It is the same as a top notch pool player, playing with a broom, one handed, no chalk, whatever !..If he is good enough, it doesn't really matter what he uses for a cue !..The unwary pigeon CANNOT win !..Roger helped me win a lot of $$$$, using the same theory playing one pocket, with a crooked house cue, sometimes with NO tip.. (ask Bucktooth. :wink
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The following is a true story.
(insert flashback music)
It was a Friday night, back in the early 70's at Town & Country Billiards in Daly City, California. As was my wont, at that period in my callow youth, there I was hitting balls, instead of being out on a date or working on my term paper which was due the following week. But, it was Friday night, the week of school and work was over, I was 19 years old, playing pool, and life was good.
About 10 o'clock, Vince -- a well-known (and well-heeled) mark, walks in the front door of the establishment. Vince was always good for some $5 or $10 9ball, a game I actually played and was semi-proficient at, way back then. As soon as I saw him come in the door, I knew I'd only have a very limited window of opportunity to put him under contract before other, perhaps more enticing (but nonetheless unprofitable for Vince), offers were made by all the usual suspects. And so, with full knowledge that I'd only have one shot at this customer, I opened with what I thought would be a sure-fire automatic deal-closer, "Hey Vince, come on. Let's play some 9ball. You got the eight." Vince didn't miss a beat and shot back, "I ain't playing you with no 8. I want the 6, 7, AND 8 from someone who shoots as straight as you." I instantly knew I had underestimated my man and grossly misplayed my opportunity, so I just weakly rejoined, "Hell! The 6, 7, 8?! I'd play someone with the broomstick with that kind of spot." And then, just like lighting, Vince barked back, "OK. You got the 6, 7, 8, for $20 a game. But you gotta play with the broomstick"
Well. This was a totally unexpected turn of events. The hunter had somehow become the huntee and I was at a sudden loss as to what the appropriate move was. But then, Jerry and Devlin came to my rescue.
Jerry was my wing man on many an adventure. Devlin looked just like Cole Dickson and was just a straight shootin sumbeeatch, about our age, who also hung around. "Play him -- you can win," Devlin said. I was totally not buying it, "Whadda you mean I can win?! Playing with a broomstick?!" Jerry says, "You can do it. Devlin did it against Dennis a few years ago. It's not that tough." Still, I had more than a few doubts. But somehow their complete confidence in our side of the proposition swayed me and I said, "OK. Get the broomstick." I put the eight-point Gina back in its case for the night.
"Hey Stan. We need to borrow your broomstick."
Now for Stan Cleaner, pool hall owner and counter man, this request came as no surprise or shock. He'd seen it all over the years, watching as his teenage charges had grown older, yet no wiser. This was just one more in a long string of inane, nonsensical, nutty things he'd heard from us and so, without much more than a shake of his head, a barely audible sigh, and a slight, bored wave of his hand, he continued reading his paper and said, "It's in the closet."
Stan's broom was standard issue ("Made by the Blind"). Maybe an 1 1/2" diameter blue wood handle and the usual whisks in a tight natural-colored fan pattern. The shape of the end of the handle was actually a pretty good approximation of a regular cue tip, except bigger. *A lot* bigger. "OK, look. You gotta keep it chalked, just like a regular pool cue. Just keep it chalked," Devlin instructed as he sanded the blue enamel off the "tip." I looked at him dubiously.
Vince and I agreed to $20 a game (insert requisite: "That was pretty good action, back then.") Jerry, Devlin, and I quickly formed a consortium, pooling our monies for a grand total of $120. Six barrels. I'd have to come out of the starting blocks fast. The only thing that made this anything less than total lunacy was that Vince was a well-known go-off and if somehow I could prevail, we'd all be on our way on a Vince sponsored excursion to Lake Tahoe, with its siren call of casinos, blackjack tables, and "free" beer, shortly after the conclusion of the match at hand.
We started and right off I could tell: Jerry was right! It wasn't impossible. The hardest part was getting a decent grip on the whisks. And of course you had to play with an open hand bridge. But Vince wasn't that good to begin with and he had a little pooch in him and I'm sure the potential of stories circulating through the pool room -- about him losing to a guy playing with a broomstick -- were floating through his brain.
Vince jars an eight ball. Lou bumps the cue ball towards the eight and wins. Maybe this was not so tough after all.
After about two hours a serious problem began to emerge. It wasn't what was going on on the pool table. I was now getting the hang of it and I was running three, and then four, and the occasional five balls at a time. I was even able to put a little stop shot action on the ball. And, we were now playing for $40 a game. Lou, Jerry, and Devlin, Inc. was up almost $400. The problem was: gripping the broomstick by its whisks the whisks had started to work their way up under my finger nails and my fingers had begun to bleed and started to hurt like hell. Jerry went running behind the counter to get the "Pool Hall Emergency Kit," which consisted entirely of a couple of old Band-Aids and an equally aging bottle of aspirin. We taped up all the fingers on my grip hand and I was good to go.
Well, to cut to the chase, we played into the night and I won just over $800 from Vince (mandatory fine print: "Not a bad score in those days"). To this day, I don't know if the broomstick was conventional or low deflection. All I know is that you can play with a broom stick. But my recommendation is to wear a glove on your grip hand if you're going to do it
Lou Figueroa
