Diamond Dave learns a lesson (and probably does irreversible damage to his back)

Shuddy

Shuddy

Diamond Dave’s babysitter
Silver Member
Hi Everyone!

Diamond Dave here!

I had an interesting experience playing in a big tournament in Seoul last weekend, and it really reinforced some classic nuggets of wisdom for me.

Backstory:

On December 30th last year, I had been sitting cross-legged on my computer chair for about an hour. A delivery guy rang the doorbell, and I jumped off my chair to answer the door. Unfortunately, my foot had gone to sleep, and it just crumpled underneath me and made two big popping sounds. An x-ray didn’t reveal any broken bones, but I probably should have gone back for an MRI, as I ended up needing crutches to walk for 4 weeks, and developed a severe limp for about 6 weeks.

Then, a friend came to visit me for a couple of months at the start of February. The elderly taxi driver was shocked at the weight of her suitcase, and I stupidly leant over to grab it from him, with the worst lifting mechanics you could possibly imagine. Of course, this aggravated my already bulging S1-L5 disc, and I’ve been dealing with sciatic pain for the last 5 weeks. I’ve had this disc problem since my early 20s, and it usually clears itself up after about a week. This is the worst it’s ever been. I actually had an epidural steroid injection two weeks ago, a week before I was due to play in a 128 player tournament in Seoul, and a few days before the tournament, I thought the injection was having enough of a positive affect that I might be able to play in the tournament.

And I thought, well, if it’s still painful, I’ll just lose quickly and spend some time seeing friends.

So, I traveled to Seoul in this condition: I hadn’t played any pool for about 3 months. My foot was still sore. My back was an absolute mess, causing pain up and down both legs, through the groin, hip, etc, and not allowing me to stand in my usual stance.

It’s an interesting format. They have 4 groups of 32 players, and these groups are double elimination with 4 from the winner’s side and 4 from the loser’s side going through to the final 32, which changes to knock-out. You can choose which group you want to sign up for, assuming you register fast enough. People who don’t live in Seoul (me) get a few days early access to sign up. Group 1 starts at midnight on a Friday night, group 2 at 9am Saturday, group 3 at midnight Saturday night, and group 4 at 9am Sunday, with the final 32 starting at 3pm Sunday.

Because I have to travel, I chose the Sunday morning group and decided to get to Seoul on Saturday afternoon, maybe go to the venue and practice a little, and meet some friends.

I did all of these things. I played two sets with a friend and quickly realized that I couldn’t stand in my usual snooker-esque right leg straight, square stance. I just couldn’t bend over with my leg straight, so I switched to a side on, both legs bent stance, perhaps similar to SVB. I also realized that playing in the tournament was going to be brutal. Lots of pain. We had dinner with friends, and the day of flying, taxis, playing for the first time in 3 months, and meeting friends had taken it’s toll, so I went back to my hotel around 10pm with the intention of getting a good rest for the next day.

Of course, in an unfamiliar bed with severe back pain, I ended up getting about 3 hours sleep before waking up with time to do 15 minutes of lower back stretching, shower, get dressed, and get to the venue.

And the nightmare began.

From the first game, the pain was severe. Once I was down on the shot, I was kind of okay, but the stress of pain and an unfamiliar stance meant everything was shaking on every shot. Stretching for shots was also out of the question, so I ended up using the rest for some shots when the cueball was only 3 feet away from me, just because it was one of those awkward angles. It was self-rack, winner’s break, with a magic rack. Racking the balls was difficult, but the hardest thing was bending down to the ball return tray to get the balls out. Every time I finished getting all the balls out and tried to rack them, my lower back muscles would spasm for about 5-10 seconds, and I had to just grab onto the edge of the table and wait for the pain to stop. There were numerous break shots where the diamond of balls was just a blur because my eyes were filled with tears.

And each successive game was more painful than the last.

I somehow won my first three games to qualify for the final 32, without, thank goodness, having to go through the loser’s bracket. At this point, I was seriously considering pulling out of the tournament, afraid of how much damage I was doing to myself, and questioning whether it was even physically possible to keep playing. While the loser’s bracket was being decided, I went to get some lunch and think about it.

I decided that I’d come this far, in the tournament and by plane, and well, fuck it, just keep going. However, when I got back to the venue, I went to the smoking room for a vape, and when I tried to stand up from sitting down, my back completely seized up. It took me several tries to eventually stand up, and then about 2 minutes before my back would unfold. So, stretching for shots was out of the question and so was sitting down.

And from 2:30 pm, I didn’t sit down again until I won the tournament at 10:30pm and got in a taxi to go back to the hotel. I stood up for 8 hours, through every match and every break between matches. And after the final, I was shaking so much, and my eyes were watering so much, that I couldn’t undo my cues. A kind person had to help me.

This might sound a bit weak-sauce, but it was honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever achieved, and even now, I’m not sure how I got through the day, let alone win the tournament. When I got back to the hotel, I caught up on my Korean pool playing friends’ group chat, where some people had been giving updates to those not at the event: “He’s visibly shaking on every shot.” “I don’t know how he’s still playing.” “He’s limping around the table.”

There was actually one point when a couple of friends were cheering me on because they could see I was struggling to get the balls back onto the table, not even when I was about to play a hard shot or had just won an important game; just for picking up the balls.
 
Finally, I curled up in a fetal position on the hotel bed, the only position that is relatively pain free, my feet burning from standing for 8 hours, and realized I basically couldn’t remember any of the 8 matches I played. I remembered that I won the finals with a break and run, I remembered a crazy bank shot on the 1 to combo a full table length 9 ball, and I remembered having to win 5 racks in a row when one of my opponents was on the hill. Apart from that, it was all a blur.

I started to think about why that was and how I was able to play well enough to win, and came to a few conclusions:
  1. Ignore your opponent: When I wasn’t at the table, I was basically standing somewhere holding onto a chair or a wall, looking straight down at the floor, flicking my eyes to the table just to keep track of what was happening. My opponent was basically irrelevant because all my energy was focused on staying standing and not being in pain. Lucky rolls, how they were shooting, annoying mannerisms, none of those things affected me because I just didn’t have the emotional energy for them. And the reverse was also true…
  1. Play the shot in front of you: I’m pretty harsh on myself when I don’t meet my expectations, even when I don’t get exactly the position I want, and I can go on tilt pretty easily. That didn’t happen once. Again, I was so focused on just staying standing, that when I didn’t land exactly where I wanted, I didn’t even give myself a second of criticism. I was just happy to have potted the ball and have another shot. Of course, I still played the table with a game plan, and had patterns I wanted to follow, but it was almost like every shot was stepping to the table after my opponent missed. No thoughts of what previously transpired, no thoughts of running out now taking me one step higher on the payout table, just playing the shot in front of me as best I could.
  1. Put 100% into every shot: Because everything was so uncomfortable, I was shaking on every shot, and I was standing in a way that I’d never played before (both legs bent, side on), I put 100% effort into every shot I played, regardless of difficulty. There was also an element of, “Getting down to play this shot is costing me so many emotional and physical resources that I’m not going to waste them by missing.” I very rarely put 100% into a shot. When I can stand naturally and comfortably, I might really focus on 10% of the shots I play.
  1. Cue through the ball: In order to deal with the shaking and discomfort, right before I pulled the trigger on almost every shot, I had a constant mantra running through my head: “Cue through the ball, smooth, clean follow through, clean acceleration, easy power.” It wasn’t a conscious decision (none of these things were), it was just a way to bring me back to the shot after struggling with all the other external factors.
And finally, I’m not going to give this its own number, but, never give up. I’ve intentionally lost so many matches simply because I was fed up and wanted to go home to my dog. Once I got through the first match, I’d already invested so much and was so focused on just staying upright, that the thought of giving up during a match didn’t occur to me once.

We’ve all heard the above things mentioned hundreds of times, but personally, I don’t think I’ve ever really played like that unless I’m in ‘the zone’. This was some kind of Stranger Things upside down world zone, forced onto me by pain rather than subconscious automation. And despite not wanting to ever play a tournament in that condition again, it was an invaluable learning experience.

I think it’s really important in life to hang on to victories and learning experiences, lock them away in our little data banks, and draw on them when we need them most. This tournament was a real reminder of how important those basic concepts are, and I’ll do my best to remember that when things, as they inevitably do, get tough on the pool table.
 
Did the locals carry you out on their shoulders after they helped you unscrew your stick? Sounds like they should have! Nice shooting and story.
 
I’m not at your level but in my local league , the best I have ever played is with a back issue. Beat the best player easily and for the first time ever!
I think to add to what you said, my main reason was it meant I had to stay still on the shot, the only thing moving was my arm and I never hit it hard either.
 
Shuddy said:
I started to think about why that was and how I was able to play well enough to win, and came to a few conclusions:
  1. Ignore your opponent: When I wasn’t at the table, I was basically standing somewhere holding onto a chair or a wall, looking straight down at the floor, flicking my eyes to the table just to keep track of what was happening. My opponent was basically irrelevant because all my energy was focused on staying standing and not being in pain. Lucky rolls, how they were shooting, annoying mannerisms, none of those things affected me because I just didn’t have the emotional energy for them. And the reverse was also true…
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Congrats on the win... I've been preaching the quoted above for some time in my circles. I have some buddies who are very strong players who embraced a Neils approach of intensity throughout a match. Frankly, I don't eat enough calories to sustain that level of focus during a match, let alone a full day of play. A few years back I switched mind sets, and now I couldn't care less about my opponent and what they're doing at the table. I'll watch pretty much anything else other than my opponent...lol

It's amazing at how much better I perform when I don't sweat the crap I have zero control over.
 
Great achievement, congrats on the win and get your butt healed up! :)

I did pretty well in a local tournament recently and your 4 points are pretty much spot on what was going through my head. Back pain and severe nicotine withdraw from quitting had my head in a weird place. I put an earbud in and blasted the heaviest music I could find at full volume in one ear. Listening to a playlist filled with music by CORPSE and Ghostemane shut all thinking up and the 4 points you listed became default. You nailed the list!
 
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