This is perhaps the polar opposite of the currently running thread; "Why I Love Pool".
I have been enjoying my good buddy's upscale pool hall/lounge for the past five years. There aren't enough serious pool players frequenting the club; as many of you know, the emphasis for these places in order to stay in the black, is they must sell their souls to a large extent to the likes of Karyoke (this doesn't look spelled right but I'm too lazy to look it up) and myriad other gimmicks to attract customers. The name of the game is pouring drinks, not table time!
Aside from the usual small circle of good and/or serious players who come in, every once in a while some new blood strays in the door. A couple of months ago, the walking and talking definition of "old scuffer" came in. A few of the regulars knew him as he reportedly frequents another pool hall just a few miles away. I observed him playing some racks and it was easy to figure that at one time, he had a real good game. Now, even in his seventies, he looked like he was hovering around B level. I introduced myself and we ended up playing a couple of races. That particular night, my game was on and I was able to beat him with relative ease.
We chatted quite a bit about our pool lives and I was delighted to hear his stories describing a pool era gone by. He mixed it up with some legends like Liscotti, Matthews and Massey just to name a few. I felt genuinely honored to listen and learn what I could from this old timer (he's maybe just 20 years my senior - I'm 53) and I looked forward to when we would next get together. He indicated that he was tired of his regular hall and he expected he'd be coming to my buddy's place on a regular basis. I had visions of playing some fun sets with him and maybe having a beer or two while he shared some more great stories from the past.
Over the next few weeks we did see each other four or five times and we had some good sets as well as good conversation. When he wasn't playing, he was almost always working on his cues and even some house cues. :smile: His case was an old black, battle-scarred vinyl no-name with four added velcro straps that allowed him to carry two additional shafts. As I said, when he wasn't playing, he was on a couch scotchbriting, sanding, scuffing, shaping, tip-picking, etc., etc., etc. It was sort of comical yet endearing all at the same time. To be sure, a certain amount of his body chemistry was made up of master chalk and talcum powder. I liked this guy! :thumbup:
Sometime around week five I was talking with my pal Jimmy, the bar manager, and he tells me that a number of house cues were mysteriously missing their tips. I said "that's odd" and really didn't give it any more thought. That's until a few days later when another buddy Mike and I were chatting and the subject of the "Old Scuffer" came up and Mike said: "Oh yeah, he got kicked out of his old pool hall for boosting tips off of the house cues." He said he would remove them and keep them in a plastic sandwich bag in his case and he was caught. I said "WTF, are you kidding me?" He said wait, it get's worse. Mike said he was playing him at our club a week prior and noticed the cue he was playing with looked just like another friend of ours cue that was stolen from that other pool hall six months ago. And that this old man was suspected. Now he had the balls to be using the cue 3 miles from where he apparently stole it. And guess what? The old man also had our other friends break cue. Holy Crappasaurus! During their match, Mike excused himself to the bathroom and texted our friend Roy, who happened to be two towns over at the movies. Roy said don't take your eyes off him or my cues, I'll be there in ten minutes.
Roy shows up, makes his way to their table and says "WTF are you doing with my cues? Old man says, I bought 'em from some guy over at a pool hall in xyz town or wherever. Roy says, hand them over to me and so he does, and that was that. :angry:
My question: What in the hell do you do with somebody like this?
I believe I know the answer but am interested to hear your comments/suggestions.
Sorry for this story with its big ugly warts.
Best,
Brian kc
I have been enjoying my good buddy's upscale pool hall/lounge for the past five years. There aren't enough serious pool players frequenting the club; as many of you know, the emphasis for these places in order to stay in the black, is they must sell their souls to a large extent to the likes of Karyoke (this doesn't look spelled right but I'm too lazy to look it up) and myriad other gimmicks to attract customers. The name of the game is pouring drinks, not table time!
Aside from the usual small circle of good and/or serious players who come in, every once in a while some new blood strays in the door. A couple of months ago, the walking and talking definition of "old scuffer" came in. A few of the regulars knew him as he reportedly frequents another pool hall just a few miles away. I observed him playing some racks and it was easy to figure that at one time, he had a real good game. Now, even in his seventies, he looked like he was hovering around B level. I introduced myself and we ended up playing a couple of races. That particular night, my game was on and I was able to beat him with relative ease.
We chatted quite a bit about our pool lives and I was delighted to hear his stories describing a pool era gone by. He mixed it up with some legends like Liscotti, Matthews and Massey just to name a few. I felt genuinely honored to listen and learn what I could from this old timer (he's maybe just 20 years my senior - I'm 53) and I looked forward to when we would next get together. He indicated that he was tired of his regular hall and he expected he'd be coming to my buddy's place on a regular basis. I had visions of playing some fun sets with him and maybe having a beer or two while he shared some more great stories from the past.
Over the next few weeks we did see each other four or five times and we had some good sets as well as good conversation. When he wasn't playing, he was almost always working on his cues and even some house cues. :smile: His case was an old black, battle-scarred vinyl no-name with four added velcro straps that allowed him to carry two additional shafts. As I said, when he wasn't playing, he was on a couch scotchbriting, sanding, scuffing, shaping, tip-picking, etc., etc., etc. It was sort of comical yet endearing all at the same time. To be sure, a certain amount of his body chemistry was made up of master chalk and talcum powder. I liked this guy! :thumbup:
Sometime around week five I was talking with my pal Jimmy, the bar manager, and he tells me that a number of house cues were mysteriously missing their tips. I said "that's odd" and really didn't give it any more thought. That's until a few days later when another buddy Mike and I were chatting and the subject of the "Old Scuffer" came up and Mike said: "Oh yeah, he got kicked out of his old pool hall for boosting tips off of the house cues." He said he would remove them and keep them in a plastic sandwich bag in his case and he was caught. I said "WTF, are you kidding me?" He said wait, it get's worse. Mike said he was playing him at our club a week prior and noticed the cue he was playing with looked just like another friend of ours cue that was stolen from that other pool hall six months ago. And that this old man was suspected. Now he had the balls to be using the cue 3 miles from where he apparently stole it. And guess what? The old man also had our other friends break cue. Holy Crappasaurus! During their match, Mike excused himself to the bathroom and texted our friend Roy, who happened to be two towns over at the movies. Roy said don't take your eyes off him or my cues, I'll be there in ten minutes.
Roy shows up, makes his way to their table and says "WTF are you doing with my cues? Old man says, I bought 'em from some guy over at a pool hall in xyz town or wherever. Roy says, hand them over to me and so he does, and that was that. :angry:
My question: What in the hell do you do with somebody like this?
I believe I know the answer but am interested to hear your comments/suggestions.
Sorry for this story with its big ugly warts.
Best,
Brian kc
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that use to do this.