Many moons ago, I used to run with a one-pocket player named Geese from Maryland. He was more of a road player than a tournament soldier, though he did come in third place at one of the Johnston City tournaments when he was 19 years old, as well as captured the Maryland State title several years.
Geese wasn't an easy pool player to travel with. He suffered from some personal demons, medical in nature, and he was one of those players who just couldn't stand losing. I will never forget the time he went busted in Huntsville, Alabama, to a local and became enraged. I ended up deciding to take a 25-hour bus ride home to D.C. with 5 bucks in my pocket.
There were some good times, though, on the road. We traveled throughout Pennsylvania, hitting all the regular roadster marks, the Jeweler being one I can remember. There was a little town outside of Altoona that begins with an H, and we were steered to a bar there, which happened to be owned by the Mayor of this town. It was a small town. I remember the locals would come in with empty plastic milk containers, and the bartender would fill it up with beer to go. I had never seen that before. The Mayor took a liking to Geese, and Geese won money getting backed and steered by the Mayor.
One weekend, we got a call from the Mayor who asked if we would come up to Pennsylvania right away, and he would pay us $200 just for showing up. There was a stranger in town working by day, but by night, he was at the local pool room looking for any and all action. So off we went. We had nothing to lose, being guaranteed $200, win or lose.
It was a Sunday, and the pool room was closed. So the Mayor took us to a bowling alley in Altoona, which was the only thing open, and it had two 9-foot Gold Crowns. When we walked in, there was the stranger practicing. He was from Louisiana, I found out later, and he was only there for one thing, and that was to gamble.
Everybody jockeyed around for a railside seat, and it was let the games begin. The Louisiana player had kind of thinning long blondish hair and was wearing a tank top, tattered jeans, and cowboy boots. Geese and the Louisiana stranger ended up playing 9-ball for a 2- to 300 per game.
As the games progressed, Geese would lose one and then win two, lose one and then win two. It was a real tight match-up and tense. You could hear a pin drop in the joint. There was no back-and-forth chatter. Finally, a few thousand dollars later, the Louisiana player pulled up and unscrewed his stick.
Fast forward to today, I recall this as being one of the first big money matches I ever witnessed, and though I have neglected to ask him when I have seen him in recent times, I believe this road player in Pennsylvania was none other than Scotty Townsend. It's a small world sometimes!
During the '70s and '80s, it was easy to find action. Here in the D.C. metro area, there were pool rooms and taverns with action galore, ring games on Friday and Saturday nights. Today, it is dead. Coming back from the OTB the other night, Keith said Maryland was nitty, which I took exception to. If Maryland is nitty, the same could be said about most of the United States today. Gone are the days when road players like Scotty Townsend and Geese would screw their sticks together and never ask for a spot. They would just step up to the plate, and it was let the best man win.
Money matches today are usually done by appointment, and road players are well-schooled when it comes to who's who in the pool world. They negotiate to ridiculous lengths. Have you ever seen a road player come to town and then ask for a spot from the house pro? Players of yesteryear had no fear. Today, it's quite different when it comes to money matches and big names.
JAM