Maddest ever?
- Thread starter Michael Andros
- Start date
They’re not going to, because they’re too busy talking about throwing javelins and cracking sticks. I don’t think people realize how serious this question is in fantasy AZbilliards land.
I’ve seen at least five people javelin their cue, a few throw the cueball, and two people have broken their cue over their knee after losing to me, while another went to the parking lot and bashed his cue over and over on the asphalt in plain sight. None of those compare to people who get “the maddest” over a pool game.
Unfortunately, our sport brings about enough testosterone that bar room brawls are ignited because of pool games. And they carry outside. And people get killed.
Or we can talk about somebody that got so mad that he threw his stick in the trash and chewed a paper knapkin. That would keep the topic fun.
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Hell yeah! Fabio Petroni.
one and two...
First one was in a pool hall in Hawaii, I forget the name, (not Brian's)... me and a buddy are playing straight pool near the end of the room... this big dude has a complete meltdown (jawed a 9), picks up the 9 ball, and throws it like Kershaw 100mph right down the center of the room, whistling by us, right through the glass door to the parking lot, shards of glass everywhere. I'll never forget that sound!
Second meltdown might be Earl at the Bonus Ball? The video's on Youtube... basically the guy he's arguing with (?) just says let's step outside RIGHT NOW.. Earl dropping his cues... jaw jaw jaw, nothing happened.
First one was in a pool hall in Hawaii, I forget the name, (not Brian's)... me and a buddy are playing straight pool near the end of the room... this big dude has a complete meltdown (jawed a 9), picks up the 9 ball, and throws it like Kershaw 100mph right down the center of the room, whistling by us, right through the glass door to the parking lot, shards of glass everywhere. I'll never forget that sound!
Second meltdown might be Earl at the Bonus Ball? The video's on Youtube... basically the guy he's arguing with (?) just says let's step outside RIGHT NOW.. Earl dropping his cues... jaw jaw jaw, nothing happened.
Well, I'm asking!
I believe the implication was death. You want details?
I interpreted it differently. Sorta like some folks will "interpret" the hit of a cue, or the attractiveness of women differently. I certainly hope none of the replies in this thread causes you anxiety.
Yes, two guys at what ended up being my home bar, my first league team (neither was on my team). They played, tempers flared, they stepped outside, and one ended up dead. I didn’t see it, so it didn’t realllg count as “maddest I’ve ever seen.”
But I am shocked more people haven’t reported a time when the fights erupted over a pool game. I know of another bar very well besides this story that a man got killed over a pool game.
Playing chess with the owner of a pool room who was a heavyset man with a fiery temper. It was on a cheap chess set with the folding cardboard chess board. I'd beaten him a number of games for $5 a game, no big deal, but he hated to lose.
Finally one game he had me. He had landed some type of fork and was material up closing in on the end game. It was a totally lost position and I was approaching resignation. But I decided to play on a few more moves and try for a swindle. I tried to coordinate my pieces and create threats in a desperate attempt to line up some tactics.
And it worked. Unbelievably he totally overlooked a very transparent discovery attack and once I moved my piece and created the double threat he realized he had blundered. Tension mounted with each passing second as the dawning realization set in that his winning position had been cracked. I half held my breath apprehensively wondering what would come next.
He turned bright red, cursed loudly, and flung the pieces off the board! He then jumped up on the counter, no small feat considering his size. He put his foot on one half of the chess board and then using his hands tore the board in half. He hopped back off the counter and proceeded to gather both halves of the board and all the pieces up and stuff them in the garbage at the end of the counter.
He came and sat back down, huffing a little with the exertion of the destructive efforts. I thought it was over. But he was still tilted, and I saw him look over at the garbage can a couple of times. Finally he jumped back up, walked over to the garbage bin, pulled out the trash bag, went outside and stuffed the bag in the dumpster.
Something about the fact the very presence of the destroyed set still being within the walls of his pool room tilted him had me cracking up.
Finally one game he had me. He had landed some type of fork and was material up closing in on the end game. It was a totally lost position and I was approaching resignation. But I decided to play on a few more moves and try for a swindle. I tried to coordinate my pieces and create threats in a desperate attempt to line up some tactics.
And it worked. Unbelievably he totally overlooked a very transparent discovery attack and once I moved my piece and created the double threat he realized he had blundered. Tension mounted with each passing second as the dawning realization set in that his winning position had been cracked. I half held my breath apprehensively wondering what would come next.
He turned bright red, cursed loudly, and flung the pieces off the board! He then jumped up on the counter, no small feat considering his size. He put his foot on one half of the chess board and then using his hands tore the board in half. He hopped back off the counter and proceeded to gather both halves of the board and all the pieces up and stuff them in the garbage at the end of the counter.
He came and sat back down, huffing a little with the exertion of the destructive efforts. I thought it was over. But he was still tilted, and I saw him look over at the garbage can a couple of times. Finally he jumped back up, walked over to the garbage bin, pulled out the trash bag, went outside and stuffed the bag in the dumpster.
Something about the fact the very presence of the destroyed set still being within the walls of his pool room tilted him had me cracking up.
Playing chess with the owner of a pool room who was a heavyset man with a fiery temper. It was on a cheap chess set with the folding cardboard chess board. I'd beaten him a number of games for $5 a game, no big deal, but he hated to lose.
Finally one game he had me. He had landed some type of fork and was material up closing in on the end game. It was a totally lost position and I was approaching resignation. But I decided to play on a few more moves and try for a swindle. I tried to coordinate my pieces and create threats in a desperate attempt to line up some tactics.
And it worked. Unbelievably he totally overlooked a very transparent discovery attack and once I moved my piece and created the double threat he realized he had blundered. Tension mounted with each passing second as the dawning realization set in that his winning position had been cracked. I half held my breath apprehensively wondering what would come next.
He turned bright red, cursed loudly, and flung the pieces off the board! He then jumped up on the counter, no small feat considering his size. He put his foot on one half of the chess board and then using his hands tore the board in half. He hopped back off the counter and proceeded to gather both halves of the board and all the pieces up and stuff them in the garbage at the end of the counter.
He came and sat back down, huffing a little with the exertion of the destructive efforts. I thought it was over. But he was still tilted, and I saw him look over at the garbage can a couple of times. Finally he jumped back up, walked over to the garbage bin, pulled out the trash bag, went outside and stuffed the bag in the dumpster.
Something about the fact the very presence of the destroyed set still being within the walls of his pool room tilted him had me cracking up.
Great story, Tin Man... thanks for adding it.
Thank you Michael! It was fun to witness. I'll share one more with the same main character. By the way- he's a good guy that I really like, just lost his cool once in a while.
It was 1996 or so and Predator had just come out with the first low deflection shaft. The pool room owner was a dealer and got the first one. Predator shaft and butt, a $1,500 cue. He was so proud of it and wouldn't stop talking about 20% more spin, more accuracy, yadda yadda yadda. Of course everyone else thought that it was snake oil, so to be fair we were all dead wrong as now LD is here to stay. But back then we thought he was mad as a hatter. He would keep showing us how stiff the shaft was, how it wouldn't bend. Look, it's stiff, it doesn't vibrate, it doesn't give at all, and so on...
Around this time I was 17 years old and was playing pretty sporty. We'd matched up on the big tables and I never lost even giving up a little weight. I'd usually clip him for a set or two for $20. But up until this point in my life I'd never played on a bar table. OK, maybe a dozen games over the years. At this point though I couldn't go to the bars, and there weren't any bar tables in the pool rooms I visited. Oh, how times have changed.
The room owner was an accomplished bar table player that had played competitive national league tournaments for years. He decided to clear out a couple of the 9 footers and put in 4 bar tables so he could run some tournaments and cater to more players. Once they were set up he decided it was time to get some payback, so he asked me if I wanted to play some $10 bar box 8 ball. I was happy to try it out.
Things didn't go the way he wanted. While I was new to the 7 footers I had grown up playing straight pool, so pattern play didn't seem particularly complex. And compared to big table 9 ball the execution part was easy. I started peeling off rack after rack and tallying up games like crazy. Of course he got more and more frustrated and fumbled the few opportunities he had. In a matter of an hour I had won nine straight games and was up $90.
That's when it happened. I came up dry and he got to the table. He studied the layout for a while, circling and calculating with renewed determination. It was clear he was absolutely not allow me to skunk him ten ahead. He began picking his way through the rack, displaying the considerable prowess reflective of his credentials. All of his problem balls were quickly attacked and dispatched, until he had nothing but a few ducks left. He pocketed them and fell perfectly for an easy stop shot on the 8 ball into the gaping valley corner pocket.
Pool is a funny game I guess, because how he dogged that ball I'll never know. It was a head scratcher. Somehow he must have rushed or jerked or something because that 8 ball rattled out of that pocket and came spitting back out towards the middle of the table, leaving me dead out.
Now before I go further it's important to take a moment and explain the type of ceiling we had at that pool hall. It was one of those with artificial ceiling panels which rested on top of a criss-crossing metal grid.
OK, back to the dogged 8 ball. As you can imagine he was none too happy with his miss, and issuing a cry like a karate master he swung his cue straight over his head! It's likely that he miscalculated what adding 57" to his height totals because the room dimensions didn't quite allow for that type of endeavor. His tip hit the ceiling and knocked a panel out of place. His cue continued to swing until it came into contact with the metal support grid, at which point his cue broke into two pieces.
But wouldn't you know it?!? His cue didn't break at the joint. Nor did his shaft break. The cue broke in the middle of the butt, right where the wrap ends! That's incredible! I've never seen a cue break there before! As I collected the $100 I consoled him by telling him that he had made me a believer in the stiffness of the low deflection shafts...
It was 1996 or so and Predator had just come out with the first low deflection shaft. The pool room owner was a dealer and got the first one. Predator shaft and butt, a $1,500 cue. He was so proud of it and wouldn't stop talking about 20% more spin, more accuracy, yadda yadda yadda. Of course everyone else thought that it was snake oil, so to be fair we were all dead wrong as now LD is here to stay. But back then we thought he was mad as a hatter. He would keep showing us how stiff the shaft was, how it wouldn't bend. Look, it's stiff, it doesn't vibrate, it doesn't give at all, and so on...
Around this time I was 17 years old and was playing pretty sporty. We'd matched up on the big tables and I never lost even giving up a little weight. I'd usually clip him for a set or two for $20. But up until this point in my life I'd never played on a bar table. OK, maybe a dozen games over the years. At this point though I couldn't go to the bars, and there weren't any bar tables in the pool rooms I visited. Oh, how times have changed.
The room owner was an accomplished bar table player that had played competitive national league tournaments for years. He decided to clear out a couple of the 9 footers and put in 4 bar tables so he could run some tournaments and cater to more players. Once they were set up he decided it was time to get some payback, so he asked me if I wanted to play some $10 bar box 8 ball. I was happy to try it out.
Things didn't go the way he wanted. While I was new to the 7 footers I had grown up playing straight pool, so pattern play didn't seem particularly complex. And compared to big table 9 ball the execution part was easy. I started peeling off rack after rack and tallying up games like crazy. Of course he got more and more frustrated and fumbled the few opportunities he had. In a matter of an hour I had won nine straight games and was up $90.
That's when it happened. I came up dry and he got to the table. He studied the layout for a while, circling and calculating with renewed determination. It was clear he was absolutely not allow me to skunk him ten ahead. He began picking his way through the rack, displaying the considerable prowess reflective of his credentials. All of his problem balls were quickly attacked and dispatched, until he had nothing but a few ducks left. He pocketed them and fell perfectly for an easy stop shot on the 8 ball into the gaping valley corner pocket.
Pool is a funny game I guess, because how he dogged that ball I'll never know. It was a head scratcher. Somehow he must have rushed or jerked or something because that 8 ball rattled out of that pocket and came spitting back out towards the middle of the table, leaving me dead out.
Now before I go further it's important to take a moment and explain the type of ceiling we had at that pool hall. It was one of those with artificial ceiling panels which rested on top of a criss-crossing metal grid.
OK, back to the dogged 8 ball. As you can imagine he was none too happy with his miss, and issuing a cry like a karate master he swung his cue straight over his head! It's likely that he miscalculated what adding 57" to his height totals because the room dimensions didn't quite allow for that type of endeavor. His tip hit the ceiling and knocked a panel out of place. His cue continued to swing until it came into contact with the metal support grid, at which point his cue broke into two pieces.
But wouldn't you know it?!? His cue didn't break at the joint. Nor did his shaft break. The cue broke in the middle of the butt, right where the wrap ends! That's incredible! I've never seen a cue break there before! As I collected the $100 I consoled him by telling him that he had made me a believer in the stiffness of the low deflection shafts...
another great story, TM.
I'm, I guess, pretty old school ( which can be read as "dumb" or, "I'm not changing, regardless of whether it's good for me or not ) when it comes to pool. I HATE low deflect shafts. Hate 'em. Wouldn't use one at gunpoint. Plus, I've heard some world class players say that, after using them for some period of time, they're going back to non-LD shafts. I guess it's somewhat like digital as opposed to analog ( cd vs vinyl ), in that, after all these years, people in the music biz are finding out there's just that certain something vinyl brings to the table that digital can't match... who really knows. I just know I hate LD shafts.
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Here's one I hadn't thought about in many years:
8' bar box in, of course, a bar, The Corner Pub, playing a Johnny Miller clone ( crisply creased slacks, golf polo shirt, Johnny Miller hair cut, overly-tan ) 8 ball for 10 a pop. He's playing with a medium-priced Meucci and plays maybe 2 balls under me. We've never seen each other before. I have him @ 150 stuck. He's annoyed but not being an a**hole. Just more and more annoyed as time goes by.
I break, run out but hook myself on my last stripe behind a group of his balls. So I masse ( and not just a regular old "cue at a 45 degree angle" masse, but a Mosconi-left-hand-bridge-on-hip-cue-perfectly-vertical masse." ) around his balls, make my last stripe, cue wanders to the end rail on a string, straight in on the 8 ball. Before I can even shoot it, he tosses his cue, shaft first, down the length of the table. Almost in slow motion, the end of the shaft wedges in under the rail between the far two corner pockets... and snaps in half.
He just looks at it, laying on the table in two pieces...
"Im done..."
And I'm like, yeah... I don't blame you.
Ah, memories.
8' bar box in, of course, a bar, The Corner Pub, playing a Johnny Miller clone ( crisply creased slacks, golf polo shirt, Johnny Miller hair cut, overly-tan ) 8 ball for 10 a pop. He's playing with a medium-priced Meucci and plays maybe 2 balls under me. We've never seen each other before. I have him @ 150 stuck. He's annoyed but not being an a**hole. Just more and more annoyed as time goes by.
I break, run out but hook myself on my last stripe behind a group of his balls. So I masse ( and not just a regular old "cue at a 45 degree angle" masse, but a Mosconi-left-hand-bridge-on-hip-cue-perfectly-vertical masse." ) around his balls, make my last stripe, cue wanders to the end rail on a string, straight in on the 8 ball. Before I can even shoot it, he tosses his cue, shaft first, down the length of the table. Almost in slow motion, the end of the shaft wedges in under the rail between the far two corner pockets... and snaps in half.
He just looks at it, laying on the table in two pieces...
"Im done..."
And I'm like, yeah... I don't blame you.
Ah, memories.
I was gonna say this one. Was there that year too but I didn't witness it.