A little late (and long), but if you're bored, read on:
Soooo, I decided I’d try out the SBE. Like everyone else, I’d heard a lot about the event over the years and figured I’d want to go sooner or later, so why not sooner? I flew into Philly Thursday afternoon, got the rental, checked into the Courtyard five minutes from the convention center, and tooled on over.
In spite of having heard many descriptions about the Expo, I guess I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. For me, the SBE fell somewhere between one of those big home improvement shows at a convention center and, for lack of a better comparison, a state fair exhibition hall. The convention center itself has, no doubt, seen better days. And throughout the place there is this palpable smell that permeates everything, but particularly the downstairs (I didn’t figure out, until I smelled my clothes the next day, that it was the grease from the non-stop frying of various food products they were cooking downstairs).
For the first couple of hours, I just wandered around the two stories of vendors selling everything pool and sorta pool, lost amongst the bazillion bar table players, either playing, or also wandering around looking at all the gimcracks: tables, balls, racks, tips, t-shirts, lathes, chalk, chalk holders, shafts, cleaners, polishes, bumpers, cue parts, glues, cases, and cues. Lots of cues. Actually though, I was a bit disappointed in the custom cue work on display. I think the vast majority of cues I saw were of the production variety and the custom guys all seemed to have just a small number of cues on display. I did enjoy looking at some of the vintage cues a couple of vendors had and it’s always interesting to hear what the market prices are on some of the Szambotis, Rambows, and Balabuskas. (Or at least what the asking prices are
There were several cue mechanics doing work and it was interesting to watch how each would perform the same task, like re-tipping a cue and cleaning a shaft. Each seemed to have their own tricks and there’s an education of sorts to be had if you just go from booth to booth and see how each guy does it.
Eventually I wandered over to the 14.1 Challenge and watched that for a while. I got a chance to observe a couple of East Coast players who I’d heard about, but never seen play before: Danny Barouty, walking around the table looking like a life-sized Paddington Bear; Bob Maidoff, an intense kinda guy who I thought had the best mechanics of the players I watched. Of course I knew several of the players from the DCC. I gave the challenge a shot and totally blowed. I’m just not a good enough player to adjust to a table like a tight, fast, boingy Diamond, with polished balls, with just one rack of practice. I did it and it was probably the longest five innings of my life.
Still it was fun, in a masochistic way. And after experiencing the table conditions first-hand, it was even more fun (in a sadistic way) watching the other players compete. It very much took on a “King-of-the Hill” motorcycle climb flavor. You sat there and watched them grind and grind and fight their way up an impossibly steep slope, until… they paused, became almost suspended in mid-air, inevitably failed, and fell. The hill always wins.
I watched a bit of The Pit action, but it was five deep all around the table and tough to figure out what exactly was going on unless you were ring-side. Dinner was at Creedos and I gotta say that if you’re looking for a steak house, keep looking. Their 45-day dry aged Delmonico Angus was not worth the price. My bad luck with hotels at pool tournaments continued. After getting in at 2am, the hotel let loose at 8am with landscapers armed with leaf-blowers. Their first target was apparently an offending pile of leaves right underneath my room window.
Duly awaken, I grabbed a Starbucks and headed over to D&D Family Billiards. My thought was: I’d practice up a bit and give the 14.1 Challenge another go. The pool room, about 30 minutes from the convention center, is in the back of a small strip mall. Eight GCs, newly recovered, nice clean balls, a pleasant quiet atmosphere, oldies on the sound system. I wandered over to a table in the back and racked the balls. Another player intoned, “You know that’s a triple-shimmed table, don’t you?” I looked down at the pockets and indeed it was. No matter, I run a 40, and a bit later a 50, and am feeling pretty good and now I’m looking forward to tackling one of the Diamonds at the Expo.
Back at the SBE I wander around all the booths again, doing a slow pass. Of course the one thing I wanted to buy -- some super-fine 2600 grit sandpaper -- not a single vendor in this pool Merkato had. Somehow I had missed the "Fury Pavilion," tucked back in a corner on the second floor, and decide I’ll see if John Barton is in. And he is. In fact, he’s sitting at the entrance to his booth next to Jimbo, with Fred hovering nearby, and it’s sort of like a mini-RSB reunion. And so we all talk about various things for an hour, until John gets hot talking about cue cases (in particular, about past discussions concerning cue case protection), walks away, and that’s that. Jimbo informs me about a gathering planned later that night. And I break for dinner at Legal Seafood down at the mall. A good dinner was had by all.
So I head back for the 14.1 Challenge and put my name on the list. It was interesting to sit and talk with folks watching the challenge. Some had no clue what was going on. Others were obviously enthralled with the man vs. mountain nature of the whole thing. One guy even told me, “I was going to go watch the pros play 10-ball, but this is just as compelling, if not better.” I watch Bobby Chamberlain put up what, in my mind, was the longest 100 ball run in the history of pool. I mean, there were lots of histrionics, a long pause to chat at length with spectators between each rack, frequent wiping of the brow, pauses for talc applications to the bridge hand, much grimacing and fretting upon the stage, if you know what I mean. In all the years of watching the 14.1 Challenge at the DCC, and now here, this is the first time I’ve thought someone, for the love of God, should pull out a shot clock. It was ridiculous.
So anyway, after a couple of hours I’m waiting and waiting and I’m told there’s only two guys in front of me, so I continue to wait. It’s approaching midnight and now, out of nowhere, Charlie Williams is putting his cue together and Mike Davis is apparently on deck, and I ask where I am on the list and am told that, while my name had risen to the top of the list, Charlie and Mike were, “only going to shoot one inning” because of earlier tournament scheduling conflicts and I go, “OK.” Charlie warms up, begins his inning, runs a couple of racks. And misses. And then he starts racking for another inning. And Lou decides he doesn’t like getting bumped (particularly for Charlie Williams) and is tired of waiting and it’s time for a beer or two or three. I have missed Jimbo’s party (sorry about that big guy) and must now drink Coors Light. After a few cans, it’s long past midnight, they have cut off beer sales, my clothes stink of grease, and I call it a wrap.
Overall, I think that if you like bar tables, this is probably a killer event. It seemed like there was something for everyone: singles, teams, seniors and from a distance, it seemed like the tournaments were well-run affairs. I enjoyed seeing many friends from past events, travels, and adventures. For me, I’m glad I went, but probably won’t return. But I am happy it’s off the Bucket List.
Lou Figueroa
Soooo, I decided I’d try out the SBE. Like everyone else, I’d heard a lot about the event over the years and figured I’d want to go sooner or later, so why not sooner? I flew into Philly Thursday afternoon, got the rental, checked into the Courtyard five minutes from the convention center, and tooled on over.
In spite of having heard many descriptions about the Expo, I guess I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. For me, the SBE fell somewhere between one of those big home improvement shows at a convention center and, for lack of a better comparison, a state fair exhibition hall. The convention center itself has, no doubt, seen better days. And throughout the place there is this palpable smell that permeates everything, but particularly the downstairs (I didn’t figure out, until I smelled my clothes the next day, that it was the grease from the non-stop frying of various food products they were cooking downstairs).
For the first couple of hours, I just wandered around the two stories of vendors selling everything pool and sorta pool, lost amongst the bazillion bar table players, either playing, or also wandering around looking at all the gimcracks: tables, balls, racks, tips, t-shirts, lathes, chalk, chalk holders, shafts, cleaners, polishes, bumpers, cue parts, glues, cases, and cues. Lots of cues. Actually though, I was a bit disappointed in the custom cue work on display. I think the vast majority of cues I saw were of the production variety and the custom guys all seemed to have just a small number of cues on display. I did enjoy looking at some of the vintage cues a couple of vendors had and it’s always interesting to hear what the market prices are on some of the Szambotis, Rambows, and Balabuskas. (Or at least what the asking prices are
There were several cue mechanics doing work and it was interesting to watch how each would perform the same task, like re-tipping a cue and cleaning a shaft. Each seemed to have their own tricks and there’s an education of sorts to be had if you just go from booth to booth and see how each guy does it.
Eventually I wandered over to the 14.1 Challenge and watched that for a while. I got a chance to observe a couple of East Coast players who I’d heard about, but never seen play before: Danny Barouty, walking around the table looking like a life-sized Paddington Bear; Bob Maidoff, an intense kinda guy who I thought had the best mechanics of the players I watched. Of course I knew several of the players from the DCC. I gave the challenge a shot and totally blowed. I’m just not a good enough player to adjust to a table like a tight, fast, boingy Diamond, with polished balls, with just one rack of practice. I did it and it was probably the longest five innings of my life.
Still it was fun, in a masochistic way. And after experiencing the table conditions first-hand, it was even more fun (in a sadistic way) watching the other players compete. It very much took on a “King-of-the Hill” motorcycle climb flavor. You sat there and watched them grind and grind and fight their way up an impossibly steep slope, until… they paused, became almost suspended in mid-air, inevitably failed, and fell. The hill always wins.
I watched a bit of The Pit action, but it was five deep all around the table and tough to figure out what exactly was going on unless you were ring-side. Dinner was at Creedos and I gotta say that if you’re looking for a steak house, keep looking. Their 45-day dry aged Delmonico Angus was not worth the price. My bad luck with hotels at pool tournaments continued. After getting in at 2am, the hotel let loose at 8am with landscapers armed with leaf-blowers. Their first target was apparently an offending pile of leaves right underneath my room window.
Duly awaken, I grabbed a Starbucks and headed over to D&D Family Billiards. My thought was: I’d practice up a bit and give the 14.1 Challenge another go. The pool room, about 30 minutes from the convention center, is in the back of a small strip mall. Eight GCs, newly recovered, nice clean balls, a pleasant quiet atmosphere, oldies on the sound system. I wandered over to a table in the back and racked the balls. Another player intoned, “You know that’s a triple-shimmed table, don’t you?” I looked down at the pockets and indeed it was. No matter, I run a 40, and a bit later a 50, and am feeling pretty good and now I’m looking forward to tackling one of the Diamonds at the Expo.
Back at the SBE I wander around all the booths again, doing a slow pass. Of course the one thing I wanted to buy -- some super-fine 2600 grit sandpaper -- not a single vendor in this pool Merkato had. Somehow I had missed the "Fury Pavilion," tucked back in a corner on the second floor, and decide I’ll see if John Barton is in. And he is. In fact, he’s sitting at the entrance to his booth next to Jimbo, with Fred hovering nearby, and it’s sort of like a mini-RSB reunion. And so we all talk about various things for an hour, until John gets hot talking about cue cases (in particular, about past discussions concerning cue case protection), walks away, and that’s that. Jimbo informs me about a gathering planned later that night. And I break for dinner at Legal Seafood down at the mall. A good dinner was had by all.
So I head back for the 14.1 Challenge and put my name on the list. It was interesting to sit and talk with folks watching the challenge. Some had no clue what was going on. Others were obviously enthralled with the man vs. mountain nature of the whole thing. One guy even told me, “I was going to go watch the pros play 10-ball, but this is just as compelling, if not better.” I watch Bobby Chamberlain put up what, in my mind, was the longest 100 ball run in the history of pool. I mean, there were lots of histrionics, a long pause to chat at length with spectators between each rack, frequent wiping of the brow, pauses for talc applications to the bridge hand, much grimacing and fretting upon the stage, if you know what I mean. In all the years of watching the 14.1 Challenge at the DCC, and now here, this is the first time I’ve thought someone, for the love of God, should pull out a shot clock. It was ridiculous.
So anyway, after a couple of hours I’m waiting and waiting and I’m told there’s only two guys in front of me, so I continue to wait. It’s approaching midnight and now, out of nowhere, Charlie Williams is putting his cue together and Mike Davis is apparently on deck, and I ask where I am on the list and am told that, while my name had risen to the top of the list, Charlie and Mike were, “only going to shoot one inning” because of earlier tournament scheduling conflicts and I go, “OK.” Charlie warms up, begins his inning, runs a couple of racks. And misses. And then he starts racking for another inning. And Lou decides he doesn’t like getting bumped (particularly for Charlie Williams) and is tired of waiting and it’s time for a beer or two or three. I have missed Jimbo’s party (sorry about that big guy) and must now drink Coors Light. After a few cans, it’s long past midnight, they have cut off beer sales, my clothes stink of grease, and I call it a wrap.
Overall, I think that if you like bar tables, this is probably a killer event. It seemed like there was something for everyone: singles, teams, seniors and from a distance, it seemed like the tournaments were well-run affairs. I enjoyed seeing many friends from past events, travels, and adventures. For me, I’m glad I went, but probably won’t return. But I am happy it’s off the Bucket List.
Lou Figueroa
Last edited:
