Man, we've got some good players on here. I would be afraid to try and run balls on my Brunswick Gibson (the Anniversary copy) with 4.5 inch pockets. I doubt I could get thru two racks in my present state of out-of-strokeness.
For a guy who made his living playing pool for the better part of ten years, I have exactly zero high runs. Well, not quite. You see, if you played pool for cash in the 60's and 70's, you played 9-Ball and One Pocket almost exclusively. So what has changed, right?
Occasionally I played some Banks and a lot of Eight Ball on bar tables. My only straight pool forays were in NY against a couple of old guys who refused to play 9-Ball and wouldn't even discuss One Pocket. So we played 14.1 and they creamed me. 35 and safe, 38 and safe, 27 and out, and I was a goner, losing $50 by a score of something like 100-26. and the next guy I may have gotten to 40. I swore off 14.1 with old men in NY.
I did occasionally practice 14.1 to improve my game and see how many I could run. I believe I had a few runs in practice in the 60's. Now fast forward a couple of years and I'm visiting my brother who is in med school at the U. of Florida in Gainesville. This is like 1969 or 70. I had gone thru the south, playing across Texas, Louisiana and all to get to Florida. And had done okay, arriving in Florida with a healthy bankroll of maybe $1,500.
In Gainesville, there is one poolroom downtown where I got a few small games like $5 9-Ball and $10 One Pocket. As I recall there was exactly one good player in town, whose name I don't remember. We played one time, broke even and I left him alone. Now at the student union, there was one guy who everyone thought was the greatest. The school champion, John something or other.
I played a few guys there who really couldn't play and the officials warned me about playing 9-Ball anymore. Everyone wanted me to play this John guy (by the way he finished second to Nick Varner in the collegiate champ-ionships one year). I only wanted to play him 9-Ball and One Pocket and he only wanted to play Straights. Finally we compromised. He would play me a Race To Eleven for $50 and I would then play him 100 points for $50.
I just wanted to see how he played and if he could hold up for the cash. After all, at 23 or 24 I was a seasoned player with three or four years on the road (or so I thought anyway at the time). So we played 9-Ball first and I got him 11-5 or 6. Now it's time for Straight Pool and I'm freerollin', already $50 winners.
The game begins with me breaking and he runs 42 off my break. Uh oh, I'm in trouble here. I answer with 9 or 10. lol. And he hits me with 30 something more. Double uh oh. I run maybe 17 or 18, and he starts to shoot again. Lo and behold, my brother walks in. He has never seen me play pool since we were kids. I have told him many times that I'm a good player, but I'm not so sure he believes me.
Bruce finds a seat near the table and nods to me. Maybe 30 or 40 people are watching. I am feeling humiliated right now. My turn to shoot and the score is exactly 91-28 his favor. I'll never forget that. So feeling angry about this turn of events, I begin to shoot. I'm mad at those balls now and drill them into the pockets. One rack down, the guy racks the balls, pretty soon two racks down. On and on I keep shooting, still mad at the thought of losing in front of my brother.
I'm not even keeping track of the score. One of the other kids is doing that. I just keep shooting, afraid to miss. Finally I hear someone say I need one ball. That's when I come out of my trance. I'm looking at a ball that's almost straight in, thinking about shape when he says it. Blam, I blast it in with emphasis. And pick up the other $50 from my now silent opponent.
I look at Bruce, who is smiling at me. We walk out together and he gives me the ultimate compliment. "You play a lot better than you used to".
So that's it, my all time high run is 72. Do I get on the nearly posthumous list?