Crazest thing you have seen happen in a pool hall

cuetechasaurus said:
About four years ago I was up late at the local PH and was warming up for a big tournament the following day. I knew it was past my bedtime when about a dozen gang members walked in. The place was pretty empty, only a half asleep bartender, myself, and people playing darts up front.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all facing the table I was at. I pretended not to see them. I heard them talking amongst themselves, and before I knew it, a voice behind my ear said "gimme all your money, holmes" as I was down on my shot.

That night I happened to be carrying alot of cash on me, and I was wearing a platinum wrist chain and a $2300 watch. My cue and case alone were worth about $5,000 total. I stood up from my shot and found myself staring at this bald-headed cholo, with tattoes running up his neck onto his bald head. There were like 5 different names of girls tattoed on him. Each of them crossed out except for the last one, Angelina.

I looked down and saw a black pistol hanging out of his belt. His friends gathered around me in a very menacing fashion. My heart started pounding, I knew that I had to give up everything or probably end up dead. I reached behind me for my back pocket to grab my wallet when....yes!! My arm brushed against something I had tucked in my waist behind my belt. My nunchucks! Without thinking, I grabbed the handle, and in a lightning flash, I had knocked one of the guys unconcious.

Before I knew it, I was taking on five guys at the same time. CRACK! THWAP!! Knives were deflected, guns smacked out of their hands, they toppled over one another trying to get at me, only to be greeted by the business end of my black wooden nunchucks. I managed to get their leader in a choke with my nunchucks, and they all charged me. I was struck several times and let loose my stranglehold. After taking several more hits, I started to go down. I knew this was the end. The noise started to dull around me, and things started to go black.

I lost conciousness before I saw a bearded man in a white gi with a black belt enter the room. I awoke seconds later and saw all of the gang members laying on the floor, badly beaten. A hand reached out to me. I grabbed it, and was lifted to my feet. It was Chuck Norris. He is also the greatest pool player who ever lived, so it is not uncommon for him to visit a poolhall if he is in town. He didn't say a word, he just smiled and gave me the thumbs-up sign. He signed my nunchucks, and left. True story I swear.
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This is hands down the best story. Chuck Norris is the greatest pool player of all time, and he has never hit a ball. All he would have to do is play. Go figure....
 
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Matt_24 said:
This is hands down the best story. Chuck Norris is the greatest pool player of all time, and he has never hit a ball. All he would have to do is play. Go figure....
Click to expand...

Chuck Norris does not need a cue stick. He just stares at the cue ball and it moves on its own, driving in Chuck's target ball perfectly every time, out of fear.
 
Mr. Wilson said:
Tommy,

I'll put it like this.

If you sign up again ( ever ) I'll be on the phone with Duncan Bridge Auto and start making my feelings known about your activities here.

I'm not at all interested in playing games with you.

Can I make this any clearer?
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Not sure that will matter much, I believe it is his place.
 
A few years ago I was new in town and I started playing a guy who is a very well-known player in the Southeast, who is famous for playing very well for all stakes, for being pretty much totally crazy, and for the amazing amount that he drinks.

We start playing for about $50 a game and the match goes on for several hours. For almost the entire time my opponent is drinking double Jack Daniels, one right after the other. I'm stuck a few hundred, but I play straight and I figure that eventually, the drinking has to get to this guy. Hours pass and the game continues. Finally we get to the point where my opponent has a long, back-cut shot on the eight ball the length of the table. The cue ball is near a rail and he has to jack up and draw the ball to keep from scratching in the opposite corner.

He is preparing to make this shot but, unknown to us, the bartender in this place had a dog, a big German Shepherd, who he was messing with, tickling it and getting it all worked up. He must have turned away from it or something because just as my opponent was about to shoot this shot, the dog came running out from behind the bar, put both of his front paws up on the rail of our table, and barked.

BAM, my opponent shot the eight ball in like it had eyes, the cueball danced across the table and back and ended up four inches from the nine ball, straight in.

I went to rack the balls and said, "Man, didn't you even see that dog?"

My opponent replied, "You mean that was a real dog?"

That was a little over-the-top for me, so I just quit a couple of games later.
 
ScottW said:
Chuck Norris does not need a cue stick. He just stares at the cue ball and it moves on its own, driving in Chuck's target ball perfectly every time, out of fear.
Click to expand...

No matter what the game, Chuck Norris just looks at the cue ball and executes a perfect roundhouse kick above the table. He then tells the cue ball to break and run out on its own, or else it knows what is coming. The cue ball then does as it was told. Chuck Norris is one bad s.o.b.
 
Matt_24 said:
No matter what the game, Chuck Norris just looks at the cue ball and executes a perfect roundhouse kick above the table. He then tells the cue ball to break and run out on its own, or else it knows what is coming. The cue ball then does as it was told. Chuck Norris is one bad s.o.b.
Click to expand...

Chuck Norris once thought about playing pool and all the balls in all the world put themselves into the pockets out of fear, except the cue balls, which remained motionlessd in either fear or deference to his absolute power.
 
I saw a minimum of 40 Bikers chase a single black kid (5' 2"-pure muscle) into a pool room and corner him (literally). They hit the kid with chains, balls, custom cues, house cues and im sure a couple of other objects i couldnt make out in the meelee. 6 or 7 cop cars showed up and the bikers started streaming back out onto the street. I thought the kid was probably dead or dying.When the last one got out the door, out popped the kid, calling the bikers "punk M.F'rs" and a bunch more. The cops were way out numbered-no arrests were made.
 
cuetechasaurus said:
About four years ago I was up late at the local PH and was warming up for a big tournament the following day. I knew it was past my bedtime when about a dozen gang members walked in. The place was pretty empty, only a half asleep bartender, myself, and people playing darts up front.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all facing the table I was at. I pretended not to see them. I heard them talking amongst themselves, and before I knew it, a voice behind my ear said "gimme all your money, holmes" as I was down on my shot.

That night I happened to be carrying alot of cash on me, and I was wearing a platinum wrist chain and a $2300 watch. My cue and case alone were worth about $5,000 total. I stood up from my shot and found myself staring at this bald-headed cholo, with tattoes running up his neck onto his bald head. There were like 5 different names of girls tattoed on him. Each of them crossed out except for the last one, Angelina.

I looked down and saw a black pistol hanging out of his belt. His friends gathered around me in a very menacing fashion. My heart started pounding, I knew that I had to give up everything or probably end up dead. I reached behind me for my back pocket to grab my wallet when....yes!! My arm brushed against something I had tucked in my waist behind my belt. My nunchucks! Without thinking, I grabbed the handle, and in a lightning flash, I had knocked one of the guys unconcious.

Before I knew it, I was taking on five guys at the same time. CRACK! THWAP!! Knives were deflected, guns smacked out of their hands, they toppled over one another trying to get at me, only to be greeted by the business end of my black wooden nunchucks. I managed to get their leader in a choke with my nunchucks, and they all charged me. I was struck several times and let loose my stranglehold. After taking several more hits, I started to go down. I knew this was the end. The noise started to dull around me, and things started to go black.

I lost conciousness before I saw a bearded man in a white gi with a black belt enter the room. I awoke seconds later and saw all of the gang members laying on the floor, badly beaten. A hand reached out to me. I grabbed it, and was lifted to my feet. It was Chuck Norris. He is also the greatest pool player who ever lived, so it is not uncommon for him to visit a poolhall if he is in town. He didn't say a word, he just smiled and gave me the thumbs-up sign. He signed my nunchucks, and left. True story I swear.
Click to expand...


Wasn't this in a Chuck Norris movie? If not, it should have been.
You would make a good scriptwriter/stuntman for Chuck.
 
A story from the distant past.

Back in the 60's when I was actively pursuing pool as a means of support, I happened to go into a poolroom in Long Beach (the name escapes me now).
It was downstairs in the downtown area and the owner had a son who played a little 9-Ball. He was known as "Trip" and I was to find out why later.

So we matched up a game to play a Race To Eleven for $50 (this was the 60's). Sometime in the middle of the match, I was leading about 7-4 or something like that. Trip is shooting and he falls on the floor in convulsions. I'm not sure what is going on, but it scares me. A couple of guys who are watching tell me not to worry, because it happens all the time. And he will be okay soon.

Sure enough, after a couple of minutes he comes too and slowly gets to his feet. I'm just standing there staring at him, waiting to see what he does next. After all, it is still his turn. He looks around and proceeds to take his cue apart and put it in the case. He then walks up to the counter and asks how much the time is. At this point I approach him and tell him we are playing a match. He looks at me surprised and says okay. He wants to know what we are playing, for how much and what the score is.

I explain everything to him and we once again continue the match. I go ahead and win the money and decline to play another set with him. I'm too freaked out to play anymore. I never went back to that poolroom. Trip was a little too much for me.
 
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