This thread is about you getting paid when you just knew in your heart of hearts that getting paid is something that most likely, wasn't going to happen.
NOSTROKE's post about getting paid reminded me of this story I tell periodically. If you've heard it on the forum, my bad.
San Francisco Charlie was a retired police officer, a black man, who lived in Belize, South America but who frequented the infamous Sport Palace of New Orleans.
Charlie LOVED gambling at one pocket and while he was never played top speed, he was a formidable opponent and what made him stand out from most everyone else was HE ALWAYS HAD MONEY to gamble with. Charlie and I played one pocket almost every time he visited New Orleans which was probably a couple of times a year.
I had gambled with Charlie off and one for a couple of years and this particular time, we were playing for $30 a game. Charlie was notorious for losing all of his cash. While Charlie had beaten me for the dough on occasion, I always felt like even though it was a close game, I could win and more often than not, I did. I won all of the dough Charlie had with him which was maybe two or three hundred dollars. Charlie paid me all except for $60 and he ASKED me if it would be all right for him to pay me at a later date. I was so happy that I had made a good score (80's) in my early career of one pocket, I said "SURE", knowing deep down that I would most likely never see that $60. Charlie would disappear for months at a time and sometimes years and I had not heard from Charlie for a few months, nor did anyone else.
One day, Earl Heisler, the owner of "THE PALACE" walked up to me and handed me three twenties and said Charlie had SENT the money to him and that Charlie had asked for Earl to make sure I got the $60. At the time I was so blown-away, I could hardly speak. Charlie could easily had stiffed me permanently but apparently it just wasn't his way. I've had people pay me back debts a little here and a little there and once in a blue moon, all at one time but I have never had anyone pay back a debt from another country, let alone a pool player. Charlie may have passed away by now but he was and will always be one of the most positive examples of a gambling pool enthusiast that ever passed through my life. I'll never forget his honesty, his gamble or his idiosyncracies.
One of his idiosyncracies was the eight ball. We all knew Charlie HATED the eight ball and if a ball had to be spotted and the eight ball was in the pocket, every one of us would dig in the pocket like mining drillers until we put our hands on and pulled out the eight ball to be spotted. Almost ALWAYS, Charlie would miss the eight ball spot shot. Put up any other ball and it fell. The eight ball was a self-imposed curse for Charlie but he never complained about our shrewd and mean-spirited ways. I guess I am a little embarassed about my actions but it is how I learned to gamble, taking every edge I could get.
Speaking of edges, if the GingerBread Man hasn't been playing any pool lately, I am ready for some hundred dollar one pocket.
NOSTROKE's post about getting paid reminded me of this story I tell periodically. If you've heard it on the forum, my bad.
San Francisco Charlie was a retired police officer, a black man, who lived in Belize, South America but who frequented the infamous Sport Palace of New Orleans.
Charlie LOVED gambling at one pocket and while he was never played top speed, he was a formidable opponent and what made him stand out from most everyone else was HE ALWAYS HAD MONEY to gamble with. Charlie and I played one pocket almost every time he visited New Orleans which was probably a couple of times a year.
I had gambled with Charlie off and one for a couple of years and this particular time, we were playing for $30 a game. Charlie was notorious for losing all of his cash. While Charlie had beaten me for the dough on occasion, I always felt like even though it was a close game, I could win and more often than not, I did. I won all of the dough Charlie had with him which was maybe two or three hundred dollars. Charlie paid me all except for $60 and he ASKED me if it would be all right for him to pay me at a later date. I was so happy that I had made a good score (80's) in my early career of one pocket, I said "SURE", knowing deep down that I would most likely never see that $60. Charlie would disappear for months at a time and sometimes years and I had not heard from Charlie for a few months, nor did anyone else.
One day, Earl Heisler, the owner of "THE PALACE" walked up to me and handed me three twenties and said Charlie had SENT the money to him and that Charlie had asked for Earl to make sure I got the $60. At the time I was so blown-away, I could hardly speak. Charlie could easily had stiffed me permanently but apparently it just wasn't his way. I've had people pay me back debts a little here and a little there and once in a blue moon, all at one time but I have never had anyone pay back a debt from another country, let alone a pool player. Charlie may have passed away by now but he was and will always be one of the most positive examples of a gambling pool enthusiast that ever passed through my life. I'll never forget his honesty, his gamble or his idiosyncracies.
One of his idiosyncracies was the eight ball. We all knew Charlie HATED the eight ball and if a ball had to be spotted and the eight ball was in the pocket, every one of us would dig in the pocket like mining drillers until we put our hands on and pulled out the eight ball to be spotted. Almost ALWAYS, Charlie would miss the eight ball spot shot. Put up any other ball and it fell. The eight ball was a self-imposed curse for Charlie but he never complained about our shrewd and mean-spirited ways. I guess I am a little embarassed about my actions but it is how I learned to gamble, taking every edge I could get.
Speaking of edges, if the GingerBread Man hasn't been playing any pool lately, I am ready for some hundred dollar one pocket.
