OK, most of us are just amateurs having fun playing a game that is rather difficult to master so let's hear about your personal story of playing with a Pro Player.
As we all know playing a professional player isn't always sunshine, fine food, wine, women/men and song.
I may have told this story in the forums or not. It's been a while since I thought about it but it was one of my more humbling experiences.
I'm playing out of Pickles Sports Bar in Jefferson, LA and they had just purchased the new Diamond tables from one of Grady Mathew's "Legends of One Pocket". They were 9 foot beauties with very tight pockets and I was kind of dialed in on them. This is probably 10 years ago or so.
One evening, a guy shows up out of nowhere. Tall, young, lean-looking guy, kind of looked like those East Germany athletes from years ago. I note that he isn't with anyone, just by himself. I've never seen him before and I can see he's asking around and finally he comes over to me and concisely says, "You want to play some 9 ball for a couple of hundred?" Common sense told me that this guy could play, so I told him, "Well, it's obvious that you are a road player, so what kind of spot are you offering?" He says "8 ball", and I'm warmed up, playing good and I say "No, I will take the wild 6, racing to 9" thinking he won't dare give me that spot. He then quickly say "OK.". I'm concerned now because he's not talking much and was quick to give in to my request for the 6 ball. I hear a slight accent but don't pay it much attention. He's not Filipino for sure so what do I have to worry about?
We post the money on the light and we begin to play.
They guy isn't saying much of anything and I'm playing very good at least for my level of play. I don't remember him saying anything which is the way I like it anyway. I've got him stuck 6-3 and I can smell the finish line and have all the confidence of a winner. My stroke is smooth, long and straight. I feel like I am dancing around the table. Everything is going perfect for me. I'm getting the rolls, I'm shooting very good. He isn't doing so well. He then walks up real close to me and says in a low, monotone voice, "You play like a machine." I nodand to myself, I'm like, YEAH, I'm playing like a machine, grinning wildly inside, knowing that I've got this cheese.
The guy starts making balls from everywhere, when he misses I'm kicking and not able to hit the object ball. He's getting cue in hand on virtually every shot when I kick at a ball. Now he's closing the gap and I'm not liking it at all but still my confidence is high. The score is 6-5 and I feel like I am still stealing. Before long, the score is 7-6, his way. I'm pissed at myself for losing the lead but steady myself to find a way to win. I win the next game making it 7-7. He wins the next two games takes my two hundred off of the light and walks out never to be seen again, that is until I see him at one of the big tournaments maybe a year later. It was probably the Derby City Classic and I walked up to him and introduced myself not knowing if he would remember me. He said he was indeed traveling by himself across the country and remembered playing me. This was one of his few gambling trips that Niels made here in the U.S. Yep, old JoeyA, slick as goose pate, matching up with a European champion at 9 ball.
Things don't always go well when you play a champion but they are always memorable. I've got a story or two about coming out on top, but I'm interested in hearing YOURS.
As we all know playing a professional player isn't always sunshine, fine food, wine, women/men and song.
I may have told this story in the forums or not. It's been a while since I thought about it but it was one of my more humbling experiences.
I'm playing out of Pickles Sports Bar in Jefferson, LA and they had just purchased the new Diamond tables from one of Grady Mathew's "Legends of One Pocket". They were 9 foot beauties with very tight pockets and I was kind of dialed in on them. This is probably 10 years ago or so.
One evening, a guy shows up out of nowhere. Tall, young, lean-looking guy, kind of looked like those East Germany athletes from years ago. I note that he isn't with anyone, just by himself. I've never seen him before and I can see he's asking around and finally he comes over to me and concisely says, "You want to play some 9 ball for a couple of hundred?" Common sense told me that this guy could play, so I told him, "Well, it's obvious that you are a road player, so what kind of spot are you offering?" He says "8 ball", and I'm warmed up, playing good and I say "No, I will take the wild 6, racing to 9" thinking he won't dare give me that spot. He then quickly say "OK.". I'm concerned now because he's not talking much and was quick to give in to my request for the 6 ball. I hear a slight accent but don't pay it much attention. He's not Filipino for sure so what do I have to worry about?
We post the money on the light and we begin to play. They guy isn't saying much of anything and I'm playing very good at least for my level of play. I don't remember him saying anything which is the way I like it anyway. I've got him stuck 6-3 and I can smell the finish line and have all the confidence of a winner. My stroke is smooth, long and straight. I feel like I am dancing around the table. Everything is going perfect for me. I'm getting the rolls, I'm shooting very good. He isn't doing so well. He then walks up real close to me and says in a low, monotone voice, "You play like a machine." I nodand to myself, I'm like, YEAH, I'm playing like a machine, grinning wildly inside, knowing that I've got this cheese.
The guy starts making balls from everywhere, when he misses I'm kicking and not able to hit the object ball. He's getting cue in hand on virtually every shot when I kick at a ball. Now he's closing the gap and I'm not liking it at all but still my confidence is high. The score is 6-5 and I feel like I am still stealing. Before long, the score is 7-6, his way. I'm pissed at myself for losing the lead but steady myself to find a way to win. I win the next game making it 7-7. He wins the next two games takes my two hundred off of the light and walks out never to be seen again, that is until I see him at one of the big tournaments maybe a year later. It was probably the Derby City Classic and I walked up to him and introduced myself not knowing if he would remember me. He said he was indeed traveling by himself across the country and remembered playing me. This was one of his few gambling trips that Niels made here in the U.S. Yep, old JoeyA, slick as goose pate, matching up with a European champion at 9 ball.
Things don't always go well when you play a champion but they are always memorable. I've got a story or two about coming out on top, but I'm interested in hearing YOURS.
