Well, I thought I'd pass this one on.
I had been going back and forth to Danville, VA. to a place called Clucks. I had pretty much had the run of the joint for almost a month. I had given the eight to "Bigun", the six to "Red", and quite a few other matchups. Man, this place was hoppin'. More often than not, there would be a few ladies dancing to a live band on the bar. Four big, or was it six? Anyway, 4 1/2 X 9, and the rest (6) bartables. Most everyone would bet it up, too.
So, Mike Coltrain was about seventeen. He was coming into his own, so to speak. The exact shadow of Johnny. Stance, stroke, etc. It was like watching a young Johnny, except not quite as steady. That kid had a gift from the pool gods. Anyway, he calls me up and tells me he needs to make some cash. He was playing so good, I couldn't wait to sneak him into Clucks. Sneak being the word, he was only seventeen. I told him to grab an ID and meet me at my place. Off we went.
We get there about eight o'clock. Way before "happening" time. We scope out the place, when Red walks in. "I'll take the five and the last two." "No thanks, nice talking to you." I reply. I figured the longer I waited, the better the game. (If you know me, being patient is not my strong point) Wait a minute, there is the black Monte Carlo. This is it. Bigun is here.
"You beat me with the eight last time. Give up the seven and we'll kick it off at $50 a game!"
"I'm a little buzzed. Been here since 7:00. Ask the bartender. What will you give my little cousin?"
Coltrain. Picture this skinny kid with beads, flipflops, and half grown in gotee.
"He's got the eight. Get it on."
I asked for the seven and eight, but not quite convincing enough. Eight was probably three balls the best of it at least. Hell, Coltrain was giving me the seven and the last three, and I was beating Bigun giving up the eight and winning. Here we went.
I've felt sick before, but I couldn't help showing my disgust after Coltrain was dogging it off worse than me playing Johnny even. We were stuck around $600. Coltrain pulls me to the side and was worried. Bigun was getting bored, and I could feel the inevitable move to quit winner. "I've gotta go. You boys be around later?" We all knows this means "fu#$ you, and I've enjoyed your cash." He walks out. I follow.
"You gonna quit winner on a kid? You come back in, switch to the tight table and you've got the eight."
"From you?"
"From the kid. Yeah, and bet a $100 a game. That loose a$$ rag you guys were playing on, anybody can get out."
He got outta his car and grabbed his cue with a "Let's get it on."
I pulled Mike aside and told him what was going on.
Well, I truly believe Mike is one of those people that gives weight better than getting it, just because of the psychological factor of believing you're the better player. Well, you guessed it. Mike looked like Mike. Full swing.
$1200 winner at the end. I was pretty glad I followed him out to the car. If Mike was giving up weight, jump on board. I'm not saying he beat champions for the cash, but let him play someone that is at least a ball under him and watch that skinny kid go. And believe me, at one time, 99% or more were at least a ball under this kid.