When I first met Keith, he was staying at some dump named the Regal Inn, next door to a pool room in Baltimore. It was right after the Capital City Classic tournament concluded. A few players remained in Maryland and hung out at the pool room, hoping to get in action, which included Mark Gregory, Marcus Chamat, Helena Thornsfeldt, and Monica Webb. All the local shortstops, lobsters, and champions came to Baltimore to gamble. It was an action player's dream at that time.
One afternoon, a kid from the pool room came to Keith's hotel room and knocked on the door. He said, "Keith, Keith, come quick to the pool room. There's a road agent in there looking for some action, and he's got a backer with him. They said they'd play for big bucks, anybody. Come quick before they leave."
Keith decided to go take a peek and see what was up. Of course, he didn't have any friends in this pool room. He was kind of a stranger in town, though everybody knew who Keith was. Upon entering the joint, he looks over and sees Larry Price. They made eye contact briefly, and then Keith walked back outside. I ran after him and said, "What are you doing? Didn't you see the guy? Find out how much he wants to play for."
He kept walking and went back to his hotel room and then told me that he saw a road player he was good friends with and couldn't blow his cover. It just wouldn't be right. That's why he exited almost as quickly as he entered, to avoid any problems for Larry Price. That's what road players do sometimes when they run into each other on foreign turf.
I learned that the hard way one time, which is a story for another thread, but to make a long story short, when I was on the road with a player during an era when action was prevalent, I recognized a player from back home in Boone, North Carolina, of all places. As soon as we walked in the joint and I saw him, I go, "Hey, Bobby. Good to see you. What brings you all the way down here?" Oh, yeah. I was pretty green at one time.
JAM
