A Story Thread

ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
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Silver Member
Nice!

Great Story DJ! Yep, hinged cue sticks were always a pretty good sign they would part with a little money if you massaged things right.

PT, yeah, seasoned gamblers get an instinct as much as anything else. An older road player watched me three days where I didn't show any real speed on the table, never made a fancy shot, then he decided he would rather talk than play!

Danny Medina busted me a lot faster. He had paper on me and came looking for me. We started on a bar table cheap, only two bar tables in the place. He introduced himself with a front and back name, kinda unusual but whatever. I told him I was Hu, we shook hands and started play. First three games of barbox eightball he insisted I win. I was kinda annoyed, I didn't need to be hustled for somebody to get action to at least a hundred a game. Next game, he had three balls left, all less than a foot from a pocket and all of them at easy angles. Ray Charles could have ran that table out and he is dead and blind! I hit the eight ball hard and parked it in the jaws of another pocket.

He bent over to shoot and I'm looking at him thinking, OK jackass, lets see you get out of winning this game! About that time he looked up and our eyes met. He ran out and I racked for the next game. He bent over to break, then straightened up. He motioned me over, "I am a road player from Vegas named Danny Medina. Let's cut the crap and play pool!" We did. We laughed, we joked, but there wasn't any joke on the pool table. Four to six hours went by and by the time we finished we were both friends. He wanted me to join him on the road. It was tempting, very tempting. Danny was a young lion then, before his troubles. I had a good local gig though and I finally threw his number away so I wasn't too tempted one day.

Never really hit the road, a few days to a few weeks maximum. However, anybody that came through the door could get played even. No internet, no cell phones, and as Danny realized I didn't give a rat's ass who anybody was anyway.

Hitting balls on my back porch on an old bar table. Nothing else to do, I'm having to isolate a few weeks. A very little under the the weather. I don't think it is Covid but if it is I can't pass it on to other people. Even if your case is mild the virus is the same and can kill somebody you give it to. Can't take that risk when I know it is out there. At least one case within ten miles of me. I'm home and grumpy. If it wasn't for the virus I could be somewhere else and grumpy!

Hu
 
djoverboard

djoverboard

Registered
Thanks Hu,
I have a few stories, most similar to that one. when I have a few minutes I will post my favorite it involves beating a former NBA star.
 
djoverboard

djoverboard

Registered
The NBA all star

This is my favorite story to tell and even all these years later. some facts may get lost or grow bigger over the years but the story is true as best i remember it. It's not my favorite because it was the biggest score ( though it could have, should have, would have) but because of pride ego and all the other reasons people strive to win and be great or at least really good at this game.

I was houseman at Hippodrome Billiards academy on Main St. Buffalo, NY. I was in process of becoming more proficient at the game i loved pool more specifically straight pool. I had been taken as apprentice if you will by one of the local players Mr. Wood. At this point in my tutelage he would spot 100 to 50. We would do this at the end of the night before closing up. He Usually beat me pretty soundly not by running 50's 60's or 100 and out but by running a rack or two and if he got in a tough spot simply putting me in jail. I would have to earn every ball hopefully by returning a great safety or come with a real strong shot, maybe find something in the stack that was dead.

This night I was in stroke. I don't recall any big run but i was playing strong. I beat him that night even he didn't get 50 before I had. It could have been he had an off night but i knew how my arm and my head were in stroke. When you start to forget your arm and the cue exist, like you are moving whitey with your mind.

Leaving the room that Wednesday night i often enough would go around the corner the bar i DJ'd at on the weekends. Wednesday night i might get some light action or a game of three all with the owner, and some other would gangster and drug dealer types. I walked through the door in my jeans and ratty sweat shirt heading to the back of the long bar where the few patrons were around the pool tale and at the " players" corner of the bar, that space where the people who are regulars or wanne be somebodies like to congregate.

My eye caught one patron in particular a tall well dressed black guy. Clearly he was somebody or at least thought he was. I didn't recognize him but he had a way he carried himself hat made the point. He had a cue in hand and was playing one of the regulars. I said my hellos, ordered a beer and of course got a dollars worth of quarters to put a quarter up to play pool. a few shots later the game was over and i was up.The well dressed guy had won and he had shot pretty decent.

I don't recall if I broke or He broke but on my turn i ran out to the eight ball. I got a bit out of line on the 8 leaving my self about as long and thin cut as you can on a bar table. I stoke the ball just missing the 8 but the cue ball was loose and found a pcket to scratch in. I say good game , . My opponent immediately says no we are going to play it out seemingly offended by me running out but scratching on the 8. He proceeded to make a ball or two and missed I then pocketed the easy eight.

Some light smack talk started at that point the idea being he was better than me and he wanted another chance at me. meanwhile some one else had put quarters in to play I told him he'd have to wait his turn. now I was starting to see this guy truly become a mark. My new opponent racked the balls and i knew what i was going to do. I immediately start playing opposite handed and even missing shots intentionally playing barely enough to win. The well dressed guy watching the whole time stewing while this game dragged on and on. I win that game and remind him he's up.

Again we play and I beat him nothing fancy I may have even shot opposite handed some of that game. . Now I can see he's starting to steam pretty good and after only two games. He again starts in with how he's better than me yadda yadda.....I say we can play again.... he says ok lets play for $50. I probably had $30 in my pocket and a few grand in the bank at that time. I walk over to the charlie owner of the bar and say spot me $50 this guy wants to play we'll split any winnings . The owner says do you know who that is ? i state no i just know he's about to lose some money. That's CR. like I said Charlie i just know he's about to lose some money. Now here i will say that CR could play pretty well and all things being equal on a bar table at that time he probably wins maybe 2 out of 10 against me. So on one game it wasn't a lock but darn close.

We agree to the bet and start playing. We each have a turn or two and I make an unexpected error and miss a relatively easy shot. He runs the the rest of his balls and has a small cut to the side pocket on the 8. Now there were probably only 10 people in the bar but everyone is watching this. CR proceeds to go into a victory dance around the table before shooting this basic shot. You would have thought he just slam dunked over the top of MJ. I'm leaning against the wall next to a friend and whisper he's going to miss this shot . I have this thought for a couple reasons, his premature celebration and the fact that i know there is a pretty roll on this side of the table away from that pocket to the foot rail. when he's done dancing he finally lines up pulls the trigger and misses after showing his ass.

I step up and run the rest of the table easy peezy $50 dollars please. He turns and says your bet was him him...pointing to one of his buddies. "my bet was with you" I say there is some back and forth with them refusing to pay. A million dollar athlete refusing to pay off a $50 dollar bet in a bar so am talking smack for sure. I'm thinking you asshole but I just say that's fine you don't want to pay what ever you can't beat me. This gets him going again. He says lets play for $100. I tell Charlie my backer lets play him for $100 but everyone puts the money up. Charlie does't like it says he should pay the$50. I tel him don't worry we got him where we want him.

I beat him three times for the $100. Boy is he steaming now,and still trying to talk smack "you cant beat me " he says and I am talking smack right back which is only infuriating him. I say you can't beat me you haven't won a game yet. He fires out with lets play for a $1000. Now as I mentioned I have a few grand in the bank. The bank machine at the time probably was limiting withdrawals to like $300 a day ( anyone else remember that).

I go to my backer and say go to the safe get the rest of the cash if i lose I'll pay you off tomorrow, lets get him. 'He won't win he's too far over the edge at this point he's already shown his ass in here and lost. He's done " i have the owner and bar managers ear i say we split 3 ways and take him down. Unfortunately they were nervous they had seen him almost win one game and I couldn't get them to pony up. I go back to him and say I'll play you for $500 or we can play $100 a game all night and maybe I lose $1000 but i cant play for $1000. Now he starts talking smack again I'm afraid etc meanwhile refusing to continue at $100 and refusing the $500 game.

He was probably thankful we didn't put the $1000 together it gave him the chance to talk smack and say i was afraid when all he was doing was high balling us hoping we wouldn't come up with the $1000 That's how the big score got away the kind hustlers live for a guy with a big bank roll and even bigger ego and I had him right where I wanted him...... coulda shoulda woulda........ or maybe he was setting me up ? The world will never know but I had a blast that night.
 
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Black-Balled

Black-Balled

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Space it out, man!

You might have some gold in there but it is really hard to read a wall of text.

djoverboard said:
This is my favorite story to tell and even all these years later. some facts may get lost or grow bigger over the years but the story is true as best i remember it. It's not my favorite because it was the biggest score ( though it could have, should have, would have) but because of pride ego and all the other reasons people strive to win and be great or at least really good at this game.

I was houseman at Hippodrome Billiards academy on Main St. Buffalo, NY. I was in process of becoming more proficient at the game i loved pool more specifically straight pool. I had been taken as apprentice if you will by one of the local players Mr. Wood. At this point in my tutelage he would spot 100 to 50. We would do this at the end of the night before closing up. He Usually beat me pretty soundly not by running 50's 60's or 100 and out but by running a rack or two and if he got in a tough spot simply putting me in jail. I would have to earn every ball hopefully by returning a great safety or come with a real strong shot, maybe find something in the stack that was dead.

This night I was in stroke. i don't recall any big run but i was playing strong. i beat him that night even he didnt get 50 before I had. It could have been he had an off night but i knew how my arm and my head were in stroke. When you start to forget your arm and the cue exist, like you are moving whitey with your mind.

Leaving the room that Wednesday night i often enough would go around the corner the bar i DJ'd at on the weekends. Wednesday night i might get some light action or a game of three all with the owner, and some other would gangster and drug dealer types. I walked through the door in my jeans and ratty sweat shirt heading to the back of the long bar where the few patrons were around the pool tale and at the " players" corner of the bar, that space where the people who are regulars or wanne be somebodies like to congregate.

My eye caught one patron in particular a tall well dressed black guy. Clearly he was somebody or at least thought he was. I didn't recognize him but he had a way he carried himself hat made the point. He had a cue in hand and was playing one of the regulars. I said my hellos, ordered a beer and of course got a dollars worth of quarters to put a quarter up to play pool. a few shots later the game was over and i was up.The well dressed guy had won and he had shot pretty decent.

I don't recall if I broke or He broke but on my turn i ran out to the eight ball. I got a bit out of line on the 8 leaving my self about as long and thin cut as you can on a bar table. I stoke the ball just missing the 8 but the cue ball was loose and found a pcket to scratch in. I say good game , . My opponent immediately says no we are going to play it out seemingly offended by me running out but scratching on the 8. He proceeded to make a ball or two and missed I then pocketed the easy eight.

Some light smack talk started at that point the idea being he was better than me and he wanted another chance at me. meanwhile some one else had put quarters in to play I told him he'd have to wait his turn. now I was starting to see this guy truly become a mark. My new opponent racked the balls and i knew what i was going to do. I immediately start playing opposite handed and even missing shots intentionally playing barely enough to win. The well dressed guy watching the whole time stewing while this game dragged on and on. I win that game and remind him he's up. Again we play and i beat him nothing fancy i may have even shot opposite handed some of that game.

. Now i can see he's starting to steam pretty good and after only two games. he again starts in with how he's better than me yadda yadda.....I say we can play again.... he says ok lets play for $50. I probably had $30 in my pocket and a few grand in the bank at that time. I walk over to the charlie owner of the bar and say spot me $50 this guy wants to play we'll split any winnings . The owner says do you know who that is ? i state no i just know he's about to lose some money. That's CR. like I said Charlie i just know he's about to lose some money.


Now here i will say that CR could play pretty well and all things being equal on a bar table at that time he probably wins maybe 2 out of 10 against me. So on one game it wasn't a lock but darn close. We agree to the bet and start playing. We each have a turn or two and I make an unexpected error and miss a relatively easy shot. He runs the the rest of his balls and has a small cut to the side pocket on the 8. Now there were probably only 10 people in the bar but everyone is watching this. CR proceeds to go into a victory dance around the table before shooting this basic shot. You would have thought he just slam dunked over the top of MJ.

I'm leaning against the wall next to a friend and whisper he's going to miss this shot . I have this thought for a couple reasons, his premature celebration and the fact that i know there is a pretty roll on this side of the table away from that pocket to the foot rail. when he's done dancing he finally lines up pulls the trigger and misses after showing his ass. I step up and run the rest of the table easy peezy $50 dollars please. He turns and says your bet was him him...pointing to one of his buddies. "my bet was with you" I say there is some back and forth with them refusing to pay. A million dollar athlete refusing to pay off a $50 dollar bet in a bar so am talking smack for sure.

I'm thinking you asshole but I just say that's fine you don't want to pay what ever you can't beat me. This gets him going again. He says lets play for $100. I tell Charlie my backer lets play him for $100 but everyone puts the money up. Charlie does't like it says he should pay the$50. I tel him don't worry we got him where we want him. I beat him three times for the $100 Boy is he steaming now and still trying to talk smack "you cant beat me " he says and I am talking smack right back which is only infuriating him. I say you can't beat me you haven't won a game yet. He fires out with lets play for a $1000 now as I mentioned I have a few grand in the bank the bank machine at the time probably was limiting withdrawals to like $300 a day ( anyone else remember that).

I go to my backer and say go to the safe get the rest of the cash if i lose I'll pay you off tomorrow, lets get him. 'He won't win he's too far over the edge at this point he's already shown his ass in here and lost. He's done " i have the owner and bar managers ear i say we split 3 ways and take him down. Unfortunately they were nervous they had seen him almost win one game and I couldn't get them to pony up. I go back to him and say I'll play you for $500 or we can play $100 a game all night and maybe I lose $1000 but i cant play for $1000. Now he starts talking smack again I'm afraid etc meanwhile refusing to continue at $100 and refusing the $500 game.

He was probably thankful we didn't put the $1000 together it gave him the chance to talk smack and say i was afraid when all he was doing was high balling us hoping we wouldn't come up with the $1000 That's how the big score got away the kind hustlers live for a guy with a big bank roll and even bigger ego and I had him right where I wanted him...... coulda shoulda woulda........ or maybe he was setting me up ? The world will never know but I had a blast that night.
Click to expand...
 
djoverboard

djoverboard

Registered
i never said i was a writer but yes i should learn to use paragraphs! thank you for the editing advice !
 
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ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
Great story and I almost missed it somehow!

That is a great story and I almost missed it somehow.

I had an english teacher in the third grade that loved diagramming sentences. The last real grammar teacher I had. Her teaching kept me better than average writing all the things demanded of us all the way through high school. She was a 6'-3" tall penguin with the black habit and the tall headdress they wore. She looked like the north face of a mountain. She had hands the size of boat paddles and when she popped the back of your head with one it was a wake up call. Her other favorite thing was a big ruler or pointer across the knuckles! Sister Mary Elephant didn't have a thing on her. All these years later I can still tell what part of a sentence most words are and do a fair job diagramming a sentence.

Some paragraphs can be a whole page of text and legitimately one paragraph. The one above was getting a little long. I try to write in paragraphs but then I go back and break up long paragraphs for easy reading. It ain't right but people don't complain! Oh yeah, I use a lot of exclamation points too after I sprinkle a handful of commas and periods over my writing. Why? Why not?:grin:

I never tangled with a real high roller on a pool table for better or worse, once but that once doesn't count. Through no real fault of his I got air-barreled, another grudge I have against the federal government! I generally had a good job or business so when people tried to high roll me in bars and pool halls I was more than glad. They backed it down to a hundred or less in a hurry when I didn't blink.

Hu
 
Brookeland Bill

Brookeland Bill

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Go to OnePocket.org. Join. Then read the post by “androd” in the “Journals” section. Great road stories and tales from Parker’s pool room in Houston back in the day.
 
ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
am a member

Brookeland Bill said:
Go to OnePocket.org. Join. Then read the post by “androd” in the “Journals” section. Great road stories and tales from Parker’s pool room in Houston back in the day.
Click to expand...


Thanks! I am a member, long time lurker, occasional poster.

Hu
 
fastone371

fastone371

Certifiable
Silver Member
Keep the stories coming please, very entertaining. Unfortunately I have no stories to add, I have lived a dull life.
 
F

fjk

AzB Silver Member
Silver Member
Young gun

OK, I got one. Maybe not a great one, but it was memorable to me.

It was back in the mid 80s. I was a teenager but played pretty good (I think I ran a 70-something once). The poolroom was really dead and as bad luck would have it, the three best players within a hundred mile radius were there too.

I'm not sure how it happened because I knew those guys and anyone of the three could probably give me the 7. But, I ended up in a $20 ring game. I was a huge underdog in that game but at least I was in action. Also keep in mind that I probably made 3 or 4 dollars an hour at some crappy minimum wage job back then. $20 was a lot of money!

So like you would expect, I'm down $80 and have no realistic chance of getting my money back. I was really stubborn in those days though and would only unscrew when I was out of ammo. Sometimes not even then.

I was in a really bad mood sitting there watching those three guys not miss anything. I'm already planning on going bust and leaving pissed. I would not quit. As I'm sitting there this young guy about my age comes in with some kind of fancy case. I never seen him before and I was at the poolroom all the time. He sits next to me for three of four racks and then asks me if he could get in. I look at him kind of funny because nobody is missing anything. It's very obviously a bad game to be in. I tell him we're gambling. He said "I don't care". I said we're playing for $20. He said that's fine.

So I sit there thinking. I already made up my mind to only quit when I was bust so what did I have to lose. I asked him if he wanted to play some heads-up. He said sure.

So I get out of that godforsaken game I was in and get a set of balls from the counter. We go to the corner table far away from the other game. We decide to play straight pool, 100 points for $100. I was pretty nervous because I didn't know this guy and I'm not sure if I even had a 100 in my pocket. I thought I'd figure that one out only if I had to.

Very quickly I could see this guy couldn't play at all. I mean nothing. I mean he barely knew what side of the cue to hold. He couldn't run 6 or 7 balls if I gave him a rotation break. After a few innings when I was 100% sure of my assessment, I
loosened up and stop playing safe. I was REALLY happy about being able to win my money back. I win that game 100 to 25 or something like that. As I'm running the last few balls I notice him walking up to the table getting ready to flip again. WHAT?

He pays me and flips. I win again. He pays me and asks me to double up. I win again. He asks me for weight finally. I offer him 100-85 (I feel bad about that now). I win several more. We play all night long. He never comes within 50 balls of winning.

I can't recall how much I won that night but I will never forget it. I have no idea what that kid was thinking or where he got all that money to lose. He was a gentleman and never complained though.

I never seen him before or never seen him again. But, a few months after that, I see his face in the newspaper. He was the trigger man for some big gang in our area! I was lucky to get out of that one without catching one in the head.
 
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ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
fjk said:
OK, I got one. Maybe not a great one, but it was memorable to me.
...

I never seen him before or never seen him again. But, a few months after that, I see his face in the newspaper. He was the trigger man for some big gang in our area! I was lucky to get out of that one without catching one in the head.
Click to expand...




Yikes! That would be an attention getter when you saw his picture in the paper. Good pool story and the kicker was great!

Hu
 
sjm

sjm

Older and Wiser
Silver Member
Been around for a lot of weird stuff in pool halls.

In about 1983, I saw a guy who was stuck tens of thousands of dollars ask his opponent for a double or nothing bet, but suspecting an air barrel, his opponent said no. The guy, a restaurant owner in Chinatown, said "I'll bet my restaurant" and the bet was accepted. It was truly painful to watch as this guy lost his restaurant in a pool game.

In 1987, at the Golden Q in Queens, NY, I was there during a mob hit. All of us who were playing at the time ducked under our respective tables until the gunfire stopped and the perpetrators left. I was told I was the last to get up.

Pat Fleming is widely recognized as having been one of the inventors of the modern jump cue, but I knew him in the late 1980's when he was experimenting with a lot of very strange-looking cues to see what worked best for jumping. Watching him was a crackup. At the time, there were no rules concerning the allowable specifications for a jump cue. I recall one night he showed up with a jump cue made of plexiglass that had to be seen to be believed. Another night, he showed up with a short cue that's tip had to be 35 millimeters wide. It was like a running comedy show.

One time in 1996, I was playing at the Amsterdam Billiard Club in Manhattan, NY, and a waitress carrying a tray of drinks slipped and fell, dropping all the drinks on my table. Now that was unexpected! You guessed it, they gave me a different table.

In 1998, I was playing a league match and took a bathroom break. When I came back, my cue was gone! This was quite distressing, but after I looked around the room for about ten minutes, I found someone playing with it. Turns out that when they saw an unattended cue, one of many in the room, they assumed it was available for their use. I got my cue back, but suffered a lot of stress.

Things happen.
 
ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
sjm said:
Been around for a lot of weird stuff in pool halls.

In about 1983, I saw a guy who was stuck tens of thousands of dollars ask his opponent for a double or nothing bet, but suspecting an air barrel, his opponent said no. The guy, a restaurant owner in Chinatown, said "I'll bet my restaurant" and the bet was accepted. It was truly painful to watch as this guy lost his restaurant in a pool game.

In 1987, at the Golden Q in Queens, NY, I was there during a mob hit. All of us who were playing at the time ducked under our respective tables until the gunfire stopped and the perpetrators left. I was told I was the last to get up.

Pat Fleming is widely recognized as having been one of the inventors of the modern jump cue, but I knew him in the late 1980's when he was experimenting with a lot of very strange-looking cues to see what worked best for jumping. Watching him was a crackup. At the time, there were no rules concerning the allowable specifications for a jump cue. I recall one night he showed up with a jump cue made of plexiglass that had to be seen to be believed. Another night, he showed up with a short cue that's tip had to be 35 millimeters wide. It was like a running comedy show.

One time in 1996, I was playing at the Amsterdam Billiard Club in Manhattan, NY, and a waitress carrying a tray of drinks slipped and fell, dropping all the drinks on my table. Now that was unexpected! You guessed it, they gave me a different table.

In 1998, I was playing a league match and took a bathroom break. When I came back, my cue was gone! This was quite distressing, but after I looked around the room for about ten minutes, I found someone playing with it. Turns out that when they saw an unattended cue, one of many in the room, they assumed it was available for their use. I got my cue back, but suffered a lot of stress.

Things happen.
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Stu,

Great stories, no surprise there!

I ran into the jump rods a few times in the late sixties on until I guess the early eighties. I didn't know of any rule against them and we were in gambling matches anyway. All they were was a cue tip on a half inch or 9/16" stainless steel bar a foot to a foot and a half long. Those puppies would jump balls! My guess is a jump rod with a modern tip would jump as well or better than any jump cue out there today. Illegal because of length and possibly weight.

I have considered sticking a piece of foam on the end of one to watch people whine!

Hu
 
West Point 1987

West Point 1987

On the Hill, Out of Gas
Silver Member
ShootingArts said:
Stu,

Great stories, no surprise there!

I ran into the jump rods a few times in the late sixties on until I guess the early eighties. I didn't know of any rule against them and we were in gambling matches anyway. All they were was a cue tip on a half inch or 9/16" stainless steel bar a foot to a foot and a half long. Those puppies would jump balls! My guess is a jump rod with a modern tip would jump as well or better than any jump cue out there today. Illegal because of length and possibly weight.

I have considered sticking a piece of foam on the end of one to watch people whine!

Hu
Click to expand...

I tried a section of a HMMWV radio antenna (kevlar) with layers of 100 mph tape for a tip. Jumped like a beast. :)
 
ShootingArts

ShootingArts

Smorg is giving St Peter the 7!
Gold Member
Silver Member
Sit back, get something cool to drink, this one should be broken into chapters!

I was dirt tracking with an outlaw named Bobby. I wasn't working so when he came wanting to partner up swapping out some eighteen wheeler transmissions I went for it. A gravel parking lot, a piece of cracked and breaking half inch plywood, a standard floor jack not a transmission jack, and 1500 pound transmissions to balance on the six inch pedestal of said jack, what could possibly go wrong? Well except the minor detail that one of us had to work from each side of the ten wheel over the road tractors with them sitting on all wheels. Laying there it was impossible to move fast. If the transmission fell off the jack one of us was dead.

Besides me having the jack, another reason Bobby roped me in was that he didn't have any wheels running at the moment. After working on these trucks pretty much can to can't I had to drive about twenty miles to my house plus another twenty or twenty-five to bring Bobby home. The easiest way to get to his house was by way of Hooper and Greenwell Springs Road. There was an old lounge at where Hooper Road tee'd into Greenwell Springs Road, cleverly called The Three Way Lounge. This place was beyond rough. They had a pit in the woods behind the place for fights with fists or knives. Generally standing room only but there were a couple chairs and occasionally beer or drinks served back there if you were a good tipper. All fights were of the purely spur of the moment variety but of course Marquis of Queensbury Rules were strictly followed. Yeah right.

However, the three way wasn't without a saving grace when we were passing through filthy, exhausted, and dry. They had very cold beer! We stopped and since there was a bar table I started to feed it some quarters. About that time two guys came up and wanted to play partners for a beer. Sure, why not. Bobby and I had banged balls around together before, neither showing any real speed but I figured we still had enough horsepower to cover afternoon beer drinkers.

We lost the flip, I paid, Bobby racked. They broke dry, Bobby went through a pretty easy out playing eight ball. Then Bobby broke and ran, broke and ran, broke and ran, ... yeah, kind of a thin plot through here but I had eight beers in front of me before I got up to clear three or four balls off. When they gave up we each had thirteen beers in front of us and I had gotten up twice. As soon as we got out the door I said, "Bobby we have to talk." We were risking life and limb changing out ten wheeler transmissions for $150 a change out when Bobby could run seven or eight racks of pool on a barbox?? A little business to take care of the next day and a few dollars needed to be scraped up. The second day later Bobby and I took our first pool related road trip.

Not a road trip, or only sixty miles or so, Bobby and I stepped into a country honky-tonk a few months later. Bobby was known, I wasn't. On the weekends there were bands and these places were thumping! All the cowboys and farm hands came out of the piney woods, all of the girls dressed to their nines and were there to have a good time too!

These country boys were all right proud of their abilities as lovers, fighters, and pool players! This was on a weekday evening though with the sun still up. No band, no girls to fight over, the pool table was the only thing happening.

By this time Bobby and I would enter places like this five or ten minutes apart and if there wasn't any action on the pool table we would start gambling with each other, both playing awful to gin up a little interest. The tables were open to challenge and generally the bet stayed the same from game to game. The table was a sad looking old coin op nine footer with pockets like #3 washtubs!

Bobby was on the table at five a game when I went in and there were a half-dozen challengers. I bought a beer and looked around for ten minutes or so. Bobby was covering the table so not much for me to do. Closer inspection revealed close to two dozen guys in the place, a man behind the bar and two lounge lizards. Not that I was anything special myself but these gals weren't exactly USDA Prime. Never-the-less, they were the two best looking ladies in the place and I was bored. I rambled over to the table they were sitting at, "May I buy you ladies a drink?" They wanted little Millers which were popular at the time, but not what I had in mind. What the hell, cheap dates! I talked to them about forty-five minutes then remembered that Bobby could be a might forgetful about my split sometimes so I ambled over to the pool table and put my fifty cents up. Bobby kept the table until my quarters came up then missed a ball halfway through running out after his break. I always figured him missing a ball playing me was my cue to take over so I did.

My hair was down over my collar, my beard full and heavy even though I was in my late teens or maybe twenty. My blue jeans, plain cowboy boots and Denin shirt and jacket over a colored pocket tee shirt still didn't make me quite blend in. I was a stranger, probably a damned hippie! By the time it was obvious that only maybe three guys out of the dozen or so that had gotten into action trying to beat me had any chance of doing so, their blood was up! Would have probably meant a fight or even a cutting but by this time it was obvious Bobby and I were together. I wasn't big at six-one or so and about 175 and Bobby was maybe four inches shorter and closer to 150. However, they all knew Bobby would go knuckle and skull with any of them and was just as free and easy about going to whittling with an old pocket knife. Nobody wanted to jump the combo.

In their frustration they started putting up challenges, sometimes five or ten at a time. Once I looked at that table and one long rail was covered with challenges and the other was about 3/4 covered, one quarter wide. With never more than about two-dozen people challenging the table out of the peak of about thirty crowded around there were about 120 challenges on that table for awhile when I considered the diameter of a quarter and how long those two lines of quarters were.

Bobby and the girls are on the rail and I am tossing a five to Bobby now and then to get us a couple cans of beer and keep the girls in ponies. These guys can't beat me, they know it, but they figure I have to accidentally pocket the eight ball or scratch on the eight sooner or later and every one of them wanted to be the one on the table with me when it happened!

After awhile the crowd started thinning and the challenges slowed. The games finally came to an end when the last of the guys playing me had to leave the bar to go straight to work. That happened to about the last half-dozen. Bobby and I led the two ladies and a small parade of six or eight guys out to my truck. Wasn't exactly an honor, all the guys wanted to see Bobby and I stomped or cut but none of them figured they were the right one to start that particular party! By then I had every pocket in my Lee Jacket, denin shirt, and blue jeans crammed full of fives, my boots too. Something over eight hundred dollars won in that one session, five dollars at a time. I called that kind of gambling chopping wood. Fortunately I loved to play pool, still do. I have never burned out on pool.

A few more bits and pieces to the story but the epilogue or whatever happened about a year later. I was building a new stock car and out of a ride. A nice upper middle class couple had offered me a ride in their late model. Great! I am going to some effort to both mind my manners and be extra polite, the lady was the actual car owner.

I am standing next to the car when something comes up and wraps around me! It is the lady that Bobby had been with. She isn't wearing anything but a dress like a tee shirt that reached down past her knees. It is very thin, very stretchy, and it is very obvious that she doesn't have a thing on under the dress that looks more like a night shirt. She is very drunk and very insistent that she wants me to drop everything I am doing and go play house with her right now! So much for trying to act like I had a little class around this couple I barely knew and that barely knew me! I wanted to dig a hole, crawl in, and pull the sides down over me!

Bobby and I got into quite a few adventures but that was kinda a given if you hung with Bobby. He could get into more trouble walking down his driveway to get his mail than most of us could dig up in six months of serious effort!
 
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