I Love POOL. Stories of how you get sucked in?

KoolKat9Lives

KoolKat9Lives

Taught 'em all I know
Silver Member
Mom and Dad got me a Sears (or was it the top of a Coleman Cooler) 5 foot table at 8 years old (It might have been a cardboard slate). I was enthralled. For at least 2 weeks. Then was ping pong, HO cars race, Estes rockets... But without EVEN knowing it, the pool seed had been planted.

At 15 years of age, I learned how to forge my step-father's signature. My High Fool (School) was schooled - I didn't attend much having 76 sick days a year ;). Anyway, some Brunswick bowling alley in King of Prussia, PA, a 3 mile crowfly walk (through backyards and woods) I'd trundle. They had 4 GC II's! I learned how to play a bit. I was schooled a few times...

AND THEN...

I got my first car at 16. '67 Malibu. Somehow, I learned of a match forthcoming between a very young Allen Hopkins going up against The Miz. This is the winter of '74/75. It was my FIRST week with my own car! WoooHoo!!

My best buddy and I took off to a South Philly - "a real pool hall". Directions lead us to a pretty sketchy looking joint.

Young and naive, we proceeded. We walked up the stairs. Smoke everywhere. Walking tentative, wide eyed. They're must have been 12-16 tables. I don't know if any but one table was about to be in use. The impression it made upon me? Surreal. Abundant darkness - less the low hanging lights affording looks into faces of unknown scary, large, drooling, smiling people. Upon each each face was an individual etched with a unique roadmap of character. Allen, Steve, myself and my pal Eddie, may have been the only white people there.

Well... Allen tortured Miz (RIP) that night in a 9 ball match (push out). I was too naive to gauge how much what was on the light, much less on the rail. I suspect it was HUGE - now that I think I know what I think I know.

The match over, Allen made quick paces out... Steve muttering... He snapped his case shut hard and stomped away.


It was THEN, the seed was planted further. I bought a cue from their glass display rack after that match; the one I play to this day.

I've once again gone back as the moth to the flame yet again. Yet... this time as a man more aware. I have embraced the good in all that pool offers.

If you might share with us - was there a defining moment story that planted your indelible seed?
 
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I can clearly remember playing pool at my aunt & uncle's bar when I wasn't even tall enough to see over the table, I had to stand on a milk crate! I've been hooked ever since.....
 
I grew up in Sacramento and me and my buddies used to hang out at the pool halls because they were 24 hours. I never hit a ball until I was 21 and had already moved to Seattle.I played with a friend a game and got beat pretty bad. My cue didn't even have a tip on it and I didn't even notice haha. Anyways...for some reason i got hooked and have been a true pool freak ever since.
 
I have told the story many times now

I hit the bars a day or two after getting my license, a day or two after turning fifteen! Pool was played for money, a beer, or a mixed drink. Trying to remember the princely sum I was making at the time, but I'm pretty sure it was around seventy-five cents an hour, maybe less. Family business so the minimum wage of $1.25 didn't have to be paid to me. My interests in the pool tables were two-fold, first I was extremely competitive and the idea of being that lousy at anything was more than I could stand, and I wanted other people to pay for my partying.

It was probably six months before I was breaking even playing bad bar room bangers. Somewhere along there I got a Sears and Roebuck home eight foot table with fake slate and I discovered my second home for years to come, Shoppers Pool Hall. By the end of a year the cash flow was definitely towards me although I was largely clubbing baby seals in bars. Another year or so and I was a smoothed out gambler who would do just enough to ease the money out of the pockets of whomever I was playing. Not that I never lost, just always won a lot more than I lost moving from place to place as was possible then. I rarely booked a losing night.

That was the pattern until horses and then a wife and family took me away from pool in my mid-twenties. By that time I sometimes started a three day or so road trip with only a twenty dollar bill in my pocket and a full tank of gas just to prove I could. Of course things were a wee bit cheaper back then but if I planned on eating or sleeping in a bed I had to make it on a pool table. I often had a few thousand stashed at home but if I headed out with too much cash the urge to party could outrun the urge to play pool and I might spend my own money. Had a lot of fun but I have to admit that getting married is probably the only reason I am around today. I wasn't living a lifestyle likely to give myself any gray hair.

Hu
 
Super long story here, but this is how I was introduced to pool. You asked... :)

I went to college at Colorado School of Mines on a full scholarship. Had a great future ahead of me. I decided to join the ski team. Great idea, since I was from Texas, and I had gone skiing twice in my life. :)

Trained all summer, running 10 miles a day, doing stair runs, and lots of squats, and for once in my life, I had a nice six-pack going.

During my second Giant Slalom practice of the season, I went right off the edge of a cliff. Fell 20 feet or so, and landed on the back of my head. Major concussion (TBI). I was out cold for about 4 hours.

I forgot how to brush my teeth. Didn't know my roommates' names. Had to drink through a straw for six months. Metallurgical Engineering was no longer a feasible option.

Hard times, for sure. Took me at least three years to get back to about 90% functionality.

Anyway, on a Saturday, about a week after the accident, I took a fine young woman named Stephanie out on a date. It was about 28 degrees and snowing that night.

We went to check out the new Warren Miller ski movie in Boulder (about 45 minutes away). It was great. But when the credits started rolling, and the lights started coming up, I had no idea where I was. No idea at all. I totally freaked out. I followed the crowd to the parking garage, and, thankfully, found my truck. I just wanted to get home.

I drove down the exit ramps of the garage, and stopped at the street. As I was just about to pull away, some crazy lady runs up to my truck, and starts banging on the window. She's screaming at me, but I didn't have time to deal with crazies. I just wanted to get home. I peeled out and started the drive home.

Later, I'm hanging out in my dorm, kinda bored, so at about 1 AM, I decide I'm going to see what Stephanie is up to. I walk over to her room and knock on the door.

Her roommate answers, and I ask if Stephanie is there. I was informed that Stephanie was with me earlier, and hasn't been back home.

Uh-oh.

As it turns out, that was Stephanie banging on my window in the parking garage. I left her there, literally "in the cold," for about 4 hours.

By then, my RA had left to pick her up. I was waiting outside when they returned, and I felt like the worst person on Earth.

She was cool, though. She knew what had happened, and actually helped me get appointments with the neurologist and cognitive therapist. She even called my Mom and told her how serious it was. Class act. Wish I could have married that girl.

Anyway...

Fast forward a few years. Some high school friends of mine invited me to join them at Texas A&M and take up a vacant room in their rented house. I enrolled and went back to college, happy to be back on track.

What I didn't know is that they were major pot heads, and they had a sizable dealing operation running in the house.

I have nothing against smoking pot, but it was clearly not good for my particular situation.

So...

I found out that there was a nice and quiet little pool hall about a block away. It was called "The Cue" but I don't know if it's still there. I walked there every day, and spent all my time studying there. I just couldn't be around all that pot.

Sure enough, I had to take some breaks from studying. The owner had offered me free table time since I was always there anyway, and I had always spent money on Dr Peppers and food.

I batted some balls around at first, but I knew right away that I would have to learn this game. I had no idea what I was getting into.

I bought a book called Precision Pool, by Shari Stauch and Gerry Kanov. As time went by, I found myself reading that book more than my textbooks.

Later that year, I met a nice young man from China, named Hai, whose cousin was some hotshot snooker champ. He taught me so much. He introduced me to Emre, a 3C player from Turkey. Not long after, I met Alvaro from Nicaragua, a brilliant pool player.

We played together all the time, and I learned so much from them. Within a year, I was running racks, and I was totally hooked on the beautiful games of pool and billiards. I even had a couple of respectable hustling stories along the way (which are reserved for a future post).

Fast forward again... 15 years later...

I have a Diamond Pro 9' in my living room, I've been to Vegas five times, I have several slow motion pool videos out there, I practice several hours per day, spend way too much time here on AZB (but I love it), and I was league MVP last season (42-6 record this session). Like most of you, I'm in too deep.

Still no college degree. :)

I wouldn't trade my experiences for the world.

-Blake
 
SloMoHolic said:
I bought a book called Precision Pool, by Shari Stauch and Gerry Kanov. As time went by, I found myself reading that book more than my textbooks.
Click to expand...

Great story. I also bought Precision Pool when I first started to play.
It was a great intro book into pool.
 
In my younger days, I was traveling across Europe with a pool cue slung across my back.

Late one night as I was walking and getting tired, I stumbled into a bar in a small village close to the Romanian border.

The bar, pool hall was filled with nothing but small people, midgets. Very quickly after sitting at the bar, I was offered a game of pool for money.

I accepted but found it hard to play as the legs of the tables were cut off, making it a bit difficult as I had to play standing on my knees. Every so often, I would have to get up to give my knees a break, so I would get up and go over to the bar for another drink.

The first time I got up, I found it hard to walk. I looked down and had 2 midgets, one humping on each leg. I kicked each off and thought, great, homosexual pool playing midgets.

After a couple or 3 hours of playing pool, I had exhausted most of them out of their money, finished up my beer and turned to leave.

Well, they had formed a line blocking my exit and were gnashing their teeth really loud.

I thought , great, homosexual pool playing midget vampires. They are going to make my neck and my bum hurt at the same time.

I had to think fast, I took my pool cue out of the case, made a dash for the exit, planted the pool cue on the floor and pole vaulted over top of them. I hit the door running and never looked back.

I tell ya, it was the last time I played pool anywhere close to Romania.

True story.
 
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I first played pool in Wilmington,NC at a pool hall that used to put baby powder in salt shakers! :eek:

i didn't have a clue how to hold a cue and was heckled bc i had a good physique at that age but hit the break like i was using the brush end of a broom.

anyways when i turned 21 i moved overseas to Guam. That was where i fell in love with the game. I almost got hustled by a girl who eventually became my exgf. Out there pool halls are the greatest hang out spots next to night clubs. Packed every night with Phillipino pool players and girls galore.

i used to go every other night and then i made friends with a group of pool players who played 9-5 ring games for money. We would sometimes end up playing 8 or 9 ppl deep.

Coming back to the states i started playing more seriously. I got bit hard by the bug. It still becomes an obsession or addiction to me to master the game. I've probably spent more money in table time then it takes to own a pool hall.

I almost got hustled by "the Mexican" or "Mago" as he's known by today. I must say He is the reason i'm stuck to the game. Watching the way he plays pool really is an art. I can only think of two players who i think have unique strokes and that's his and the great Buddy Hall. Seeing his defensive safety play is also what got me so hooked. I've been trying eversince to create my own style in pool.

Pool was definitely a perfect fit for an introvert like myself bc only in pool are you admired for being quiet and focused all the time. In social settings it makes you look stuck up and serious.

I love everything about pool. The good and the bad. Pool to me is a true reflection of who you are deep down inside. The table never changes but yet offers variables. When its your turn to shoot, your true self comes out. If you get upset and play poorly, i say that you are emotionally unaware. If you take a shot that feels uncomfortable, i say that you are the type to make careless choices even though you know the right choice. The pool table is THE TRUTH in my opinion. Thats why i frequent it so often to remind myself.
 
My parents dragged us boys (I was the oldest, about 7 at the time) to a friend's house for an all night poker party. We ran back and forth to the bar getting drinks for the grownups (drinking the dregs of Harvey Wallbangers on the way). Fell asleep under the pool table; I heard my Dad playing the host and got up to watch. At some point they handed me a cue and I nailed a cross-side bank. At their urging, I did it again, three times in a row, from slightly different angles. Their reaction planted the seed.

Fast forward to junior high school, a delinquent buddy and I would hop the fence every day at lunch and run over to a tavern that had two Brunswick 5x10 tables...beer stains and rips in the cloth, 15 cents a game (paid on the bar). The average age in there was about 70, and dominos was all they played.

At West Point, every company day room had a nice GC...played quite a bit there. Then, after graduation, I watched the Color of Money with some buddies, we went straight to a pool hall. Bought a McDermott cue from the owner and I've never been the same. For the next 5 years, I played at least 6 hours a day EVERY DAY. Got married, had a kid and it's been a challenge ever since...Now that my boy's off to college, she's gonna let me put a Diamond ProAm in the garage this Summer. I doubt she'll ever see me again.
 
I was 15 and in 10th grade. My friends said hey lets go to Pegs Pocket, all the spartanettes (my high school cheerleaders) go there! So we walk into Pegs and sure enough there is a group of kids from my school there in the corner playing on gandy 4x8s. I sat with them for a bit but then I noticed over on the other side of the room they had a crowd watching this game. I walked over to see what was going on. John Ditoro was playing Tommy Brown straight pool for $100. I didnt know all this of course, I just was told they were playing for a $100 and I sat there trying to figure out what game they were playing. I was mesmerized with the way both players were moving the cueball around and effortlessly pocketing balls over and over again.

My buddy walked over and said hey we are going to leave soon. I told him sit down here and watch these guys play. Its incredible! He wasnt bitten and was instead still watching to see if this blonde spartanette he was interested in was looking at him at any moment. They made me leave and while the discussion in the car was all about the girls, I was thinking about pool.

The next day I rode my bike back to pegs 3 mile ride and no easy chore in Miami. I sat in that room and watched all the daytime players matching up and playing.

I was blessed with the fact that in the early 80s, Pegs Pocket was a fantastic pool room, with dozens of regulars that would consistently match up. When I was 17 and 18 I would regularly be playing sets for 50 and 100 on a daily basis. One summer I think me and my buddy Al Noel went to the pool room every day for three months straight.

I got to see Richie ambrose come in and get beat by Tommy Brown. I saw CJ Wiley come in with Strong Arm John and play Tommy for two days. They left loser on that trip but I heard that CJ came back a few years later and made a nice score against the locals who were backing Mario Cruz. Road players didnt seem to make the trek all the way to south dade county that much, but when they did they always seemed to find their way to Pegs Pocket.
 
Here's my standard answer:
__________________________________________________ ________

I think I was 9 or 10. (that would be 1976 or 1977) I went with my Dad to pick up my sister at the Masonic Temple. She was waiting at the Temple in a rec. room playing 8-ball on this 9' table. I'd never really played before but was fascinated by the click of the balls. Neither my sister nor her friend had a clue as to what they were doing, but occasionally, one of them would catch a ball just right. The ball would hit the leather pocket with that wonderful *thwap* sound.

My sister let my father and me play a bit before we went home. For a guy who never plays, my dad has some obvious natural talent. My father only knew one game: rotation. So that was the first game that I knew as far as rules go.


In that first magical rack, I couldn't make a straight shot to save my life.
I was able to make all of two balls: a bank on the 5, and a kick on the 13. ( I don't know about the coincidence that both these balls are orange) My father apparently feeling no need to praise his young son on these
accomplishments rewarded me with "lucky shot" on each.


And such was the spark that lit my burning desire. I never wanted to hear
him tell me "lucky shot" again. Gee, dad. Thanks.


----------------------------------------------------
 
I like the OP had a table at home when I was a kid. A cheap non slate table, most likely from sears with a ping pong table surface that sat on top. I was to short at the time to effectively use a cue but I enjoyed rolling the balls around the table by hand. Little did I know I was learning the basics of banking back then, but what I really enjoyed was the ping pong.
The playing surface was so bad on that thing that we only used the ping pong top after a while. I got pretty good at it too.

As I got older I got into baseball and forgot about our table in the basement. I was in my early teens when my baseball team had advanced to the state finals. We were in Jefferson City at a tournament and we had the day off from baseball. I went with some of my teammates to a bowling alley to hang out and play video games. (this would have been around 1984) Anyhow, it turns out that they were having a small juniors pool tournament, 12-16 years old only I think. I decided I would give it a try and managed to come in 3rd which wasn't really that good because no one in that tournament could play a lick including me!

So now I was interested again. We got a better table and I began playing at home a lot, then I would go to a local hang out and play against other kids my age until I got good enough to beat them regularly.

My brother, who was 4 years older than me, was my idol. By this time he was 20 years old and playing in a pool league at the local pool hall. He said I could go with him on one condition, I had to drive us back home. He said he would pay for my table time as long as I played chauffeur. It was during this time that I played my first money game.

A old man walked up to me and asked if I wanted to play. I said sure and as he racked the balls he said "How much"? Lol, how much what I asked. He said he only plays for money. I explained that I didn't have much on me and that I was just here to play for fun. He talked me into playing for 50 cents and proceeded to run the table and take my money.

My brother saw what happened and came over to me and asked how much I lost. When I told him he laughed and said, "Well, look at it this way, you just paid for lessons." That was the very moment I became committed to this game. I wanted to be able to run all the balls off the table with ease like he did to me that night. I also wanted a little revenge and eventually I got it.

I managed to win my money back....all 50 cents and a bit more!
 
Masonic Temple pool!

Cornerman said:
Here's my standard answer:
__________________________________________________ ________

I think I was 9 or 10. (that would be 1976 or 1977) I went with my Dad to pick up my sister at the Masonic Temple. She was waiting at the Temple in a rec. room playing 8-ball on this 9' table. I'd never really played before but was fascinated by the click of the balls. Neither my sister nor her friend had a clue as to what they were doing, but occasionally, one of them would catch a ball just right. The ball would hit the leather pocket with that wonderful *thwap* sound.

My sister let my father and me play a bit before we went home. For a guy who never plays, my dad has some obvious natural talent. My father only knew one game: rotation. So that was the first game that I knew as far as rules go.


In that first magical rack, I couldn't make a straight shot to save my life.
I was able to make all of two balls: a bank on the 5, and a kick on the 13. ( I don't know about the coincidence that both these balls are orange) My father apparently feeling no need to praise his young son on these
accomplishments rewarded me with "lucky shot" on each.


And such was the spark that lit my burning desire. I never wanted to hear
him tell me "lucky shot" again. Gee, dad. Thanks.


----------------------------------------------------
Click to expand...

I too played at a Masonic Temple (told the story previously on AZ), when I was 12. But my intro to pool was watching my dad play in a bar when I was 10. And like you, the action of the balls, the "clack" when clay meets clay, and the geometry absolutely fascinated me...I was a "monster" bumper pool player before my thirteenth birthday!
 
Mis-spent youth

Got started in high school, playing other teenagers a quarter a game in North Dakota - a lot of 9 ball and straight pool.

Another high school with the only table at a monastery reachable only by hitchhiking 15 miles. Throughout the dead of winter, played for hours at a time on weekends with only Willie Mosconi's book for company.

Into the Air Force, playing 6, 7, 8 player 9 Ball with money on the 5 and 9. Table time on Air Force bases in Texas, Louisiana, then Taiwan (hustled by a lot of cute Chinese girl players), Thailand, Virginia, Oklahoma, and a half-dozen States all over the Midwest and West.

A wasted youth, but good times, good memories ....
 
Johnnyt 08-12-2012 11:08 AM

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The Hustler Gets Hustled

. I always prided myself on not ever getting hustled bad in all my playing days.
One weekday I had just opened, and was practicing on the billiard table when this guy
walks in. He was over six-foot tall and dressed in painter’s clothes and walked with a limp. He smelled of cheap wine. He watched me play billiards for a few minutes before he asked if I wanted to play for two dollars a game and loser pays for the time for the table. I told him it was slow now and I could play but if I got busy I would have to quit. He said he understood and we played. I played him two games of a race to fifteen point’s wins. I beat him both games easy. The score was four to fifteen and six to fifteen. He paid me and paid for our time on the table and thanked me for the games and left.

The next day this same guy came in at about the same time dressed the same and
smelling the same asking if I had time to play a few. I said yes. We played two games and again I beat him three to fifteen and six to fifteen. He came in everyday for the rest of the week and we played with the same result. I didn’t see him on the weekend and had forgotten about him by Monday. Sure enough at a little after one in the afternoon on Monday in he comes. He said he had hit the daily double at Belmont Park Saturday for four hundred and sixty dollars. He said he always played the one-two combo in the double and it came in. I followed the horses in the paper so I knew that the one-two had come in like he said and paid four-sixty for a two- dollar bet. He said he was on a lucky streak and would I play him for twenty a game instead of the two dollars we had been playing for. I felt a bit guilty. But said I would. I figured I would beat him for twenty or forty dollars and he would quit and that would end it.

The first game I beat him eleven to fifteen. Before the next game he asked if I would
raise the bet to forty a game. I said yes and beat him ten to fifteen. The next two games he won thirteen to fifteen and twelve to fifteen and said he was getting use to the table now. He then asked if I wanted to up the bet to eighty a game. I said why not make it a hundred a game? He agreed and we played five more games with him winning four of them. Then we played another five games and he won four of them. By now I am a little rattled that I am letting this chump beat me for some serious money. At this point he says today is his last day painting in this area and would not see me for awhile. Thinking I wouldn’t get a chance to get even after today, I say how about making it two hundred a game. I figured he would say no, but he said sure.

We played five more games at two hundred each and he won them all. I said I was broke
then. He then says to me. I will play you for your stick against my three hundred. Well my cue was a nice one, but not worth three hundred to me. In fact I won it in a pool game for payment of fifty-five dollars. I said yes and we played. He won nine to fifteen. I gave him the cue and we said our good-byes and he left.

About two minutes after he left one of my regular customers came in as I was sitting at
the counter licking my wounds.
The customer says to me “I hope you didn’t play the guy that just left here for money”.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he was the New England Three-Cushion Billiard Champ”.

To this day only a handful of people know that the hustler got hustled for more than two
thousand -dollars and my cue stick. The moral of the story being, yes you can hustle a hustler.

The first rule of making money in pool is in knowing how well you play. This means
to be honest with yourself. Most pool players get beat by thinking they are better than they really are. If they get a little lucky along the way, that only makes it worse next time. Because now they think they won on skill. That’s a big mistake there. If you’re honest with yourself you won’t play people over your head. It makes no sense playing someone just as good or better than you are for money. Like they say theirs no money in that.

From Hustling Under The Radar by John W. Terrell
 
Wow Blake really interesting back story to how you got in

Glad you are alright

I was working at a Sports Bar in Southern California that had a table

Would play after bar close with some of the regulars and employees

I got hooked then joined an APA team and local tournaments around my area
 
I got started by a random trip (not really I was ducking the cops) up a set of 100 year old stairs. I can remember the clatter of balls and a big game happening on the main action table. Just so happens my cousin was the best player in town and I was unaware of it until that night. The tables in the place were put there in 1941 by the man running the room. Mosconi and Lassiter and about every great came through the doors of that room. There are still dense ciggarrette burns on the hardwood floors underneath the tables( which have been changed to diamonds and a young crowd now gathers there to play on the bar boxes. I financed my first cue and the owner kept it in a locker I rented. You could take 30$ and order a 300$ cue. He knew you would come to play even more with a new cue in the locker
Man do miss those days. If nothing else we would play golf or 31
 
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