I posted this in another thread but I felt a lot of people might miss this good story. This is a story from buddy's book when he was starting to come into his own.
This is right out of rags to rifleman buddy halls book.
They found Buttermilk practicing on his favorite 4x8 table. Buddy attempted to persuade him to move to another table, but Buttermilk stubbornly refused. Buddy had just made a 700 dollar score and had that coveted good feeling after beating Tommy Mann. He figured that Buttermilk might falter playing for higher stakes, so he invited Buttermilk to play for $20 a game. Buttermilk was on short money, but there were three stake horses in the room who knew the track record between these two. They didn't mind backing Buttermilk's action against an opponent that had never beat him.
The game was on, and Buddy's strategy seemed to be working. Buddy had won the first few games, and he had been maintaining a 5 or 6 game lead for almost an hour. Then, Buttermilk's stake horses began telling stories, recalling some of his most glorious victories and most fantastic shots. He overheard their conversation and literally became a different player. He started cutting the paint off the balls, and letting position go with the wind. Even if he hooked himself, he kicked the ball into a pocket. Then, one of the stake horses yelled, "Sometimes, Buttermilk plays so good that he hooks himself on purpose, just to make it interesting."
Buddy could see the nightmare coming again. He had been here before. Buttermilk was playing intelligent percentage pool in the beginning, but now, he was going for impossible shots, and making them. The cue ball was flying around the table, hitting four or five cushions, and after kissing off two or three balls, like magic, he would be straight in for his next shot. He not only made a comeback to get even, he had Buddy stuck for $300.
Buddy didn't want to give up, and he tried his best to survive Buttermilk's barrage of awesome shot making. Every time that Buttermilk fired in a difficult bank shot, the ooooh's and aaaah's from the eyeballers only inspired encore performances. Buddy felt that if these guys wanted to impersonate cheerleaders, the should have brought along pom-poms. For Buddy and Red, it was like seeing a re-run of a bad movie. They had seen this show to many times, and both realized what the outcome was going to be.
Buttermilk continued to win until he had picked a couple of hundred dollars more out of Buddy's pocket, then he was forced to shoot at a 9ball that was about a quarter of an inch off the end rail. The cue ball was on the other end of the table, parallel with the 9ball. Buddy expected another spectacular bank shot, followed by a standing ovation from the sweaters, when Buttermilk shot the cue ball so hard, it jumped six inches into the air after hitting the end rial. The hit on the 9ball was so thin it couldn't be heard, and the breeze from the cue ball, caused the 9ball to crawl towards the corner pocket. The cue ball had traveled up and down the table twice, by the time the 9 ball got to the edge of the pocket. The yellow striped ball seemed to tease Buddy by hesitating for a split second. Why, nobody would ever believe it. That ball actually stopped, before dropping out of sight. Could Buttermilk have a hex on these balls, or what?
Neither Buddy nor Red wanted to see anymore after that. It was enough to send a pool player to the bathroom, with a queasy feeling in his gut. The game was over, and Buttermilk continued to be a monkey on Buddy's back the size of King Kong. It was a long and silent trip back to Paducah.
Edit/Delete Message
This is right out of rags to rifleman buddy halls book.
They found Buttermilk practicing on his favorite 4x8 table. Buddy attempted to persuade him to move to another table, but Buttermilk stubbornly refused. Buddy had just made a 700 dollar score and had that coveted good feeling after beating Tommy Mann. He figured that Buttermilk might falter playing for higher stakes, so he invited Buttermilk to play for $20 a game. Buttermilk was on short money, but there were three stake horses in the room who knew the track record between these two. They didn't mind backing Buttermilk's action against an opponent that had never beat him.
The game was on, and Buddy's strategy seemed to be working. Buddy had won the first few games, and he had been maintaining a 5 or 6 game lead for almost an hour. Then, Buttermilk's stake horses began telling stories, recalling some of his most glorious victories and most fantastic shots. He overheard their conversation and literally became a different player. He started cutting the paint off the balls, and letting position go with the wind. Even if he hooked himself, he kicked the ball into a pocket. Then, one of the stake horses yelled, "Sometimes, Buttermilk plays so good that he hooks himself on purpose, just to make it interesting."
Buddy could see the nightmare coming again. He had been here before. Buttermilk was playing intelligent percentage pool in the beginning, but now, he was going for impossible shots, and making them. The cue ball was flying around the table, hitting four or five cushions, and after kissing off two or three balls, like magic, he would be straight in for his next shot. He not only made a comeback to get even, he had Buddy stuck for $300.
Buddy didn't want to give up, and he tried his best to survive Buttermilk's barrage of awesome shot making. Every time that Buttermilk fired in a difficult bank shot, the ooooh's and aaaah's from the eyeballers only inspired encore performances. Buddy felt that if these guys wanted to impersonate cheerleaders, the should have brought along pom-poms. For Buddy and Red, it was like seeing a re-run of a bad movie. They had seen this show to many times, and both realized what the outcome was going to be.
Buttermilk continued to win until he had picked a couple of hundred dollars more out of Buddy's pocket, then he was forced to shoot at a 9ball that was about a quarter of an inch off the end rail. The cue ball was on the other end of the table, parallel with the 9ball. Buddy expected another spectacular bank shot, followed by a standing ovation from the sweaters, when Buttermilk shot the cue ball so hard, it jumped six inches into the air after hitting the end rial. The hit on the 9ball was so thin it couldn't be heard, and the breeze from the cue ball, caused the 9ball to crawl towards the corner pocket. The cue ball had traveled up and down the table twice, by the time the 9 ball got to the edge of the pocket. The yellow striped ball seemed to tease Buddy by hesitating for a split second. Why, nobody would ever believe it. That ball actually stopped, before dropping out of sight. Could Buttermilk have a hex on these balls, or what?
Neither Buddy nor Red wanted to see anymore after that. It was enough to send a pool player to the bathroom, with a queasy feeling in his gut. The game was over, and Buttermilk continued to be a monkey on Buddy's back the size of King Kong. It was a long and silent trip back to Paducah.
Edit/Delete Message
