And so the fat lady sings. In fact, starting off at a 2-8 deficit, everyone had been pretty much listening to her warming up since Tuesday and were sending in song requests.
Wednesday morning, on the way to the arena, I stop at the Mirage coffee shop and join Bob Jewett for breakfast. We talk of our favorite arias, the coming concert, and wonder aloud what our tickets for Thursday's scheduled Mosconi Cup might bring on eBay. We decide: not much.
In the arena, rIght out of the gate things continue their slide into perdition, with Earl and Hatch losing 3-6.
On the next Ring of Hell was Earl in full melt down mode against Karl Boyles. Earl is chittering away to Karl, the crowd, and to his own inner demons. Referee, Ken Shuman, admonishes Earl that he's had enough.
Then at one point, after a particularly poor shot, Earl lashes out and instantaneous does grievous injury to the seven foot Zulu spear he uses as a cue.
But wait... it gets better.
On his next turn at the table the funniest moment of the MC occurs. Earl gets down on his shot and suddenly stands up. He then brings his weapon up to his eye and sights down the length of the cue. Earl's cue whacking has put a serious swarp into his cue and now he must put the butt of the cue onto the floor and try and bend the shaft as close to straight as his remaining time on the shot clock will allow. Everyone in the crowd cannot believe what they are seeing center court and the reactions are basically laughter, disbelief, and a general "I've seen it all now." But, straight spear or not, Boyles continues the beatings with a 4-6 win. And then finally it was Niels and Mika administering the coup de grâce to team Hatch and Morris, another 4-6.
Man. They beat us like a rented mule.
The awarding of the actual Cup was painful to watch. To me, the most impressive part was how the majority of the predominantly American crowd stayed to watch and applaud the European team in their victory. When it came time for Barry Hearn to hang the second place medals around the neck of each of the Americans, I think everyone felt uncomfortable but blessedly the medals are all accepted with due restraint.
And so it is over. I wander over to Best Billiards and am surprised to find Pilot Jim there practicing, so we play some 1pocket for a few hours. Then I head to dinner and eventually follow the trail of Pink Lady's posts to the Revolution bar in the Mirage, where the Euros have assembled and are in full bull goose looney party mode. The whole team is there with assorted wives, girlfriends, and buddies. Michaela is there as is Angel, Pink Lady, and KoolKat. Hatch comes in and is warmly embraced by his opponents while they all bellow, "Uuuuuuuuuroppppppp!" Karen Corr greets me saying I look familiar and I remind her of how on a rainy night at the Executive West a group of us had pig piled into a shuttle bus and she was forced to almost sit in my lap. Darren Appleton is in a "happy" space. We had played a match in the US Open One Pocket a couple of years ago and he comes up to me, smiling from ear to ear, and semi-affectionately rubs his hand all over the right side of my face and asks, "How you doing'?" And I reply, "Doing good, Darren. You played great." And he smiles even more broadly and whispers, "We got 'lucky.'" And I reply, "Some of us know better than that."
Angel, KoolKat, and I start talking and she mentions her film project. The next thing I know Angel has invited us up to the 20th floor of the Mirage for a private screening of her 10 minute documentary, "Chasing Wincardona" that she has submitted to the Sundance Film Festival. She brings her laptop out to the foyer on that floor of the hotel and we watch and the film is great. But then she also shows us a short teaser for "Raising the Hustler" a film she's been working on for seven years based upon 600 hours of footage she's shot at pool events all over the country. One of the sad footnotes to her project is that over 30 of the players she's filmed and interviewed have passed since she started the project. The film looks splendid and you can tell it is a labor of love. I wish her every success with it.
We return to the party and there is more drinking, kisses, hugs, and photos and I mange to hang for a while longer until the booze, time change, and lack of sleep get the better of me. I head to my room and, as the late, great Grady "Professor" Mathews would have signed off: And so this Mosconi Cup is another piece of pocket billiards history.
Thank God.
Lou Figueroa
Wednesday morning, on the way to the arena, I stop at the Mirage coffee shop and join Bob Jewett for breakfast. We talk of our favorite arias, the coming concert, and wonder aloud what our tickets for Thursday's scheduled Mosconi Cup might bring on eBay. We decide: not much.
In the arena, rIght out of the gate things continue their slide into perdition, with Earl and Hatch losing 3-6.
On the next Ring of Hell was Earl in full melt down mode against Karl Boyles. Earl is chittering away to Karl, the crowd, and to his own inner demons. Referee, Ken Shuman, admonishes Earl that he's had enough.
Then at one point, after a particularly poor shot, Earl lashes out and instantaneous does grievous injury to the seven foot Zulu spear he uses as a cue.
But wait... it gets better.
On his next turn at the table the funniest moment of the MC occurs. Earl gets down on his shot and suddenly stands up. He then brings his weapon up to his eye and sights down the length of the cue. Earl's cue whacking has put a serious swarp into his cue and now he must put the butt of the cue onto the floor and try and bend the shaft as close to straight as his remaining time on the shot clock will allow. Everyone in the crowd cannot believe what they are seeing center court and the reactions are basically laughter, disbelief, and a general "I've seen it all now." But, straight spear or not, Boyles continues the beatings with a 4-6 win. And then finally it was Niels and Mika administering the coup de grâce to team Hatch and Morris, another 4-6.
Man. They beat us like a rented mule.
The awarding of the actual Cup was painful to watch. To me, the most impressive part was how the majority of the predominantly American crowd stayed to watch and applaud the European team in their victory. When it came time for Barry Hearn to hang the second place medals around the neck of each of the Americans, I think everyone felt uncomfortable but blessedly the medals are all accepted with due restraint.
And so it is over. I wander over to Best Billiards and am surprised to find Pilot Jim there practicing, so we play some 1pocket for a few hours. Then I head to dinner and eventually follow the trail of Pink Lady's posts to the Revolution bar in the Mirage, where the Euros have assembled and are in full bull goose looney party mode. The whole team is there with assorted wives, girlfriends, and buddies. Michaela is there as is Angel, Pink Lady, and KoolKat. Hatch comes in and is warmly embraced by his opponents while they all bellow, "Uuuuuuuuuroppppppp!" Karen Corr greets me saying I look familiar and I remind her of how on a rainy night at the Executive West a group of us had pig piled into a shuttle bus and she was forced to almost sit in my lap. Darren Appleton is in a "happy" space. We had played a match in the US Open One Pocket a couple of years ago and he comes up to me, smiling from ear to ear, and semi-affectionately rubs his hand all over the right side of my face and asks, "How you doing'?" And I reply, "Doing good, Darren. You played great." And he smiles even more broadly and whispers, "We got 'lucky.'" And I reply, "Some of us know better than that."
Angel, KoolKat, and I start talking and she mentions her film project. The next thing I know Angel has invited us up to the 20th floor of the Mirage for a private screening of her 10 minute documentary, "Chasing Wincardona" that she has submitted to the Sundance Film Festival. She brings her laptop out to the foyer on that floor of the hotel and we watch and the film is great. But then she also shows us a short teaser for "Raising the Hustler" a film she's been working on for seven years based upon 600 hours of footage she's shot at pool events all over the country. One of the sad footnotes to her project is that over 30 of the players she's filmed and interviewed have passed since she started the project. The film looks splendid and you can tell it is a labor of love. I wish her every success with it.
We return to the party and there is more drinking, kisses, hugs, and photos and I mange to hang for a while longer until the booze, time change, and lack of sleep get the better of me. I head to my room and, as the late, great Grady "Professor" Mathews would have signed off: And so this Mosconi Cup is another piece of pocket billiards history.
Thank God.
Lou Figueroa
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