Reminds me of a few years ago in Michigan, where the elixirs were plentiful.
Almost as much as a carnival barker selling magic elixir and swearing it will cure whatever ails you.
Chuck
Yes, almost, although there's no "magic bullet" other than knowledge, practice and the willingness to never stop.....and never give in. This attitude will cure what ails you.
There's nothing better than experience to teach us how attitude plays a part in every role. Playing pool for a living was the ultimate course, especially in the big cities, when times were tough. Sometimes you just had to "STICK" it out until things got better.
I was in Detroit and was struggling, I only had $500. so it was important to get "pumped up" as quick as possible. I was steered to a small bar that the owner played at and was also told he would lose a lot if someone would play with "The Stick".
I walked into the dimly lit bar, taking in the smell of cigarettes, and stale beer as I quickly cased the joint. The bar was on the left side, just past the one bar table, the bar was small with four men sitting around it drinking their favorite "poison". I was dressed to fit in with a camouflage vest, Wolverine boots, a Skoal can visible in my back pocket and a hat that had two pigs "gettin it on" labelled "Makin Bacon".
I went up to that bar and ordered a Bud and made some small talk with one of the regulars. He was dressed much like I was, and after they heard me talk they relaxed knowing I was nothin but a country bumkin kid.
Looking at the pool table I said "I'm a really good pool shot," partly to myself, but loud enough that the four barflies could hear me.
"How good do you shoot, boy, good enough to shoot for a beer?"
I responded "a beer....sh*t I play a whole lot better than that, there's nobody around here that can beat me". This got there attention and they all looked at me closer, a little bit more intently, trying to figure me out.
"The owner'll play ya if ya use "The Stick", ain't nobody ever beat him with 'The Stick".......the other four men laughed an eerie laugh at the same time...."yeah, get the Stick, get the Stick" they all chimed in together.
The Bartender reached up above the bar and pulled down a one piece house cue, only this cue didn't have a tip OR a ferrule, just jagged wood where the tip would normally be. The bartender handed it to me and I pretended to study it intently.
Just then the owner walked in the bar and walked toward us. "this boy wants to play ya with "The Stick"....he thinks he's a pool shooter."
"Wait a minute, I didn't say anything about using this thing, it doesn't even have a tip, how can I even hit the dang cue ball right, hell there's no way to play pool with this piece of crap?"
The owner looked at me, sized me up from head to tow, pausing to chuckle to himself at my two pigs "makin love" on my hat, then said, "I'll spot ya the 6 ball if you use that thing and play ya for $50. a game if you wanna gamble."
I said slowly and thoughtfully "you mean if I make the 6 or the 9 I win and you only win if you make the 9 ball....but I gotta use this crazy stick?"
Yep.....and we can play all night long. I nodded my head "you gotta game, I gotta try just to see what happens."
We started playing and each time I broke the balls pieces of "The Stick" flew on the table and sometimes across the room. I knew I could win at this game, but it suddenly dawned on my I might "run out of stick" before I could "bust" the guy. I must have taken 3 inches off the stick in the next 4 hours, but I played really good with that primitive "stick" and beat the owner 20 games ahead, by grinding the "stick" on the floor between shots and chalking it like a regular cue, before long it was fairly smooth and besides whittling it down it actually played ok......considering.
The owner paid me off with 20 brand new fifty dollar bills and I was on my way, now I had $1500. and I was heading to THE RACK....the big action pool room in Detroit. There a guy could get rich playing pool, there were guys winning and losing millions. I was ready to fire my "match" at their wood pile. I had already overcome "The Stick," what could they have in store for me at THE RACK? Surely nothing a country boy with a "Makin Bacon" hat couldn't deal with.
