Its the same way up here. I would say thats the norm, not the exception.
Thoughts ... Russian Kenny is out of prision
- Thread starter SBC
- Start date
I had my biggest score in many years last year, I won 1500 or so starting at 100 per set. Sets kept going back-up-double-up. It was at a place I was never at before, and I didn't know any of the people. After I'm paid, I'm in the bathroom, and one guy watching the whole thing was in there with me and asks if he can borrow 20. I laugh and say sure! I was cracking up that the bite was put on me, and felt a bit honored.
Username checks out
Kenny in action now. 9 ahead, barbox 9 ball, winner break. Started around 9 or so last night, still going. IDK the bet. Opponent is a 683. Both are local and have known each other and played each other for 25 years. Kenny was at +8 a bunch of times. He's about +2 now.
Years ago I made a big score (42K) at the World Series of Poker. Came in 5th in a big Hold'em event. I got the cash and put it in a Rio gift bag. As I exited the pay window who should I see but Cliff. Where he came from and how he knew I just won the money I have no idea. He greets me with "Congratulations, can I hold 200." I just wanted to get the H out of there and head back to L.A. and had no time for conversation. I reached in the bag and grabbed 200 and handed it to him. He smiled and I walked out to my car (paid a security guard 100 to walk out with me). Drove straight home to L.A. Your money is never safe in Vegas!
You know better than anyone Jay, if you had to guess the over under, what is Cliff's "can I hold" unpaid amount over his lifetime?
He bit me in Indy for a room, food, tournament and a ride, then as I'm walking out of the room, cash.
About forty years ago when I lived in Chicago I met a player named Tommy. I used to run into him at the bars on the west side. He was a pretty decent player who loved to gamble. His special talent was he played extremely well one-handed. He would offer that as a handicap to unwitting victims. One day Tommy called me in a panic. He needed money NOW and asked me to loan him $300 on his Fender Platinum Stratocaster ... which I did. A few weeks later he called and said he found a buyer for the Strat and asked if he could pick it up and when he sold it he would pay me back that same day. Needless to say, Tommy didn't return with my money. A couple of weeks later a guy came up to me in a pool bar and asked if I heard what happened to Tommy. They found him in a dumpster with his throat slit.
"What goes down here, stays here."
just grab their cue stick next time you see them and its yours now unless they pay.
your too easy jay.
besides if they don't pay you can tell them you might be the ref in their next big tournament then it will be too late.
nubby morgan hit me up and even kept it up after i said no. he is number three on the list.
i told him if he ever owed me money he would be called double nubby.
your too easy jay.
besides if they don't pay you can tell them you might be the ref in their next big tournament then it will be too late.
nubby morgan hit me up and even kept it up after i said no. he is number three on the list.
i told him if he ever owed me money he would be called double nubby.
You need to show their "engineer" how to do audio. Did they fix it?
Hope that piece of $hit chokes
Hard to believe a thread can hit 9K, mostly slamming Russian Kenny since his release. If you don't want to read the story, scroll to the bottom and read the words in bold print.
In the spirit of Jay’s and Eric’s fun reads, here’s one of my own, this one from the Capital City Classic in Maryland, the first time I ever met Keith McCready.
Keith and I had just come back inside after a cigarette. He had a friend with him, Larry Lisciotti, who had me laughing all night. Larry, Keith, and I quickly became a trio, and I was having a blast. We step into an elevator and in walks this cocky blond kid who called himself Pistol Pete. He looks straight at Keith and says, “You want to play some 9-ball?” Keith says, “Sure. How do you want to play?” figuring the kid would want a spot. Instead, the kid says, “I know exactly who you are, and I’ll play your ass even for $100 a game.”
Keith was a little light in the pockets, so Larry and I backed him 50-50, and we're off to the table. Keith wins the first game. The kid racks immediately. I'm sweating it intensely. Larry walk over to me, “Did he get paid?” I told him didn’t see any money change hands. Keith wins the second game easy. The kid racks again. Now I’m thinking something is wrong here. Larry trots over to Keith, getting ready to break, and asks where's the cheese. Keith told him the kid’s going to pay him as soon as he gets change. Change? On a $100 game? Larry tells Keith to demand payment after the next rack.
Keith wins the third game. Pistol Pete walks over to his case, packs it up, and slithers fast out of the ballroom like a snake. Larry and I jump up and chase him, Keith right behind us. Out in the lobby, things get heated. Pistol Pete says he doesn’t have any money and there’s nothing we can do about it. Larry looks like he’s ready to kill him. I’m giving him a full verbal beatdown. Keith? Calm as a cucumber.
He listens to the kid, then says quietly, "Look, kid. You shouldn’t do that to people. It’s okay. You can go. Just don’t ever do that again to anybody. You hear?” Larry and I were stunned. I didn’t understand Keith’s reaction then. Anyone else would’ve tarred and feathered the kid. Keith just saw a young guy who wanted to play a real player for the thrill of it, at all costs, even if it meant pulling an air barrel. But that's Keith, all heart. Of course, it wasn't his money either.
Several months later, Pistol Pete had a rude awakening when Keith and I walked in on him gambling with a local action man. He was winner on the late Danny Green by a couple hundred bucks. The game came to an abrupt end when the kid saw me hawking his game. He couldn't hit a ball. So he unscrewed his cue, quit winner, and paid the time, hoping to slither out of the joint with his dough. The house man at the pool room, about 250 pounds and all muscle, heard about the incident between Pistol Pete and Keith, and he quietly asked the kid to step outside. I'll admit, I started to worry the kid was about to get his butt kicked. Instead, a few minutes later, they came back in together. Pistol Pete walked straight over to Keith and handed him half of what he owed. No drama. No lectures. Just another chapter in a long poolroom education.
Of course, there’s a lesson in all of this: Money on the wood makes the betting good. And one of my own hard-earned lessons, one that applies to this thread as well, Never, ever loan anybody money in a pool room. Some lessons cost cash. The good ones stick for life.
In the spirit of Jay’s and Eric’s fun reads, here’s one of my own, this one from the Capital City Classic in Maryland, the first time I ever met Keith McCready.
Keith and I had just come back inside after a cigarette. He had a friend with him, Larry Lisciotti, who had me laughing all night. Larry, Keith, and I quickly became a trio, and I was having a blast. We step into an elevator and in walks this cocky blond kid who called himself Pistol Pete. He looks straight at Keith and says, “You want to play some 9-ball?” Keith says, “Sure. How do you want to play?” figuring the kid would want a spot. Instead, the kid says, “I know exactly who you are, and I’ll play your ass even for $100 a game.”
Keith was a little light in the pockets, so Larry and I backed him 50-50, and we're off to the table. Keith wins the first game. The kid racks immediately. I'm sweating it intensely. Larry walk over to me, “Did he get paid?” I told him didn’t see any money change hands. Keith wins the second game easy. The kid racks again. Now I’m thinking something is wrong here. Larry trots over to Keith, getting ready to break, and asks where's the cheese. Keith told him the kid’s going to pay him as soon as he gets change. Change? On a $100 game? Larry tells Keith to demand payment after the next rack.
Keith wins the third game. Pistol Pete walks over to his case, packs it up, and slithers fast out of the ballroom like a snake. Larry and I jump up and chase him, Keith right behind us. Out in the lobby, things get heated. Pistol Pete says he doesn’t have any money and there’s nothing we can do about it. Larry looks like he’s ready to kill him. I’m giving him a full verbal beatdown. Keith? Calm as a cucumber.
He listens to the kid, then says quietly, "Look, kid. You shouldn’t do that to people. It’s okay. You can go. Just don’t ever do that again to anybody. You hear?” Larry and I were stunned. I didn’t understand Keith’s reaction then. Anyone else would’ve tarred and feathered the kid. Keith just saw a young guy who wanted to play a real player for the thrill of it, at all costs, even if it meant pulling an air barrel. But that's Keith, all heart. Of course, it wasn't his money either.
Several months later, Pistol Pete had a rude awakening when Keith and I walked in on him gambling with a local action man. He was winner on the late Danny Green by a couple hundred bucks. The game came to an abrupt end when the kid saw me hawking his game. He couldn't hit a ball. So he unscrewed his cue, quit winner, and paid the time, hoping to slither out of the joint with his dough. The house man at the pool room, about 250 pounds and all muscle, heard about the incident between Pistol Pete and Keith, and he quietly asked the kid to step outside. I'll admit, I started to worry the kid was about to get his butt kicked. Instead, a few minutes later, they came back in together. Pistol Pete walked straight over to Keith and handed him half of what he owed. No drama. No lectures. Just another chapter in a long poolroom education.
Of course, there’s a lesson in all of this: Money on the wood makes the betting good. And one of my own hard-earned lessons, one that applies to this thread as well, Never, ever loan anybody money in a pool room. Some lessons cost cash. The good ones stick for life.
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First line describes every pro sport!
maybe it teaches his kid to be street smart and not a fool or ninnie as he grows up. that is more important to most of things to learn.
most of the good gamblers i know become very rich and had great families and lives.
and did what they wanted to do every day they woke up, instead of going to a job and saying yes sir or no sir.
most of the good gamblers i know become very rich and had great families and lives.
and did what they wanted to do every day they woke up, instead of going to a job and saying yes sir or no sir.
The Wolverine
Member
I've really enjoyed reading this thread. A question. Why do people still 'lend' Cliff money when they know he won't pay it back? I was wondering why you don't just say no? Is it a pity thing, or does he sort of threaten violence?
You got that right! My last real job was when I was 23. Of course running a large poolroom is a lot of work, but you are the employer, not the employee.
One more on Cliff, who I happen to like very much but he has/had a major gambling problem. I stake him in the U.S. Bar Table Championships; travel money, free room, food allowance daily and paid entry fees. Probably cost me less than a thousand all told back then. He wins both divisions for 5K each plus the $1,000 bonus for winning both. 11K Total. I feel generous, take nothing off the top and split it 50-50 with him. We go down to the cage to get the money and maybe ten guys are following us. I ask Cliff "What's all this?" He says he owed all of them 100 each! He had been borrowing money to take a shot at the dice every night.
So we get the money and he pays all these guys but still has maybe $4,500 left. I go to my room and advise him to do the same. About 2 AM there's a knock on my door. It's Cliff, "Can I borrow some money?" WTF! He said he had some bad luck in the casino and just needed 300. Can I give it to him? I'm too sleepy to argue and hand him the money. An hour later, knock knock again. Guess who? Now he wants 300 more to buy a ticket to get back home to Atlanta. This time I tell him to let me hold your cue. It's a sweet hitting Meucci. He gives me the cue and I give him another 300. I find out later he lost that money too and ended up taking a bus home. He never bailed out the cue and I finally sold it for 300 a couple of years later.
I have some stories involving well known players who begged, borrowed and literally stole money from me. But these will go with me to my grave. In the end my conclusion was that I'd rather be on my end of it then theirs.
I cannot fault Cliff too much. We made money together when he was in his prime. He just couldn't hold onto his end.
Yes, I am. Everybody deserves a second chance. He served his time for whatever the crime, and now he’s back in circulation. If he does it again, then fair enough, criticism is warranted. But bashing someone fresh out of prison helps no one.
This is just my opinion, and I know not everyone agrees. There’s so much hate in the world right now, especially here in the U.S. Maybe it’s time we showed a little more grace to our fellow man, which today, sadly, is extremely rare in a culture that rewards outrage and shaming.