Yeah I am sorry.
Here's a good heart story for you.
It was 1989 and I am in Boca Raton at Boca Billiards. I have a couple hundred on me and I end up playing this guy some one pocket and I am getting tortured because I really didn't know how to spell one pocket and I was so stupid that I was giving up weight. The guy beats me out of $150 and I say I want to play nine ball for my last 50. He asks for weight and I am so on tilt that I agree and give him 2 games on the wire going to five. I win the first game and he wins the second and third to go on the hill.
Another guy who I had beaten out of $500 a few weeks before pipes up and says to me I bet $300 you lose. I say yeah genius it takes a lot of heart to bet that from here. I say to the guy I don't have any more money but I will bet my car. I am 30 miles from home.
He asks if I have the title and I say I do - it's a beater that I had bought jsut to have something to run around in before going into the Air Force.
He says BET.
My opponent breaks and the nine ball is heading straight for the pocket and gets kicked away at the last moment. I win that game.
4:2
Next game I break and shoot a few balls and miss and leave him a shot at a combo - he goes for it and rattles the nine. I shoot the nine in 4:3
Then the next game we go back and forth and I win it 4:4
The next game I break and don't run out and he runs a couple and doesn't get out but leaves me tricky. I get down to the nine and it's a long slightly off angle nine ball, the kind that's easy to miss especially under pressure.
I take a long time to pull the trigger. It's 3am and the tournament is over and we are the only ones playing - there are about 15 railbirds sweating the match.
Finally I let the shot go and the nine rattles and then drops.
My friend Frank says, "John I heard your heart beating all the way over here".
The guy I bet the $300 with doesn't want to pay me and threatens to beat me up over it. I go to the pay phone and call the police - I don't know what else to do in this spot and while I am on the phone the guy pays me.
So finally I make it out of the pool room and get in the car and go across the street to a gas station with an self-pay pump. As I am pumping the gas a car pulls up behind me and it's my opponent and his buddy. He walks over and says to me that he want's $150 of the $300 score AND the $50 back we bet in the set. I said why? He says because he dumped.
I said my ass you dumped. I said he tried to win and didn't get there. I reached in my car and pulled our a tire iron and said if you want the money then you'll have to take it because I earned it.
I was really pumped up on adreniline at this point. They backed down and left after muttering some threats.
That's one of my personal "heart" stories. I have a bunch more.
Dave Gross says to me that there is a fine line between heart and stupidity and that I stand right on it. He's right. Most of my heart stories involve going up against the nuts after I got myself stuck. But again the feeling after scoring in that position is out of this world.
Here's a good heart story for you.
It was 1989 and I am in Boca Raton at Boca Billiards. I have a couple hundred on me and I end up playing this guy some one pocket and I am getting tortured because I really didn't know how to spell one pocket and I was so stupid that I was giving up weight. The guy beats me out of $150 and I say I want to play nine ball for my last 50. He asks for weight and I am so on tilt that I agree and give him 2 games on the wire going to five. I win the first game and he wins the second and third to go on the hill.
Another guy who I had beaten out of $500 a few weeks before pipes up and says to me I bet $300 you lose. I say yeah genius it takes a lot of heart to bet that from here. I say to the guy I don't have any more money but I will bet my car. I am 30 miles from home.
He asks if I have the title and I say I do - it's a beater that I had bought jsut to have something to run around in before going into the Air Force.
He says BET.
My opponent breaks and the nine ball is heading straight for the pocket and gets kicked away at the last moment. I win that game.
4:2
Next game I break and shoot a few balls and miss and leave him a shot at a combo - he goes for it and rattles the nine. I shoot the nine in 4:3
Then the next game we go back and forth and I win it 4:4
The next game I break and don't run out and he runs a couple and doesn't get out but leaves me tricky. I get down to the nine and it's a long slightly off angle nine ball, the kind that's easy to miss especially under pressure.
I take a long time to pull the trigger. It's 3am and the tournament is over and we are the only ones playing - there are about 15 railbirds sweating the match.
Finally I let the shot go and the nine rattles and then drops.
My friend Frank says, "John I heard your heart beating all the way over here".
The guy I bet the $300 with doesn't want to pay me and threatens to beat me up over it. I go to the pay phone and call the police - I don't know what else to do in this spot and while I am on the phone the guy pays me.
So finally I make it out of the pool room and get in the car and go across the street to a gas station with an self-pay pump. As I am pumping the gas a car pulls up behind me and it's my opponent and his buddy. He walks over and says to me that he want's $150 of the $300 score AND the $50 back we bet in the set. I said why? He says because he dumped.
I said my ass you dumped. I said he tried to win and didn't get there. I reached in my car and pulled our a tire iron and said if you want the money then you'll have to take it because I earned it.
I was really pumped up on adreniline at this point. They backed down and left after muttering some threats.
That's one of my personal "heart" stories. I have a bunch more.
Dave Gross says to me that there is a fine line between heart and stupidity and that I stand right on it. He's right. Most of my heart stories involve going up against the nuts after I got myself stuck. But again the feeling after scoring in that position is out of this world.
