Mickey Carpinello
This is an exerpt from my book, The GosPool:
...William “Sailor” Barge's student, "Port Chester Mickey," was cut from the same bolt of cloth, and he eventually became the greatest, unknown player in the country. The reason Mickey stayed an unknown was his dope habit. Mickey was a heroin addict. He would stay burrowed, deeply, into his dope world for years, never playing a game of pool.
Mickey would emerge periodically, when "Sugar Shack" Johnny Novak and myself traveled to Port Chester, NY and dragged him out of his drug world and took him with us on the road. While on the road, Mickey would go "cold turkey" and stay in the room for weeks kicking his habit. "Sugar Shack" insisted that Mickey must be totally straight while he was with us. It usually took about 30 days for Mickey to become a human being again.
After about three weeks, Mickey would start practicing diligently for hours every day. Two weeks of hard practice and he would be ready. Then we would turn him loose on the pool world. It was like unleashing Dracula on a necklace show. Nobody knew Mickey, so he went through the best players wherever he played like a chain saw going through butter. It was a massacre.
When Mickey was straight he had no bad habits. He didn't drink or smoke and could play for hours on cup of coffee and a candy bar. Mickey was a brutal sadist on a pool table. He would get ten or twelve games ahead playing 9-Ball (the only game he played) and if his opponent showed the slightest signs of revival, like trying to win a game, Mickey would change the rules in ways that favored him even more — no lucking in the 9-Ball — call your shot, and when he was really feeling ornery he'd make opponents call their position for every shot, which is a test many professionals cannot pass.
Seeing Mickey in action was like watching the 3rd Infantry division rolling through Iraq. Mickey's position play was so flawless that it seemed that he never had a hard shot. I once told him, "I'm not sure if you can really play. You beat everybody, but all you ever shoot is hangers."
How good did Mickey really play? Good enough to sneak up on Wade "Boom Boom" Crane, aka, "Billy Johnson" in Atlanta in the sixties, when Billy only missed an average of one ball a week playing 9-Ball.
When he was off the drugs, Mickey was a clear minded philosopher whose views on any subject were worth recording. With that in mind, I once asked him, "Mickey, with a mind like you have, with such a clear, pure perspective on everything, how the hell could you become a lifetime heroin junkie?" His reply was a typical Mickeyism, "When I am on heroin, my mind is not so clear."
All things must come to an end. After a few months of looting and pillaging top players, we would wake up one morning and Mickey would be gone. Gone back to Port Chester with his winnings. Gone back to the dope world. Back with freshly healed veins, where the dope, for the first week at least, would actually feel good. Back to no pool and anonymity for a few more years, until "Sugar Shack" and myself would dredge him up again and repeat the ritual.
Beard