My Birthday is on the 20th, my Anniversary is the 23rd.23rd. You're right, you are old

My Birthday is on the 20th, my Anniversary is the 23rd.23rd. You're right, you are old
I'm not sure I'd go that far. These weren't top notch players, but they weren't terrible. It was just a good time, and a some half decent 8 Ball.OP, ya got out before the big time miscue/shank/miss inevitably took place.
If you stayed & it happened, thatās all theyād remember.
As it is now youāre legendary.
Great read !!!!!!!!!!!! Next time just stay, she'll get over it........My youngest Son and I go down to the local watering hole last night to smack a few balls around. The game is a pretty standard, call your pocket, ball in hand 8 ball. I'll preface the rest of this by saying that at 54.5 years old, time is not on my side.
So we're there for about an hour and a half, and a few more patrons start coming in, carrying in their own sticks/gear. I barely play anymore, but I remember how...sometimes.
Well, after a couple of Apple Ales, I catch a groove, and it feels GOOD. I'm almost floating around the table, the puzzle is almost solving itself. After snapping in an 8 on the break, the following rack I use a one handed pencil grip on the bar cue that had decided we were going to be friends that evening, to make a one handed poke stroke cut shot on the 8 ball, about 2/3rds the length of the bottom rail, at probably a 75 degree angle.
One of the old timers sitting at the bar gives me a wink/nod, and a "helluva" shot after that one. Of course I respond, "I get lucky once in a while," and give him a wry smile in return. At this point the young guns are starting to put quarters up, and I'm sending them back to their chair, one after the other.
Well...it happened. In the middle of my rare "dead stroke," I look at my phone, and see that my Wife has text me that our grocery order will be ready for pickup at the local market, in about an hour. I painfully tell her, "OK I'll get it." So of course I keep winning, and the pick-up window is getting shorter. In my younger years, I might have begged for forgiveness, as opposed to asking for permission. At my age? No thank you.
I turned the table over to my Son after a win, shook hands with some of the younger guns who I'd made believers out of, and went to the grocery store. I get home, unload the car, and begin to describe my exploits to the Mrs., who apparently failed to appreciate the beauty of being in "the zone." I ask her if she has any idea what I'm talking about, and/or if she has any idea how hard it is to leave on a win, when the spirit is with you?
All she says is, "no." That's it.. just, "no."
I'm sharing this story with you animals, knowing that a good many of you will completely understand the tale of the over the hill warrior, in the middle of a glorious flashback moment. All condolences and sympathy are welcome.
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Thank you.Great read !!!!!!!!!!!! Next time just stay, she'll get over it........
Apparently, youāre not such a slow learner after all.My youngest Son and I go down to the local watering hole last night to smack a few balls around. The game is a pretty standard, call your pocket, ball in hand 8 ball. I'll preface the rest of this by saying that at 54.5 years old, time is not on my side.
So we're there for about an hour and a half, and a few more patrons start coming in, carrying in their own sticks/gear. I barely play anymore, but I remember how...sometimes.
Well, after a couple of Apple Ales, I catch a groove, and it feels GOOD. I'm almost floating around the table, the puzzle is almost solving itself. After snapping in an 8 on the break, the following rack I use a one handed pencil grip on the bar cue that had decided we were going to be friends that evening, to make a one handed poke stroke cut shot on the 8 ball, about 2/3rds the length of the bottom rail, at probably a 75 degree angle.
One of the old timers sitting at the bar gives me a wink/nod, and a "helluva" shot after that one. Of course I respond, "I get lucky once in a while," and give him a wry smile in return. At this point the young guns are starting to put quarters up, and I'm sending them back to their chair, one after the other.
Well...it happened. In the middle of my rare "dead stroke," I look at my phone, and see that my Wife has text me that our grocery order will be ready for pickup at the local market, in about an hour. I painfully tell her, "OK I'll get it." So of course I keep winning, and the pick-up window is getting shorter. In my younger years, I might have begged for forgiveness, as opposed to asking for permission. At my age? No thank you.
I turned the table over to my Son after a win, shook hands with some of the younger guns who I'd made believers out of, and went to the grocery store. I get home, unload the car, and begin to describe my exploits to the Mrs., who apparently failed to appreciate the beauty of being in "the zone." I ask her if she has any idea what I'm talking about, and/or if she has any idea how hard it is to leave on a win, when the spirit is with you?
All she says is, "no." That's it.. just, "no."
I'm sharing this story with you animals, knowing that a good many of you will completely understand the tale of the over the hill warrior, in the middle of a glorious flashback moment. All condolences and sympathy are welcome.
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It took awhile.Apparently, youāre not such a slow learner after all.
I only read about one problem too!i dont understand at all. why didnt you send your son and you keep playing.
and why on earth are you doing your wife's work. what has happened to you.??
OP, ya got out before the big time miscue/shank/miss inevitably took place.
If you stayed & it happened, thatās all theyād remember.
As it is now youāre legendary.
I got the stink eye and the verbal diarrhea from the EX whenever I got home late. Her biggest nag saying was Why dont you move in with your poolhall buddies. I finally moved out and been happy ever since. I should've looked in the dictionary for the description of B....ch as there might've had a picture of her in there lolI was in California, well over a thousand miles from home. A friend of a friend was playing with my steel plate pistol trying to hit a gong set out for rifles. It was maybe sixteen by twenty inches at three hundred meters. He had shot up fifty rounds or more of my handloads without success. I passed by and he handed me the pistol. 115 grain hollowpoints in a 38Super, light steel plate loads, I figured it wasn't shooting groups at that range, more like a pattern. That pattern was probably about two feet wide by six feet high since the light loads were falling fast at that range.
I swung the gun up and broke the shot when the sights were about six feet above the gong. Nailed it. I raised the gun again, then put it down. I was batting a thousand, I could only go downhill from there!
When it came to wives and learning, I used to keep a couple cubes of blue Master chalk on the dash of my truck. When I had strayed off and spent a few hours drinking beer with a friend she wouldn't approve of I would lift the bottom of my pocket t-shirt that was all I wore with blue jeans and boots in those days and carefully rub the top of the chalk a couple places.
As I stepped through the door I would be met with a loving, understanding greeting: "Where the hell have you been?!?"
"Girl, I can't lie. I have been making wild passionate love to a beautiful blond for hours."
"Ha, I see that chalk on your shirt. You have been down at the pool hall with those bums again!"
"You got me girl, I can't fool you."
Hu
I'll just say she was pure evil.wow!!!
good to move on.
but if you were able to give her an extra couple hundred every week for whatever, her mindset my have changed, or not.
I understand. Mine stopped going with me, long before I stopped playing regularly. I don't play very often at all anymore. I've tried to convince her to come with me on occasion, but she's even less interested now, than before. My interest waned quite a bit when my back (L5-S1) got really bad. Now that I can actually move again (temporarily), the itch is starting to return.Great short story jpac. Since yourās involves your wife hereās mine and my wife pool story.
Weāve been married 43 going on 44 years and she has never once seen me play pool! Never ever!
She has seen cues that cost over 6 grand and thinks I paid 500 hundred for them. Better that she did not know for my sake! She has no clue how good I was when I was younger.
Anyway one night here in Chapel Hill I am out at an APA league night. At that time I was sandbagging to keep my rank as an 8 and 6.
The matches are going on and I remember I had left something in my truck.
So I walk out, itās about 10pm a beautiful night and Iām strolling through the parking lot to the truck. Out of the corner of my eye I see a familiar looking Toyota driving slowly in the parking lot. I know that car so I decide to play hide and seek. She drives down one lane and spots my truck and drives up slowly checking it out.
I step out into her headlights and there she is, looking all silly and caught checking up on the hubby.
The window rolls down and I say, fancy meeting you here darling, what ya doing?
Now sheās all embarrassed so I have to play that off and tell her itās alright I understand.
She is beside herself and I tell her not to worry and ask her to park the car and come in to meet the team. No way she says, Iām going home. I truly begged her to come in cause I like showing off on the table and wanted to impress her
No way. Sheās going home. That was as close as she ever got to seeing me play pool.
That had to be twenty years ago and at 72 now my days of thrashing folks are likely behind me.
I still wish sheād have come in that night!!
Wives do funny things, thatās why we like em!
That brought a chuckle. Thanksby saying that at 54.5 years old,