It may appear to be an insignificant local pool tournament to someone from a big city, but Tyson approaches his every shot as if it was the last match in the U.S. Open 9-ball championship. He is young, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, but his dirt stained and faded cloths show he is no stranger to the hard work of manual labor. His competitor has missed his shot and Tyson walks contemplatively around the pool table planning his attack strategy. His pool stick was the only flashy thing about Tyson's appearance. He was surrounded by the pungent smell of dirt from a day working hard in the woods or fields, his skin shaded from riding in a machine in the sun all day. He rubs his hand across the stubby, untrimmed whiskers covering his face and adjusts his faded, well-worn Las Vegas hat. His vision reaches beyond the easy shot his competitor has set him up for as he crouches down to the table viewing possible shots from multiple angles, visualizing the path of every ball into its respective pocket. There is an intense concentration in his hazel eyes as he sets up for his first shot, and with gentle, precise strokes the solid balls disappear off the table one by one. He leaves only one ball left on the table, the solid purple four ball, he grips his shiny pool cue in his callused hand and points to his target pocket, never taking his gaze off the solid ball. In one fluent motion, the cue ball rolls towards the four ball and nudges it to the target where it taps the edge and rolls to a stop just millimeters right of the pocket. Tyson stares across the room at a blank wall and shakes his head in disgust. He saunters back to his table and as he passes by a fellow competitor, he shoots them a half hearted smile and exclaims "Horrible! That was just horrible!" "you'll get em next week, Tyson", said the man at the table next to him. In a small town such as Fort Collins, where everyone knowns everyone, this man was obviously a friend from the way he patted Tyson on the shoulder. He accepted his loss as he watched his competitor clear their last three balls off the table. He shook the man's hand graciously as he told him, "good match". After loading his shiny cue into his black leather, gold studded bag, he left the bar in defeat. In a small community such as Fort Collins, what may seem like a small goal to some, may equal a big dream to a small town guy like Tyson.
Excellent college observation short pool story
- Thread starter master_cueist
- Start date
Agreed about the paragraph part but I didn't write it, it was written about me. I simply copy and pasted it. My girlfriend wrote it for her English class (without my knowledge I might add) and I actually came across it by mistake today and was pretty impressed.
Please let your girlfriend know she has a VERY impressive style in her writing that really brings the reader into the story!
Now, make sure you take her to dinner one day this week as it seems she definitely has an admiration for you...but make sure you change your clothes and wash your hands after you're done working for the day before you two go out!
Now, make sure you take her to dinner one day this week as it seems she definitely has an admiration for you...but make sure you change your clothes and wash your hands after you're done working for the day before you two go out!
I will let her know that you all enjoyed her story!
a captivating short story and with a great unexpected ending.
Would have been a cooler story if you hadn't missed. 
Would have been a cooler story if you hadn't missed.
Lol, I actually think I remember the game this story stemmed from and if I remember right it was an extremely difficult shot and the part that I thought was "horrible" was leaving myself that horrible shot because I overhit the shot before it to leave myself there.
She doesn't quite seem to believe anybody likes the story so if anybody would feel so inclined her name is Stacy Winstead on facebook...let her personally know what you think.
