This was originally published in All About Pool in October of 2000
Lou Figueroa is 47 years old and runs a public relations consulting firm. He's a retired lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force, having served at various locales, including the Pentagon as an AF spokesman. He, his wife Gail, and their canary Beelzebub reside in St. Louis, MO.Lou did what most of us dream of, he entered the US One Pocket Open. The following is an excerpt from his posting on the rec.sport.billiards newsgroup.
...after my first match I went back to the tournament chart and saw that for the second round, on Saturday my name had been paired with Efren Reyes.
Saturday morning I headed over to the Billiard Playground to be by myself and try to get my mind set my match with, arguably, the greatest all around pool player of all time. When I got to the tournament room, the line was: you could bet either way if I could get to one. I decided that that's what I'd shoot for: to take one game off the great Efren Reyes. I'd told Alan the night before that I would really appreciate it if he could snap a photo of me lagging with Efren to prove to future generations that this match had actually taken place. Alan said no problem, and a man of his word, was there setup in time with his camera and tripod to capture the moment.
Well, we were put on Table Two, right in front of a large section of bleachers, and they were packed. Everyone wanted to see Efren play. I was just along for the ride. I put down a good lag but Efren put the ball within an inch of the rail. I looked at my watch, it was one o'clock.
The first game did not go well for me. He broke the balls carefully and I was under the gun the entire game. When he didn't have a shot he'd gently spin the cue ball one or two rails and snuggle it up against a ball. The crowd and I laughed out loud at the positions he'd put me in. I lost the first game 8-0.
It was while I was racking the balls to break (it was a rack your own tournament) the realization dawned upon me that it was quite possible that--not only could I lose the match 4-0--conceivably, I could lose the match against a player of this caliber WITHOUT SCORING A SINGLE BALL. Oh, the humanity! The humiliation! What do you tell the guys back at the pool hall? What will everyone on RSB think? That you got a chance to play the greatest player in the world and didn't score a single ball!?? Suddenly, not only did my goal of winning one game seem like the only way to maintain my dignity and salvage the honor of RSB, it also seemed just a bit further out of my reach.
I broke well the second game. Shortly after the break, Efren left me frozen on the side rail just above my pocket. I looked at the rack for a long time. There was an unfrozen three-ball combination that just might go. But the only way to hit it right was to send the cue ball into a fourth ball and have it carom at just the right angle into the third ball in the combination chain. I'd have to hit it at warp speed to get enough energy on the shot to get the last ball in the combination to the pocket. If it didn't go, I was toast because the stack was going to explode.
One of the more beautiful shots in pool is when a shot is struck hard and the eventual object ball emerges from the stack from the opposite direction the player shoots into it, and the object ball slowly begins marching towards it assigned pocket. Despite shooting with brio, the two ball virtually crawled towards its destination with total mayhem all around it. As I watched the shot, it seemed as if all fifteen balls and the cue ball were in motion and virtually all of them were attempting to kiss out the two ball. But somehow the blue ball made it safe and sound to its destination. The ball dropped. The crowd burst into applause.
Still, the balls were spread too wide for me to get out. As the game progressed, we got to the point at which I needed two, and Efren needed one. Unbelievably, Efren kissed into a shot and sold out the last two balls: a modest cut shot with virtually natural position on the out ball. I missed. All I could hear from the stands were muttered, "Well, he had a chance..." A few innings later, I missed a thin hit to play safe and had to spot a ball. Now I needed three. And then, something began to become apparent to me, to the people in the stands, and even to Efren, Lou was banking well today. I banked three and out to take the second game. The monkey was off my back.
Efren took the next game. He tied me up so bad that my only option was to kick thee rails and then two rails for intentional fouls. But I pulled both of them off. the crowd started applauding my shts and the increasing ridiculous accuracy of my bank shots.
I took the fourth game 8-0 to tie it up at 2-2. The fifth game went down to the last three balls, all down table on the side rail just below the side pocket on his side. I needed all three and went for the home run; a carom and combination bank that would send two balls towards my hole and a third up table on my side. The shot went kaabluewee and Efren straight in.
The last game was another battle, but he was too strong. I lost 4-2. I looked at my watch; it was 3:30. I had just wrestled with Efren Reyes in a race to for for two and a half hours and taken two games off him. During our match, Buddy Hall had been playing on one side of us, Steve Cook on the other. Perhaps, because I was such an underdog, and certainly because of my bank shots, I had received several rounds of applause from the crowd. There hadn't been one for Hall, Cook or Reyes. Buddy, in particular, kept looking over wondering what kind of circus act was going on next to him to merit all the excitement.
After the match, as I shook Efren's hand, he smiled and said in that high clipped accent he has, "Louis bank good. Miss straight in." We both laughed, but that about summed it up.
My next match was against a well known road player, Junior Harris. Though he'd gone for $200 in the Calcutta vs my $50, the line was I was the favorite. I won the first two easily and he won the third. Then he stopped shooting at his pocket. After three hours, Ed the tournament director came over and said, as he'd announced in the player's meeting, at three hours he was putting a time limit on the match and would call it at three and a half.
Junior won the fourth game and Ed visited again. He said whoever won the next game would be the winner of the match. It was my break.
I won it 8-1. Junior was hot and argued with Ed, but after all, he hadn't argued when Ed had spelled out the conditions during his previous visits. Actually, though it went my way, I think Junior got a raw deal. My feeling is that if you're holding a one pocket tournament you should factor in that some matches will go longer. And, when you pay your entry fee and suck up time and money to travel to the tournament, you're entitled to your races to four. But Junior started on me saying I played slow. In brief I told him to stick it and that it was his own fault because he just refused to shoot at his hole.
After a five minute break, my next match was with Cliff Joyner. He ran over me 4-0. The first few games it seems like I was struggling to even see an edge of a ball to play safe off of. I eventually scored a lot of balls, but as in my match with Efren, I also missed several straight ins. Cliff played at a very high caliber. It wasn't even close. I was out of the tournament.
But as I unscrewed my cue, I considered the tournament a major personal success. I got to play Efren and Cliff in one tournament, I won two matches against established players, I made some money, I warmed up with Steve Cook, and I got to sweat some high stakes after hour's action. Plus I got to see old friends again and made several new ones.
Playing pool in a tournament like the Open is a unique experience, in some ayes unlike playing pool at any other time. The conditions are different, your competitors are unknown, as are their skill levels and strategies. There are distractions and pressure and you must adjust to all of this immediately. It's an interesting test.
For instance, you may think you know how to kick three rails but tournament conditions really constitute the acid test. Do you really know how to instantly calculate the path the cue ball must take, the right amount of spin, the right speed, and compensate for the new cushions, cloth and balls? You either know how to do it or you don't. And whether you do or not is out there for the whole world to see. There is no hiding what you can and can't do.
At an even more basic level are the simple shots you think you should be able to make. During this tournament I learned that there is a whole slew of shots I thought I knew but couldn't execute them consistently. I'm not talking tough shots; I'm talking about shots that in my mind I thought I could make 10 out of 10. Maybe practicing and then going to play in a tournament is a little like getting dressed in the dark-- you go out into the bright sunlight and sometimes discover that you've got socks on that don't match. And so, playing in a tournament alerts you to things you should work on.
A tournament, because of the severity of the test, also let's you see what works and what does not. I went to this tournament after making a few minor adjustments to my pre-shot routine. Right before playing Efren, I made one further tweak. As it turned out, that last adjustment helped me play pretty well. It's probably a keeper. So in that regard, tournaments provide you with the ultimate "where the rubber meets the road" venue, not unlike taking the hot rod that you've been lovingly tinkering with for years for a little spin on the Mercedes-Benz test track at Stuttgart.
A tournament also gives you the opportunity to see a wide variety of approaches to the game. I saw several shots that I don't play regularly. But I experienced their effectiveness first hand and believe me, I will practice them and they will quickly become a part of my personal arsenal. That's another great learning opportunity playing in a tournament presents you.
Playing in a tournament will also help you steel your nerves. Repeatedly placing yourself in a pressure filled situation, you'll find that eventually there are no hand tremors, sweating palms, or pounding chest-- even when you play Efren Reyes in front of a crowded set of bleachers.
Lastly, I think playing in a tournament imbues you with a sense of confidence you can't get any other way. Stepping into the arena and taking on all comers on a level playing field gives you a very accurate sense of where your game and you yourself as a competitor stand in the universe of pool players.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I hope my little tale will inspire all of you to jump into a tournament in the very near future, or at least the next time you have the opportunity. It won't be easy, it might not be cheap, and it will take time, effort and courage on your part. No, I'm not saying everyone should sign up for the next Open, though there are some of you that should. I'm saying there are tournaments all over the place that at some level or another will let you experience what I did---both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. More importantly, it will give you a great way to learn many different but related things. If you don't compete in a tournament now and again, and test yourself and your game, you're cheating yourself.
Well, that's it. I hope to see you at the next Open. Now get out there and be safe.
Hope you enjoyed the article written by Lou amazingly fifteen years ago. Don't forget to pick up your copy of JUST DO IT FOR THE MONEY.
Bob
Lou Figueroa is 47 years old and runs a public relations consulting firm. He's a retired lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force, having served at various locales, including the Pentagon as an AF spokesman. He, his wife Gail, and their canary Beelzebub reside in St. Louis, MO.Lou did what most of us dream of, he entered the US One Pocket Open. The following is an excerpt from his posting on the rec.sport.billiards newsgroup.
...after my first match I went back to the tournament chart and saw that for the second round, on Saturday my name had been paired with Efren Reyes.
Saturday morning I headed over to the Billiard Playground to be by myself and try to get my mind set my match with, arguably, the greatest all around pool player of all time. When I got to the tournament room, the line was: you could bet either way if I could get to one. I decided that that's what I'd shoot for: to take one game off the great Efren Reyes. I'd told Alan the night before that I would really appreciate it if he could snap a photo of me lagging with Efren to prove to future generations that this match had actually taken place. Alan said no problem, and a man of his word, was there setup in time with his camera and tripod to capture the moment.
Well, we were put on Table Two, right in front of a large section of bleachers, and they were packed. Everyone wanted to see Efren play. I was just along for the ride. I put down a good lag but Efren put the ball within an inch of the rail. I looked at my watch, it was one o'clock.
The first game did not go well for me. He broke the balls carefully and I was under the gun the entire game. When he didn't have a shot he'd gently spin the cue ball one or two rails and snuggle it up against a ball. The crowd and I laughed out loud at the positions he'd put me in. I lost the first game 8-0.
It was while I was racking the balls to break (it was a rack your own tournament) the realization dawned upon me that it was quite possible that--not only could I lose the match 4-0--conceivably, I could lose the match against a player of this caliber WITHOUT SCORING A SINGLE BALL. Oh, the humanity! The humiliation! What do you tell the guys back at the pool hall? What will everyone on RSB think? That you got a chance to play the greatest player in the world and didn't score a single ball!?? Suddenly, not only did my goal of winning one game seem like the only way to maintain my dignity and salvage the honor of RSB, it also seemed just a bit further out of my reach.
I broke well the second game. Shortly after the break, Efren left me frozen on the side rail just above my pocket. I looked at the rack for a long time. There was an unfrozen three-ball combination that just might go. But the only way to hit it right was to send the cue ball into a fourth ball and have it carom at just the right angle into the third ball in the combination chain. I'd have to hit it at warp speed to get enough energy on the shot to get the last ball in the combination to the pocket. If it didn't go, I was toast because the stack was going to explode.
One of the more beautiful shots in pool is when a shot is struck hard and the eventual object ball emerges from the stack from the opposite direction the player shoots into it, and the object ball slowly begins marching towards it assigned pocket. Despite shooting with brio, the two ball virtually crawled towards its destination with total mayhem all around it. As I watched the shot, it seemed as if all fifteen balls and the cue ball were in motion and virtually all of them were attempting to kiss out the two ball. But somehow the blue ball made it safe and sound to its destination. The ball dropped. The crowd burst into applause.
Still, the balls were spread too wide for me to get out. As the game progressed, we got to the point at which I needed two, and Efren needed one. Unbelievably, Efren kissed into a shot and sold out the last two balls: a modest cut shot with virtually natural position on the out ball. I missed. All I could hear from the stands were muttered, "Well, he had a chance..." A few innings later, I missed a thin hit to play safe and had to spot a ball. Now I needed three. And then, something began to become apparent to me, to the people in the stands, and even to Efren, Lou was banking well today. I banked three and out to take the second game. The monkey was off my back.
Efren took the next game. He tied me up so bad that my only option was to kick thee rails and then two rails for intentional fouls. But I pulled both of them off. the crowd started applauding my shts and the increasing ridiculous accuracy of my bank shots.
I took the fourth game 8-0 to tie it up at 2-2. The fifth game went down to the last three balls, all down table on the side rail just below the side pocket on his side. I needed all three and went for the home run; a carom and combination bank that would send two balls towards my hole and a third up table on my side. The shot went kaabluewee and Efren straight in.
The last game was another battle, but he was too strong. I lost 4-2. I looked at my watch; it was 3:30. I had just wrestled with Efren Reyes in a race to for for two and a half hours and taken two games off him. During our match, Buddy Hall had been playing on one side of us, Steve Cook on the other. Perhaps, because I was such an underdog, and certainly because of my bank shots, I had received several rounds of applause from the crowd. There hadn't been one for Hall, Cook or Reyes. Buddy, in particular, kept looking over wondering what kind of circus act was going on next to him to merit all the excitement.
After the match, as I shook Efren's hand, he smiled and said in that high clipped accent he has, "Louis bank good. Miss straight in." We both laughed, but that about summed it up.
My next match was against a well known road player, Junior Harris. Though he'd gone for $200 in the Calcutta vs my $50, the line was I was the favorite. I won the first two easily and he won the third. Then he stopped shooting at his pocket. After three hours, Ed the tournament director came over and said, as he'd announced in the player's meeting, at three hours he was putting a time limit on the match and would call it at three and a half.
Junior won the fourth game and Ed visited again. He said whoever won the next game would be the winner of the match. It was my break.
I won it 8-1. Junior was hot and argued with Ed, but after all, he hadn't argued when Ed had spelled out the conditions during his previous visits. Actually, though it went my way, I think Junior got a raw deal. My feeling is that if you're holding a one pocket tournament you should factor in that some matches will go longer. And, when you pay your entry fee and suck up time and money to travel to the tournament, you're entitled to your races to four. But Junior started on me saying I played slow. In brief I told him to stick it and that it was his own fault because he just refused to shoot at his hole.
After a five minute break, my next match was with Cliff Joyner. He ran over me 4-0. The first few games it seems like I was struggling to even see an edge of a ball to play safe off of. I eventually scored a lot of balls, but as in my match with Efren, I also missed several straight ins. Cliff played at a very high caliber. It wasn't even close. I was out of the tournament.
But as I unscrewed my cue, I considered the tournament a major personal success. I got to play Efren and Cliff in one tournament, I won two matches against established players, I made some money, I warmed up with Steve Cook, and I got to sweat some high stakes after hour's action. Plus I got to see old friends again and made several new ones.
Playing pool in a tournament like the Open is a unique experience, in some ayes unlike playing pool at any other time. The conditions are different, your competitors are unknown, as are their skill levels and strategies. There are distractions and pressure and you must adjust to all of this immediately. It's an interesting test.
For instance, you may think you know how to kick three rails but tournament conditions really constitute the acid test. Do you really know how to instantly calculate the path the cue ball must take, the right amount of spin, the right speed, and compensate for the new cushions, cloth and balls? You either know how to do it or you don't. And whether you do or not is out there for the whole world to see. There is no hiding what you can and can't do.
At an even more basic level are the simple shots you think you should be able to make. During this tournament I learned that there is a whole slew of shots I thought I knew but couldn't execute them consistently. I'm not talking tough shots; I'm talking about shots that in my mind I thought I could make 10 out of 10. Maybe practicing and then going to play in a tournament is a little like getting dressed in the dark-- you go out into the bright sunlight and sometimes discover that you've got socks on that don't match. And so, playing in a tournament alerts you to things you should work on.
A tournament, because of the severity of the test, also let's you see what works and what does not. I went to this tournament after making a few minor adjustments to my pre-shot routine. Right before playing Efren, I made one further tweak. As it turned out, that last adjustment helped me play pretty well. It's probably a keeper. So in that regard, tournaments provide you with the ultimate "where the rubber meets the road" venue, not unlike taking the hot rod that you've been lovingly tinkering with for years for a little spin on the Mercedes-Benz test track at Stuttgart.
A tournament also gives you the opportunity to see a wide variety of approaches to the game. I saw several shots that I don't play regularly. But I experienced their effectiveness first hand and believe me, I will practice them and they will quickly become a part of my personal arsenal. That's another great learning opportunity playing in a tournament presents you.
Playing in a tournament will also help you steel your nerves. Repeatedly placing yourself in a pressure filled situation, you'll find that eventually there are no hand tremors, sweating palms, or pounding chest-- even when you play Efren Reyes in front of a crowded set of bleachers.
Lastly, I think playing in a tournament imbues you with a sense of confidence you can't get any other way. Stepping into the arena and taking on all comers on a level playing field gives you a very accurate sense of where your game and you yourself as a competitor stand in the universe of pool players.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I hope my little tale will inspire all of you to jump into a tournament in the very near future, or at least the next time you have the opportunity. It won't be easy, it might not be cheap, and it will take time, effort and courage on your part. No, I'm not saying everyone should sign up for the next Open, though there are some of you that should. I'm saying there are tournaments all over the place that at some level or another will let you experience what I did---both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. More importantly, it will give you a great way to learn many different but related things. If you don't compete in a tournament now and again, and test yourself and your game, you're cheating yourself.
Well, that's it. I hope to see you at the next Open. Now get out there and be safe.
Hope you enjoyed the article written by Lou amazingly fifteen years ago. Don't forget to pick up your copy of JUST DO IT FOR THE MONEY.
Bob
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