When I was 18, young and dumb with no responsibilities, I wandered into Hank’s in Rockville, MD. One bar box, a room full of regulars, and a waiting list 20 names deep. It felt like a clubhouse, and I was hooked. I had no game. None. When they played partners to speed things up, I never got picked.
One night I was down to my last dollar and ready to leave when a stranger walked in. Nobody would partner with him because if you lose, it might be another hour and half before your name came up on the list to play another partners game. He looked at me, sitting alone in the booth, and asked if I'd be his partner. I warned him, "We're playing a buck a man," and he said, "That's okay." Well, I jumped. We held the table the rest of the night, winning a buck each a game. Turns out my partner was Tom-Tom Wirth, a Maryland pool champ. He became my friend and my doorway into real poolrooms, big tables, and real players. I learned by watching, hanging on the rail, and later going on the road with a player named Geese. In Petersburg, VA, I walked straight past a sign that said “NO WOMEN ALLOWED” with my cue case in tow. Nobody stopped me. Somewhere along the way, I got game. Back at Hank’s, when I dropped my quarter, the bar would turn around to watch the girl shoot. I loved every second of beating the guys.
I share this because being a woman in pool wasn’t easy then or now. Sometimes AzBilliards felt the same way. I took my lumps, not understanding social media culture. Today I’m an old gray mare, but I can still run a rack. And if I can’t beat you, I’ve got a pinch shooter who can.
Maybe one isn't the loneliest number.