Funny Pool Stories

Well perhaps the second greatest but certainly one of the best pool stories. Those that are looking for short tales probably should pass on though, this one is a bit long.

Here is a, probably the classic story from Smorg. He was the kind of person that funny things happened to and around. I have known a few like that, my old partner Bobby was the same. The smallest thing I did with Bobby often turned into an epic, even life threatening, adventure. Anyway, here is the story from Smorg. Because of who Smorg was every word may be gospel, every word a myth, or somewhere in between. That was part of Smorg's mystique, we never really knew who he was or which of his many persona was really him if any was. Maybe they all were?

An Update: A good friend of Smorg’s confirmed this was a true story.

(Tampa Tubby Bob)
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ...... <insert flashback music here> I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.
Anyway, that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home with ALL the amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant other).

He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000 157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).

After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the 'shucker' employed. The bar area had a 4x8 pooltable and the proximity to the beach and the breeze had it in the lower 50’s. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh).

All the locals wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his nose).

This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break. I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'. At first, he thought that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe Beach, Fl.

I got down to the eightball and Jim-Bob said that I had to 'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'. Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob".

At the same time,everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was divastated. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and give him an opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.

I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach and he assures me NO ONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that the word has spread up & down the beach. They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm thinking about breaking out my sling, walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it REALLY exciting. I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good.

Does it get any better than this?
(end of Smorg's tale)


Good story... yessiree(you guessed it)bob.
 
Not sure that this qualifies as a pool story, but it always struck me as amusing.

A fellow I met in 1995 in a NYC poolroom introduced himself as "Jerry." He and I became good friends. A few years later, when I said "Hi Jerry" as he walked into the poolroom, he said "It's not Jerry, it's Joel." Why, I had to ask, did he have me and everyone else, staff included, at the poolroom believe his name to be Jerry.

The answer was pretty shocking. It seems that he was going through some very tough times with his wife and she seemed to be able to track him down almost anywhere. He didn't want anyone calling the poolroom (where he spent a lot of time) and asking for Joel to get hold of him, and he didn't want anyone in the room to be able to identify him as Joel. He only spilled the beans after things had cooled down.

Hence the misdirection. Seems weird, though, that I called a pool friend of mine by the wrong name for the first few years of our friendship.

"You can call be Ray, or you can call me Jay, or you can c..." :yeah:
 
A bit of self-deprecation here.

A top player in NYC once talked to me about pool nicknames, and how it was very prestigious to have a nickname that included a state, like Vivian "The Texas Tornado" Villareal, Jack "Jersey Red" Breit, or Shane "The South Dakota Kid" Van Boening. A bit less prestigious, he explained, was to have a nickname that included the name of a major city, like Larry "Boston Shorty" Johnson. Slightly less prestigious than that, he went on to note, was to have a nickname that included a section of a city like Johnny "Brooklyn Johnny" Ervolino.

I asked him, quite matter of factly, what nickname I'd merit. He said, the best I can do for you is "54th Street Stu". Yes, at the time I lived on 54th Street in Manhattan, NY. He was willing to concede that I was likely the best pool player on 54th Street, but not much more. I laughed and laughed.

You could've been the best on 54th AND 55th, Stu! And of course that would only stoke the fires to make it all the way up to *mid-town* Stu! Or better yet, **Columbus Circle*** Stu!!! ( go north, young man )
 
Julien St Denis was a grea player out of Hull, Quebec.....50s to 70s
...world class, but there was no money in pro snooker in his time....
...he worked on the railroad.

Andre Goyette....also a great player....just under Julien.

So they go to the action room in Montreal one weekend....Club Billiards

They got sick and tired of Julien’s action real quick...so they tried Andre.
...they eventually quit Andre also.

So Julien offered a different game....they could play Andre and he would cover one eye...
...but they had to raise the bet......Andre won all the cash....after all...
...he only had one eye he could actually see out of.

Good thing they didn't want him to cover the good one... :eek: :duck:
 
I got a bunch from over the years but here's one.

I'm practicing by myself one afternoon at Mr. Cues in Atlanta. It's a huge place and there's maybe two dozen tables going, all guys, throughout the room. They're playing piped in classic rock. Otherwise, not a sound, other than pool balls.

It's mid-afternoon and the next song that comes up on the sound system is "Roxanne" by The Police. There's that very distinctive opening set of repeating guitar chords and drum. And then... after the guitar chords and the drum stop... at just the right moment... half a dozen falsetto "Roxannes" emanate from all across the pool room.

Then, nothing but dead silence.

Sting goes on to sing about no red dress tonight.

And then, muted giggles pop out from across the pool room, as everyone realizes what had just happen :-)

Lou Figueroa
 
OK, OK, just one more.

Not my cue, but the guy I was playing...

At this one pool hall, the bathroom is right next to the 1pocket table. I was playing a guy named Brett, who had just gotten a very nice new SP. I think it may have been a Buss or Joss. Anywhos, we finish a game and Brett lays his cue down on the table to go to the bathroom. Only the cue ball and one other ball near a corner pocket are on the table. I'm sitting in a chair along with a bunch of rail birds sweating the match.

Hobbling along comes The Professor (not Grady) Bill Hendricks, the very nice gentleman who wrote "The History of Pool." He's up in age and moves pretty slowly and is making his way to the bathroom, when he sees the cue and balls and gets inspired. Suddenly, he picks up Brett's brand new shiny SP -- probably thinking it was a house cue -- and turns to those of us on the rail and says, "Have you guys ever seen this shot?"

Before anyone realizes what he's about to do, or explain it's not a house cue, or stop him, he grabs the butt of the cue with both hands and does the: running the cue ball down the long rail, using the shaft of the cue to send the cue ball around the table five rails, to make a ball in the jaws shot. (If you've seen this shot you know you basically have to use enough pressure to bend the shaft pretty good to rake the cue ball down the rail and put enough spin on the cue ball to get enough rails to make the shot.

He makes the shot, puts the cue down, and, in blissful ignorance continues his slow march to the bathroom.

We all looked at each other for a second, sort of just in shock at what we had just seen happen to a $300 SP, then burst out laughing and enjoyed telling Brett over and over again -- in excruciating detail -- what had just happen to his brand new cue :-)

Lou Figueroa
 
OK, OK, just one more.

Not my cue, but the guy I was playing...

At this one pool hall, the bathroom is right next to the 1pocket table. I was playing a guy named Brett, who had just gotten a very nice new SP. I think it may have been a Buss or Joss. Anywhos, we finish a game and Brett lays his cue down on the table to go to the bathroom. Only the cue ball and one other ball near a corner pocket are on the table. I'm sitting in a chair along with a bunch of rail birds sweating the match.

Hobbling along comes The Professor (not Grady) Bill Hendricks, the very nice gentleman who wrote "The History of Pool." He's up in age and moves pretty slowly and is making his way to the bathroom, when he sees the cue and balls and gets inspired. Suddenly, he picks up Brett's brand new shiny SP -- probably thinking it was a house cue -- and turns to those of us on the rail and says, "Have you guys ever seen this shot?"

Before anyone realizes what he's about to do, or explain it's not a house cue, or stop him, he grabs the butt of the cue with both hands and does the: running the cue ball down the long rail, using the shaft of the cue to send the cue ball around the table five rails, to make a ball in the jaws shot. (If you've seen this shot you know you basically have to use enough pressure to bend the shaft pretty good to rake the cue ball down the rail and put enough spin on the cue ball to get enough rails to make the shot.

He makes the shot, puts the cue down, and, in blissful ignorance continues his slow march to the bathroom.

We all looked at each other for a second, sort of just in shock at what we had just seen happen to a $300 SP, then burst out laughing and enjoyed telling Brett over and over again -- in excruciating detail -- what had just happen to his brand new cue :-)

Lou Figueroa


Lou - That reminds me of an "incident" at the golf table back @ 75 or so. The golf game was standard in the room, You could set your watch by it. Action on it from literally open to close ( and sometimes longer, depending ) 7 days a week. And some of that action got pretty rich from time to time, again, depending. So one night, they're playing 4 hand partners ( pretty much the standard ) with Harry betting Dino somewhere around 50 and 5 ( a HELLovalottamoney in 75 in a golf game ) and the other two much less, probably @10 and 2. So... there's a real "wannabe" hanging around the back, watching the game and trying to make conversation with anyone who'll reply to him. Which was few. VERY few. So, he decides ( and after it happened, we were all wanting to bet on what drugs he was on when he did it ) the board is messy and that the guys would *really* appreciate it if he "cleaned it up" a bit. And, maybe, if he did a good job and made it all "purty" someone would actually reply to him when he said something.

Now, in any given game, especially partners, and anytime after most of the four players are either on or past the 3 hole, the X's can get a bit crowded ( and this was *late* in the game ). As in LOTS of the little bastards ( the board was a school-type blackboard @ 4' x 4' with white chalk ). So there was probably ( at *least* ) 40 to 50 under each player's name. So Mr. Helper walks up and before anyone notices and even once they do, before they realize just what the F**K he's doing, he ERASES THE ENTIRE BOARD. Done. Gone. El Blanco El Chalkboard. Harry looks at him after scooping his chin off the floor and says, WTF!!!???!!!??? And Mr. Wannabe says, "Oh, no problemo, Harry. I counted them all in my head first. I'm just gonna clean it up for ya."

We were all up front at the counter and we're waiting for the sound of gunshots. At the very least. If not the sound of multiple chainsaws. Or at the very least, tire irons hard at work. We were DYING. It was one of the most shocking but at the same time *funniest* things we'd ever seen in the room. We really thought the four of them were gonna kill this guy. Wow... talk about your awkward moment. They let him have it verbally, for at least 15 minutes, Non-stop. Literally. He left and stayed gone for a month or more.
 
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I was at Snooker's poolroom in Tallahassee in the mid 90's visiting my friend Larry Knox, who owned the place. We were going to drive down together to Orlando to watch the ESPN World Championship being held at the ESPN nightclub at Disney World. I had been playing some cheap Bank Pool with a terrific banker named John Amos, who was the best in Northern Florida.

On the sidelines a very old Howard Barrett sat there watching us, hooked up to an oxygen tank. Larry took care of Howard and gave him a place to stay, and Howard took care of the house cues and did tips for some of the local players. In case you didn't know, Howard was an old school hustler, who was quite a player decades before. He was a regular in Johnston City and that's where I first saw him. Now he was in his late 70's or early 80's, in bad health, and never picked up a cue any more.

John and I started talking about the bank shot that Grady used to make where he put both balls on the side rail, a diamond apart, and then banked the object ball down and back into the corner pocket. It's a very difficult long rail bank to execute and you must hit it perfectly to make it. We both shot it several times with no luck. We just couldn't seem to get the right amount of English to take off the far end rail.

Howard is sitting there watching our futile attempts and finally pipes up, "Let me show you how to shoot it." Duh, I've been there four days now and have yet to see him get out of his comfy chair and even pick up a cue. He just sat there all day watching people play and maybe fixing a tip or two. Now he slowly rises to his feet, takes the oxygen tubes out of his nose, and ambles to the table. "Let me borrow that cue," and takes the cue out of my hand. He places the balls on the rail and and lowers himself into place. He takes a moment to get steady and takes one or two practice strokes and slams the ball up table, off the end rail and right back into the corner pocket! He hands me my cue and says, "That's how you do it," and slowly sits back down. John and I just stared in amazement. :eek:
 
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I was at Snooker's poolroom in Tallahassee in the mid 90's visiting my friend Larry Knox, who owned the place. We were going to drive down together to Orlando to watch the ESPN World Championship being held at the ESPN nightclub at Disney World. I had been playing some cheap Bank Pool with a terrific banker named John Amos, who was the best in Northern Florida.

On the sidelines a very old Howard Barrett sat there watching us, hooked up to an oxygen tank. Larry took care of Howard and gave him a place to stay, and Howard took care of the house cues and did tips for some of the local players. In case you didn't know, Howard was an old school hustler, who was quite a player decades before. He was a regular in Johnston City and that's where I first saw him. Now he was in his late 70's or early 80's, in bad health, and never picked up a cue any more.

John and I started talking about the bank shot that Grady used to make where he put both balls on the side rail, a diamond apart, and then banked the object ball down and back into the corner pocket. It's a very difficult long rail bank to execute and you must hit it perfectly to make it. We both shot it several times with no luck. We just couldn't seem to get the right amount of English to take off the far end rail.

Howard is sitting there watching our futile attempts and finally pipes up, "Let me show you how to shoot it." Duh, I've been there four days now and have yet to see him get out of his comfy chair and even pick up a cue. He just sat there all day watching people play and maybe fixing a tip or two. Now he slowly rises to his feet, takes the oxygen tubes out of his nose, and ambles to the table. "Let me borrow that cue," and takes the cue out of my hand. He places the balls on the rail and and lowers himself into place. He takes a moment to get steady and takes one or two practice strokes and slams the ball up table, off the end rail and right back into the corner pocket! He hands me my cue and says, "That's how you do it," and slowly sits back down. John and I just stared in amazement. :eek:

Jay - I won't even get started on it, but Howard was, in plain language, un FREAKING believable on so many levels. In the year and a half I was in Tally ( 74 - 75 ), I saw him *do* things and heard him *say* things I've never seen or heard, either before or since. He was an amazing person. To me, anyway...

I knew Larry very well also. I saw him every day for that entire time, in Pastime. His little brother, Mike and I were very good friends and we used to hang out all the time and even traveled around that area playing a bit. I saw Larry at a Seminole Tour stop in Holiday Fla, @ 5 years ago. He told me Mike had passed away some years earlier. I didn't ask for details and he didn't offer any. He actually walked up to me out of the crowd, didn't say anything, but just looked at me. I hadn't seen him since the mid to late 70s but once I looked at his face from close up, I said... "Larry?". And he said "Cleeerwahtah?" ( They all called me "Clearwater" in Pastime ). That was really strange. So we talked for @ half hour or so. I had no idea you know him. He was quite a shotmaker back in the day. And a lot of heart.
 
Jay - I won't even get started on it, but Howard was, in plain language, un FREAKING believable on so many levels. In the year and a half I was in Tally ( 74 - 75 ), I saw him *do* things and heard him *say* things I've never seen or heard, either before or since. He was an amazing person. To me, anyway...

I knew Larry very well also. I saw him every day for that entire time, in Pastime. His little brother, Mike and I were very good friends and we used to hang out all the time and even traveled around that area playing a bit. I saw Larry at a Seminole Tour stop in Holiday Fla, @ 5 years ago. He told me Mike had passed away some years earlier. I didn't ask for details and he didn't offer any. He actually walked up to me out of the crowd, didn't say anything, but just looked at me. I hadn't seen him since the mid to late 70s but once I looked at his face from close up, I said... "Larry?". And he said "Cleeerwahtah?" ( They all called me "Clearwater" in Pastime ). That was really strange. So we talked for @ half hour or so. I had no idea you know him. He was quite a shotmaker back in the day. And a lot of heart.

Larry was a good little shortstop and it took a good player to beat him. We met in Dayton many years before and went round and round playing 9-Ball, and I don't think we ever played again after that. His brother Kenny was a good pro golfer. In fact he won four times on the PGA tour! You got around pretty good yourself Michael, or should I say Clearwater. :thumbup:
 
Larry was a good little shortstop and it took a good player to beat him. We met in Dayton many years before and went round and round playing 9-Ball, and I don't think we ever played again after that. His brother Kenny was a good pro golfer. In fact he won four times on the PGA tour! You got around pretty good yourself Michael, or should I say Clearwater. :thumbup:

Boy howdy, Jay, but was Larry proud of Kenny. He would go on and on and on and onnnnn... And, as you said, justifiably so. It isn't easy to win on the PGA, let alone multiple times. Larry would really beam talking about him.

Me? Got around? *cough*. I couldn't hold your *atlas*, Mr. Helfert, sir. :grin:
 
Star Michaud....a shoeshine boy who grew up to become a barbershop-poolhall owner in
Hull, Quebec....George Chenier said he was one of the best two money players he ever saw....
...Marcel Campe being the other one.

Well, Star also became the biggest bookie in the Capital area.....
...and many players came to take a shot at his money....50s and 60s.

So a guy named Freddie Rousseau came up from Montreal...he was Canadian champ...
...he was rated about 15 points over Star at snooker.
When he walked into Star’s room, Star was giving someone 100 points at snooker...
...and the guy quit Star a big loser.
...so Freddie says to Star that he never seen a man shoot that well....
...figured he needed 100 points also.
Star told him that he didn’t know him at all...but he would play him that way...
...ONE game if he bet all his money.....Freddy put every dime he had up.
Star made a few points and then snookered Freddie...Freddy sold out...
...Star ran out...100+.....gave him bus fare back to Montreal.
 
Star Michaud....a shoeshine boy who grew up to become a barbershop-poolhall owner in
Hull, Quebec....George Chenier said he was one of the best two money players he ever saw....
...Marcel Campe being the other one.

Well, Star also became the biggest bookie in the Capital area.....
...and many players came to take a shot at his money....50s and 60s.

So a guy named Freddie Rousseau came up from Montreal...he was Canadian champ...
...he was rated about 15 points over Star at snooker.
When he walked into Star’s room, Star was giving someone 100 points at snooker...
...and the guy quit Star a big loser.
...so Freddie says to Star that he never seen a man shoot that well....
...figured he needed 100 points also.
Star told him that he didn’t know him at all...but he would play him that way...
...ONE game if he bet all his money.....Freddy put every dime he had up.
Star made a few points and then snookered Freddie...Freddy sold out...
...Star ran out...100+.....gave him bus fare back to Montreal.


And, so much for being a National Champion... in someone else's room. ;)
 
Been on both ends of that stick!

And, so much for being a National Champion... in someone else's room. ;)

I have played guys that were also ran everywhere but on their "home" table. Play them on that table and they jumped about two balls! The worse shape the table was in the bigger the advantage.

My "home field" was a little bar a mile or two from my house, not far above the airport. I noticed my speed was a little off there, danged if I knew why! I finally figured out that the light from the side was about as strong as the pool table light and as a result the balls seemed to be sitting just a little to the side of where they were, maybe 1/32" or less. Most shots it didn't matter, once in awhile it did. Easy to make the adjustment, once you figured out you needed to. Road players were getting steered at me from Greenway so I didn't feel any need to explain the light to them, most I didn't mention the dead spot in a rail of one table to.

Home field advantage is big and the more you believe in it the bigger it is!

Hu
 
I have played guys that were also ran everywhere but on their "home" table. Play them on that table and they jumped about two balls! The worse shape the table was in the bigger the advantage.

My "home field" was a little bar a mile or two from my house, not far above the airport. I noticed my speed was a little off there, danged if I knew why! I finally figured out that the light from the side was about as strong as the pool table light and as a result the balls seemed to be sitting just a little to the side of where they were, maybe 1/32" or less. Most shots it didn't matter, once in awhile it did. Easy to make the adjustment, once you figured out you needed to. Road players were getting steered at me from Greenway so I didn't feel any need to explain the light to them, most I didn't mention the dead spot in a rail of one table to.

Home field advantage is big and the more you believe in it the bigger it is!

Hu

True that! I always played a full speed better on the #1 table in my own poolroom. I beat a lot of good players on my home court that I wouldn't play anywhere else. :)
 
Lou - That reminds me of an "incident" at the golf table back @ 75 or so. The golf game was standard in the room, You could set your watch by it. Action on it from literally open to close ( and sometimes longer, depending ) 7 days a week. And some of that action got pretty rich from time to time, again, depending. So one night, they're playing 4 hand partners ( pretty much the standard ) with Harry betting Dino somewhere around 50 and 5 ( a HELLovalottamoney in 75 in a golf game ) and the other two much less, probably @10 and 2. So... there's a real "wannabe" hanging around the back, watching the game and trying to make conversation with anyone who'll reply to him. Which was few. VERY few. So, he decides ( and after it happened, we were all wanting to bet on what drugs he was on when he did it ) the board is messy and that the guys would *really* appreciate it if he "cleaned it up" a bit. And, maybe, if he did a good job and made it all "purty" someone would actually reply to him when he said something.

Now, in any given game, especially partners, and anytime after most of the four players are either on or past the 3 hole, the X's can get a bit crowded ( and this was *late* in the game ). As in LOTS of the little bastards ( the board was a school-type blackboard @ 4' x 4' with white chalk ). So there was probably ( at *least* ) 40 to 50 under each player's name. So Mr. Helper walks up and before anyone notices and even once they do, before they realize just what the F**K he's doing, he ERASES THE ENTIRE BOARD. Done. Gone. El Blanco El Chalkboard. Harry looks at him after scooping his chin off the floor and says, WTF!!!???!!!??? And Mr. Wannabe says, "Oh, no problemo, Harry. I counted them all in my head first. I'm just gonna clean it up for ya."

We were all up front at the counter and we're waiting for the sound of gunshots. At the very least. If not the sound of multiple chainsaws. Or at the very least, tire irons hard at work. We were DYING. It was one of the most shocking but at the same time *funniest* things we'd ever seen in the room. We really thought the four of them were gonna kill this guy. Wow... talk about your awkward moment. They let him have it verbally, for at least 15 minutes, Non-stop. Literally. He left and stayed gone for a month or more.


lol. Good story, Michael.

I used to play three-handed 1pocket ("Widows") and we used a chalk board to keep track. I can just imagine the chaos that would ensue if someone, especially a newb, erased the board.

Lou Figueroa
 
lol. Good story, Michael.

I used to play three-handed 1pocket ("Widows") and we used a chalk board to keep track. I can just imagine the chaos that would ensue if someone, especially a newb, erased the board.

Lou Figueroa

It was classic, Lou... I will never forget that as long as I live. :grin:
 
Back in the early 90 a buddy of mine had been somewhere I have no idea where and he was on his way back home when he stopped at a little country store to get some gas. Fills up the car and goes inside to pay when he notices a valley bar box in the back corner. 3 or 4 guys are sitting around, nobody playing. My buddy being a strong A player says " anybody around here play for money". One guy answers no we don't but hang on we know somebody who might.

The guy walks across the road and flags down a guy on a tractor plowing a field. The guy pulls his tractor over to the store gets off wearing overalls no shirt no shoes and proceeds to rob my buddy then goes back to plowing the field.
 
While in law enforcement in the late 80s, I was involved in a vehicle chase one evening with a fellow who side swiped another car going down the road. The chase goes on for about 6-8 minutes and we are headed back into a metro area where it's going to get busy.

I'm giving the vehicle a little room and then out of the blue, the vehicle pulls into a bar/restaurant that I am somewhat familiar with. I pull around back and go in through the kitchen (in case he tried to go out the back)

I get into the main area where there are 3 pool tables and many people playing. I'm standing there looking around for anyone intentionally NOT making eye contact with me. Everyone is playing it pretty cool.

I look on the board and noticed that there was a 9-ball tournament going on and am still watching everyone. A few people were looking at me and then looking at a particular table.

I start watching that table and noticed the player shoot his 6 ball, then 7 ball and then 8 ball and then walks over and shakes the hand of another player leaving the 9 ball on the table.

I go up and arrest him without incident. In the car he asked if somewhat ratted on him and I said "no, you were just playing the wrong game tonight"
 
Back in the early 90 a buddy of mine had been somewhere I have no idea where and he was on his way back home when he stopped at a little country store to get some gas. Fills up the car and goes inside to pay when he notices a valley bar box in the back corner. 3 or 4 guys are sitting around, nobody playing. My buddy being a strong A player says " anybody around here play for money". One guy answers no we don't but hang on we know somebody who might.

The guy walks across the road and flags down a guy on a tractor plowing a field. The guy pulls his tractor over to the store gets off wearing overalls no shirt no shoes and proceeds to rob my buddy then goes back to plowing the field.

I would love to hear the farmers version of this story.
 
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