iba7467 said:
I would like to hear some of the shark tactics players have used on our thread members, or members have used. This might be interesting...
From an article four years ago in Billiards Digest that includes a few scams with the sharks:
Sharks and Scams
Recently in the on-line discussion group rec.sport.billiard, I
asked the participants to describe notable sharks, moves, and
scams. The response was very enthusiastic. If you prefer to
think of the game as a pure, intellectual pursuit of geometry and
physics, you may want to skip this month's installment, which
deals with the sordid and unseemly.
One recurring theme was methods of distraction. Mentioned
several times was the strategic positioning of attractive women
near the table. I've seen this in person when a local big-money
player showed up for a match accompanied by a mini-skirted
helper who perched on a bar stool by the table. Effectiveness is
reported to be inversely proportional to clothing.
Talking during your opponent's turn is too obvious. A twist is
to launch into lengthy stories on your own turn and then clam up
when you're seated. While you're at it, don't watch while your
opponent is shooting -- look away as if you have no interest in
the game. Of course, some players are painful to watch, and your
apparent disinterest can be excused. Luther Lassiter was said
to sleep during some of his matches.
Does your opponent like to listen to heavy metal rock? Get to
the juke box first and punch up five bucks of Frank Sinatra and
Britney Spears.
One of the most common lesser sharks is visiting the restroom.
When you finish a nice run, and suddenly your opponent bolts for
the john, it's easy to suspect your five minute wait is more due
to his desire to cool your streak than any gastrointestinal
urgency. Would it be impolite to offer such a person a bottle of
Kaopectate? Most larger tournaments have rules about breaks --
number and duration -- and some players seem always to press the
limit. I'm generally against shot clocks, but I recently heard
of a system used in Europe that might be worth a try. Chess
clocks are used, and each player starts with so much time. Need
a bathroom break? Fine, you're on the clock.
Among mildly irritating activities to employ are putting the
chalk on the cushion face down, getting talc all over every
thing, moving all the chalk to your chair, racking for a few
minutes or nit-picking your opponent's rack to death, saying
"nice try" for a lousy miss, saying nothing for a world-class
shot, and lots more. Timing of the change of players at the
table gives lots of off-putting possiblities. Linger at the
table after each miss until your opponent is ready to shoot; jump
up from your chair as soon as you're sure your opponent has
missed (an antidote to the preceding method), or take an extra
five seconds to get to the table, which will seem like an
eternity after many repetitions.
Another fertile situation is the concession of the final balls at
games like nine ball. The most blatant form of this is to get up
as if you're going to concede a shot that's a little harder than
average, and then sit back down. A variation of this technique
is used if you have been on a good run, and then miss on a late
ball, leaving a very easy run out. Concede all the balls so your
opponent, who has been seated for a rack or two, has no hangers
to warm up with. Around here, some tournaments have the rule that
if you concede a nine ball, you lose the next game as well.
There are lots of less direct distraction methods. A good source
is Steven Potter's "Gamesmanship" which has been discussed in
this magazine by Robert Byrne. Potter tends towards the "mind
worm" ploy, such as the suggestion from the group to ask, "Do you
usually exhale before the stroke?"
You may encounter more agressive sharks as well. One player told
me he would make my life a living hell if I left the game for a
brief dinner break, and at the time he seemed to mean it.
Another player in this area would pick a fight over any slight
thing. When I offered him the first break in a nine ball match,
he accused me of trying to pull something and demanded to flip.
Of course, if your opponent isn't Bustamante, the break probably
is a disadvantage on most tables with most racks. A study by
Accu-stats of pro results showed that the breaker lost more than
half the time at nine ball. So, maybe I was trying to pull
something.
Some players smash things when they're mad, and again it's not
clear whether it's spontaneous release or with some purpose.
Ranting at your own bad play is a mild form of this. Others get
mad at everyone around them -- sometimes in World Championships
-- perhaps because they have a need to feel like a lone underdog,
or perhaps to rattle all concerned.
When gambling is involved, the better player may need moves to
get or keep the "client" interested. One report was of a player
who saw his fish about to swim away, so he conceded a tough nine
ball. The generosity got him a few more barrels.
Often the inducement to play comes as a spot that's not a
spot. (The break at nine ball may well be one of these.) I'm
guilty of spotting my opponent -- who was my roommate at the time
-- the removal of five of his balls at eight ball, so he only has
to make two before the eight. If I remove them, there's no way
Efren can beat me. Please note: I found out it's not a good idea
to use such tricks on your roommate.
"I'll shoot left handed," may be a sinister invitation. "You
played so bad against me, I'll bet that girl can beat you," may
be followed by an introduction to a pleasant young woman named
Karen with a funny accent and an open bridge.
One report on the Internet was from a one-pocket player who was
spotting his opponent 8-6. (Shark needs 8 balls before the fish
gets 6.) After a threat to quit, the fish agreed to continue at
9-7, since it would be harder for the better player to get to
nine balls. Well, you can calculate the change in advantage
here, and the shark's chances improved by about 6%. That is, if
the first spot were even, the second would give the better player
a 6% advantage, in the long run. It helps if the donor suffers
from innumeracy.
Ron Shepard reported a move from a tournament. The better player
was on the hill (needing one more game) and the opponent needed a
bunch. The offer was a side bet of $20 on each rack played for
the rest of the match. The player who was on the hill could only
win $20, while the other might win $100, so it seemed like 5:1 on
the money. Of course, if someone is better than you are, it's a
losing proposition to bet at all, but this situation may cloud
your mind.
One correspondent mentions giving up the "8 and the last four"
at nine ball. This means that the client wins if he pockets
the eight ball at any time or any of the last four balls on
the table. When that didn't go well, it was adjusted to the
"6 and the last four," which seems like more, but is it?
There are lots of word dodges that might be used. Be prepared
for one in "Poolhall Junkies," if you haven't seen it yet.
Examples are: "I bet you can't make that ball." (Brunswick made
it.) "I bet I can roll the ball under this bridge on the table."
(Roll it under the table.) "I know where you got those shoes."
(On your feet.) "I bet I can roll over 250 at bowling." (Write
"250" on a piece of paper and then roll a ball over it.) My own
feeling is that such tricks should be rewarded with broken thumbs
or worse. If the parties to a wager do not agree on what the
conditions were, there was no wager. You can quote me.
Sometimes the scams are more complex. I know one player who was
about to leave the area, so he arranged a match at his home
room with a visitor. All the locals backed their guy, of course.
The result was a "dump." The lesson: if you need to wager, bet
only on yourself.
An extension of the dump was related to me by a player who toured
the South with a couple of old-time hustlers. The usual
arrangement was for A to go into a town, and gradually work his
way up the local pecking order until he was beating everybody by
playing better pool than the townsfolk had ever seen. A few days
after the action had subsided, B would get to town, and a match
with A would be arranged. Player A would play great pool, better
than he had showed before, but B would play even better than
that. I suppose this sort of plan was safer before the days of
Internet chat rooms and the instantaneous world-wide broadcast of
descriptions of remarkable touring players.
Some times unusual games can be confusing. Eddie Robin describes
lots of strange spots at one pocket in his two excellent books on
the game. How about a game where nothing I do counts? Is there
any way for me to win? My scratches don't count against me, if I
make a ball for you, it doesn't count, but if I make my own, they
don't count either.
In a strange match several years ago at the location of a major
tournament, two players had a strange one pocket game: 2 to 1.
Yes, the weaker player needed only one ball to win. Now, it's
possible to try to compare this very short game to a longer game,
say 10-5. It turns out that simple theory says the shorter match
favors the weaker player by about 10% compared to a long game.
This may confuse on-lookers as to the proper odds. I didn't hear
how the two players came out, but the on-lookers were reported to
have lost $30,000.
As far as proposition bets go, be sure to keep an eye on Willie
Joplin's column for ideas. Amazing things can happen on a pool
table without any kind of flim-flam. Keep your wallet in your
pocket and remember the advice of Sky Masterson's father
(according to Damon Runyon):
Son. Someday a man is going to walk up to you with a sealed
deck of cards fresh from the factory, and say, "I bet I can
make the jack of spades jump out of this deck and squirt
cider in your ear." Son, when you meet this man, do not take
his bet. For as sure as the sun rises every morning, if you
do take the bet, the jack of spades will jump out of the deck
and squirt cider in your ear.
Oh, and if you play me, don't try any of the above, or I'll call
you for unsportsmanlike conduct
It's almost like they do it on purpose.
