entire bar in Pittsburgh over the course of an evening. He began with the owner, a pigeon who knew the flick by heart. He led Wiley up to hid private pool table on the second floor, saying, “It’s just like the movie. You saw the movie, right?” The Owner couldn't hit the floor with his hat.

“After I beat him out of a few hundred, stalling to keep the games close, he quits and has me play everybody else in the building: the bartender, the cook, the dishwasher, five locals and finally the best player in town. By night’s end, I had the owner stuck around 65 hundred. ‘You know kid, you played a lot better at the end than you did at the beginning.’ He says to me. I looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘Well, you saw the movie right?’”

Wiley was part of an elite underground group called “road players,” traveling pool assassins hiding below the radar y never showing their faces in tournaments. “There were only around 30 of us,” says Wiley, who’s run a dozen racks without missing and won as much as $20,000 in a single night. “I’m talking about the solid ones, the guys who consistently got the cash.” These players were known through the grapevine simply by their nicknames: Frisco Jack and One-Eyed Rd, Water-dog and Shaft Man, Big John and The Faceless Man. “We knew each other, and there was a camaraderie. We even worked together taking off scores, calling each other with steers into good games.

“In the pool world, the road player is the most respected, way more than the tournament winners. We’re not just great players. We’re a special bread. We have nerves strong enough to hold up for the big money. We have something extra—a killer instinct, an ice-cold hearts.” He pauses, then, unflinchingly, adds: “I had both in abundance.”

Wake-up Call

High-stakes pool hustling is a dangerous game. Hustlers get hurt. Wiley has been clocked with a pair of roundhouses, been slipped a Mickey at least three times and was robbed at gunpoint twice. “Both times was after I won a lot of money,” he says. “Both, I’m convinced, were setups.” It didn't stop him, though. Wiley accepted those things as occupational hazards. “I was on an adventure, and I never saw a great adventure movie without the star being chased, shot at and running for his life.”

The first time Wiley stared down the barrel of a gun while hustling, he was 18. It was 3 a.m. in a seedy section of Minneapolis, near Gentleman Jim’s, a 24-hour poolroom well-known for its big money action. Wiley had scored around seven grand and was riding a rush of adrenaline. The gunman stuck his .45 so hard underneath Wiley’s chin it rose the Texan onto his toes. The mugger made off with only $400, speeding off in a car. “luckily,” Wiley says, “my partner was always the one who carried most of the money.”

Wiley was shaken but not stirred. “It had no lasting effect,” he says. “it was just a wake-up call.” In fact, he was robber again a year later, in Albemarle, North Carolina, at some bootleg liquor joint with a backroom pool table by a guy with a shotgun who wore a nylon stocking over his head. He still felt bulletproof, though he finally learned to leave town in a hurry after big wins.

Rack ‘em

Born and raised in Green City, Missouri, a desperately small, poor cattle town 136 miles from Kansas City, Wiley started shooting stick at seven, standing on a wooden soda case to reach the table. Four years later he was the best player in town; by 15 he was outgunning guys twice his age for $20 a game. He found his nirvana in his senior year in high school. During Christmas break, he and two experienced partners embarked on a road trip, working spots all over Oklahoma and Kansas. The trio took in $16,000 in just 40 days. Wiley never sat though another class again.

From ages 18 to 26 Wiley lived constantly on the move. His Sky-Pager would go off in the middle of the night, alerting him to action. In 1987, Wiley relocated to Dallas to be centrally located between both coasts. He’d plan trips on his motor home based on trips from an underground network of informants. “I would take a map, circle spots I wanted to hit and connect them as strategically as I would if I were running a rack of balls,” he says. All the inside info was compiled in a “spot book,” a hustler’s little black book containing addresses of action joints, names of gambling players, how well they played, what games they liked and how much they liked to bet.

He assumed aliases: Mike from Indiana, Chris from Missouri or Butch from Tennessee. “I once went to a spot where the locals were talking about all three of my aliases and arguing which one was the best player.” He posed as a college student, a computer salesman, even a drug dealer. He used fake IDs and phony glasses. (“a guy with glasses can always get played.”) He blended with locals by mimicking their behavior, dress and accents, even occasionally stealing license plates. He did whatever it took to get the game. “There were only three guys in the country I wouldn't play,” he says, “and I knew who those guys were.”

He also had a favorite line that never failed to lure ‘em in. Wiley would simply smile and say, “I’m very good at pool—is anyone here as good as me?” He found it was better to be cocky than pretend to be a bad player and what could guys say when he beat them? He’d warned them he was good.

Like most hustlers, Wiley traveled with a partner. This guy held most if the cash, watched his back and helped the scam. “Sometimes, I’d act like the stake-horse and my partner would be the player,” he says. “My partners could play, though not as well as I could. He’d beat a guy until he quit, then the guy would say to me, ‘I can’t beat him, but I’ll play you.’ They assumed that I couldn't play since I was staking the money. They didn't realize they’d stepped into a bigger trap.”

Eight ball in the corner pocket

Wiley didn’t just roll chumps. “My forte was beating players who were supposedly unbeatable on their home tables. Even if they played as well as I did, I’d simply outlast them.” He built a rep for intimidating opponents, slamming balls into pockets with a popping stroke, making long-range shots as if they were mere tap-ins and shooting so fast he ran racks in minutes. He accompanied this with a mean game face derived from biting the inside of his mouth until he bled. “With good players, I didn't just want to beat them, I wanted to crush them,” he says. “I got off on seeing their knees buckle, seeing fear in their eyes.”

Wiley’s reputation began to precede him, and the money dried up. He retired from hustling for good and went legit, joining the pros in 1991. Four years later, frustrated with the piddling prize money, he quit that, too, but not before being ranked as high as fourth in the world. “What I made in a year on the pro tour, I used to make in one night hustling.”

Now 38 and more than a decade removed from his poolroom cons, Wiley is still hustling—but in the business world. Today, he owns a 24-hour poolroom and a $3.5 million sports bar. He lives in a three-bedroom home in the swanky suburb of Lake Highlands, outside Dallas.

Does he ever miss the pool-hustling life? “At the time, I loved everything about the life, especially the freedom and being able to travel around the country,” Wiley says. “When I look back on it now, it sickens me. I was a pure predator. I’d hate to ever go back to that, even though I was a winner.”

Mr. CJ,
What an Awesome story! Some of my good memories came back to me from your story. I can relate to it too. Thanks, Thanks, Thanks!
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[catpool9]

Good looking photo of you in your young days, Jam. Thanks for sharing.
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

Lock,

I'll have to second that, Jam sure is a LQQKER!:smile:


David Harcrow

 

[Lock N Load]

Lock,

I'll have to second that, Jam sure is a LQQKER!:smile:


David Harcrow

CatMan,
And three times a Lady!
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[CJ Wiley]

They hated to see their money going into a wallet

Always good to have different looks when on the road. A road player named Geese told me that when he hustled pool in Texas, he bought cowboy boots because, according to him, if he went in a joint with tennis shoes, it would be a dead give-away that he was a "road agent."

Another thing about playing on the road, which is different today than yesterday, players shot with house cues when they were the "stranger in town," unlike today when players walk in with their own cues. It was a real challenge to win against the house man playing with his own personal cue on equipment he was familiar with and the road agent shooting with the house cue in strange turf.

Yeah, I'm dark blond today myself, never colored my hair, but with the new silver that is starting to creep in, my color is looking lighter in recent times.

Here's me in my young life. I was definitely blonder and had more hair, to boot. :grin:

You look like you could have been my little sister, although my real sister looks nothing like me. We are very different, as a matter of fact, she's a best selling author and a Professor in the field of Theology.

Yes, the hustler must know how to dress to be effective. I always carried my money in my wallet, this was a strong move when your around a gambling crowd. They hated to see their money going into a wallet, it was like I was tucking it into another dimension.

I used the wallet, always wore boots, usually wore a camouflage vest (in winter) and plaid shirts, and of course a "Makin Bakon" hat

to polish off my style. I worked very well, I got action everywhere I went for many years.

 

[Lock N Load]

You look like you could have been my little sister, although my real sister looks nothing like me. We are very different, as a matter of fact, she's a best selling author and a Professor in the field of Theology.

Yes, the hustler must know how to dress to be effective. I always carried my money in my wallet, this was a strong move when your around a gambling crowd. They hated to see their money going into a wallet, it was like I was tucking it into another dimension.

I used the wallet, always wore boots, usually wore a camouflage vest (in winter) and plaid shirts, and of course a "Makin Bakon" hat

to polish off my style. I worked very well, I got action everywhere I went for many years.

Hello Mr. CJ,
Look at the link below! This guy look like you!
http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=...ed=0CCwQrQMwAA
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[CJ Wiley]

I dodged cameras like the "unpopular kid in dodge ball class".

Hello Mr. CJ,
Look at the link below! This guy look like you!
http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=...ed=0CCwQrQMwAA
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

It would be funny to have some pictures from those days, but I dodged cameras like the "unpopular kid in dodge ball class".

The link doesn't go to a picture, just to "google images" LNL....you may have miss copied it.

Play Well

 

[Lock N Load]

It would be funny to have some pictures from those days, but I dodged cameras like the "unpopular kid in dodge ball class".

The link doesn't go to a picture, just to "google images" LNL....you may have miss copied it.

Play Well

I thought I copied it right but I did not. I will try again.
Many Regards,
Lock N Load.

 

[CJ Wiley]

stories of the "Road Playing Days" here's one I wrote about a road trip

CJ first off I want to thank you for adding so much useful content to this site. I wish more pro players took an interest in growing the sport and helping others improve as you have. Now for my request. I know you we're one of the top players for years, but more importantly you always seemed to be in action. You went after all the top players. Would you please relay some of your top gambling stories. I as well as the whole forum would love to hear how you played these guys and some of your big scores. I believe I also heard you say that there were only four players that you would not play, who were they.
Please share the wealth with us action junkies!
Thanks

Since you like stories of the "Road Playing Days" here's one I wrote about a road trip, of course the names have been changed to protect the innocent. This is PART I - I'll post the rest later tonight:


I sat in the backseat, thumping through my partners roadmap. Each state had
many towns circled with names, numbers and descriptions beside them. I knew
if I wanted more detail they also had a "spot book" that would have every
player in each town with a description of them and an order in which we
would ideally "take the town off".

You see we weren't interested in just
beating someone playing pool, we were out to beat the whole town out of as
much as possible. Most little towns had their "champion" that everybody
would bet on and usually we would have to play him to win a big score, but
not always. I have been a part of huge scores where we were playing someone
that couldn't hit the ocean if they were standing on the beach. I wasn't
the one that was usually playing the pigeons. That was usually done by my
partner that looked more like a football player than a pool player, but
don't ever let looks deceive you, he could play right under championship
speed, especially on the bar size tables.

Sometimes it was difficult to even know what state we were in when we
finally got a hotel at the end of the night, but I didn't even care. I just
needed to find my next opponent like a junkie needs that next fix. I loved
the action, but more importantly I loved to win the money. There are many
people that think they are "pool hustlers" but there are several levels that
most are unaware of.

First you have the scuffler. He is the bottom feeder
and constantly moves around to different bars looking for someone that is
either drunk or simply can't play. This type guy wouldn't bet two big dogs
could whip a little dog and usually won't even put up $100 unless he sees
buzzards flying over the poor victim. Next you have the typical hustler.
This guy usually plays better than he looks and knows a thousand and one
proposition games that look to good to be true and definitely are.


We like some of these guys, but they don't really get any true respect from my
group. Then there are the "players". These guys play like burning hell as
long as they can't lose any of there own money. They usually have a
"stake-horse" that puts up the money and they play their hearts out.
Unfortunately their hearts aren't that resilient and even though they play
well and run balls properly, when they get up against the elite group
they know their place and usually bow out peacefully once they know
they are in a bad game.

The next group are the ones that we get
involved with and it is purely business. I know they will get the money and
we don't have to worry about gambling, but strategically milk the room for the
maximum amount. We are called the "road warriors". We stay on the road
because once people know who we are and how we play they would rather gargle
razor blades than play us for any amount of money. Not only will they lose
their precious to us, chances are they will lose their self esteem (temporarily) as
well. we relish the thought of not only beating another player, but enjoy sending to a shrink for a month or two. The beauty is
there's no physical harm, unlike a boxer that can cause brain damage
physically, we just wanted to cause damage mentally and financially.

"We have arrived! You better write down your names so you don't forget this
time".

I reached into the front seat and was handed the "spot book". I thumbed
through until I found the town that we were in and started to study the
information. Looks like there is one main pool room and two bars that
everybody gambles in.

The pool room had a player with a seven beside his
name and description of what he played, how much he would bet and how he had
lost the most money in the past. The other bars had a couple of scufflers
that fed off two of the regulars. One owned a car dealership and the other
was a bookmaker that took sports bets and used one of the bars as an
"office".

I immediately knew that he would be my target. The main goal
would be to go to the bar and mix with the crowd for awhile. We would get
on the pool table and bet a few dollars, but we would be more interested on
meeting the key people and putting something in their head that would elicit
greed. You can't con an honest man, right? We basically wanted everyone to
know that we had a lot of money and not much sense.

We pulled over at a little country cafe and went in to get some good food
before we were subjected to the bar scene, where pork rines were considered
a delicacy. We would also use this time to get a plan together and decide
who would play and in what order and if we would split up and cover the pool
room and the bars. I enjoyed this as much as actually playing sometimes.
Like I said before it is not the winning that was important to a road
player, but winning the maximum amount that made the difference.


I would run in to other road players that were unfortunate enough to get behind us
on a road trip. They would come in to town a day or two after we had left.
I always got a good laugh when they would comment that we would leave
nothing but tombstones in these poor pool rooms and bars. Some of the towns
wouldn't take kindly to someone asking to play for money soon after we had
tortured them. They weren't in the best of moods about gambling at pool
after we had drained them.

CONTINUED LATER TODAY: 'The Road was the Teacher'

 

[hwest]

“There were only three guys in the country I wouldn't play,” he says, “and I knew who those guys were.”

Who were the 3 guys you wouldn't play back then?

 

[thebighurt]

It would be funny to have some pictures from those days, but I dodged cameras like the "unpopular kid in dodge ball class".

The link doesn't go to a picture, just to "google images" LNL....you may have miss copied it.

Play Well

Did you ever play Toby Sweet?

 

[CJ Wiley]

Yes, I played Toby Sweet down in Miami in 1985.

Did you ever play Toby Sweet?

Yes, I played Toby Sweet down in Miami in 1985. I was with Strong Arm John and we were preparing the area for something they would not soon forget. I got the 8 Ball and lost to Toby and he played very, very well. Danny D. was hanging around that pool room too, and went to the horse track a few times with that group.

It was in Hollywood Florida I believe, or maybe it was "Hollywood Billiards," John and I ended up winning over 30k in that area. "Airport Steve", Jimmy Metts, and Tommy Brown were all around that area and we had a lot of fun playing and matching up every day, in every way.

 

[rayjay]

...we relish the thought of not only beating another player, but enjoy sending to a shrink for a month or two. The beauty is there's no physical harm, unlike a boxer that can cause brain damage physically, we just wanted to cause damage mentally and financially.

Funny that you wouldn't think that psychological or financial damage is not long lasting. Did you ever wear a wig?