The good old days.

[Bob Callahan]

I miss pool the way it was...at least times and places like these lasted a lot longer in here in Appalachia than the rest of the country:

The Pool Hall

A quote:

"I don't remember any of the old men ever teaching me how to hold a stick or stroke a shot. They never told me how to aim or what to expect of the cue ball after shooting. When I made a mistake that they thought was serious, I was simply told it was stupid. It was left to me to reason why. I usually did. The old men were good teachers, because they didn't impose their game on me. Pool requires creative thinking and constant reappraisal. What makes the game so great is that it changes with each player's personality. A lot of players shoot equally as well. It is the great thinker, the creative mind that will most consistently prevail."

 

[JoeyA]

I miss pool the way it was...at least times and places like these lasted a lot longer in here in Appalachia than the rest of the country:

The Pooll Hall

A quote:

"I don't remember any of the old men ever teaching me how to hold a stick or stroke a shot. They never told me how to aim or what to expect of the cue ball after shooting. When I made a mistake that they thought was serious, I was simply told it was stupid. It was left to me to reason why. I usually did. The old men were good teachers, because they didn't impose their game on me. Pool requires creative thinking and constant reappraisal. What makes the game so great is that it changes with each player's personality. A lot of players shoot equally as well. It is the great thinker, the creative mind that will most consistently prevail."

I always liked Jim Meador's writing.
Thanks for sharing the link of "The Pool Hall".

 

[JAM]

There used to be a bookmaker who frequented my neighborhood pool hall named "Old Man Mickey." He came to the pool room every night at the same designated time. Calls would come in for "Mr. Johnson," and those in the know were well aware that these calls were people calling Old Man Mickey to make a bet.

One afternoon, I was hitting some balls around, and Old Man Mickey sat down on the rail and was sweating me shooting. He watched me for 10 or 15 minutes and then offered to show me how to break the balls in 9-ball. I had no idea about using english or where to aim, but Old Man Mickey sharing a few nuggets of pool wisdom set me straight.

Old Man Mickey still sweated me playing over the years, but he never imposed himself. When I pocketed a tough shot, I'd look over at him, and he'd give me wink. How I learned a lot was sweating players like Old Man Mickey. Oh, man, the hours would go by like minutes watching these guys play.

Walking into my pool room, it was just like walking into the home of an old friend. I knew who was inside the joint by the cars lined up in the parking lot. We had players of all caliber, shortstops, social shooters, road players, and the old-timers. Those were the golden years of pool for me.

Thanks for sharing the story. It conjured up happy pool memories.

 

[richiebalto]

There used to be a bookmaker who frequented my neighborhood pool hall named "Old Man Mickey." He came to the pool room every night at the same designated time. Calls would come in for "Mr. Johnson," and those in the know were well aware that these calls were people calling Old Man Mickey to make a bet.

One afternoon, I was hitting some balls around, and Old Man Mickey sat down on the rail and was sweating me shooting. He watched me for 10 or 15 minutes and then offered to show me how to break the balls in 9-ball. I had no idea about using english or where to aim, but Old Man Mickey sharing a few nuggets of pool wisdom set me straight.

Old Man Mickey still sweated me playing over the years, but he never imposed himself. When I pocketed a tough shot, I'd look over at him, and he'd give me wink. How I learned a lot was sweating players like Old Man Mickey. Oh, man, the hours would go by like minutes watching these guys play.

Walking into my pool room, it was just like walking into the home of an old friend. I knew who was inside the joint by the cars lined up in the parking lot. We had players of all caliber, shortstops, social shooters, road players, and the old-timers. Those were the golden years of pool for me.

Thanks for sharing the story. It conjured up happy pool memories.

Jam good to see you posting again,boy i could not wait (when i was a kid walking to the pool hall)to get to that parking lot because i knew one look at the parking lot was the same as being inside the pool hall,i knew who was in there before they ever seen me,then go in there(with out a wait,not like today)and start playing 9ball for 2or5 a game ,go broke and go rite back home and grab the lawn mower and make some more money so i could go back up the pool hall and then if i would win the next day i would be going with the old men to pimlico,laurel ,bowie or timonium and a lot of nites at the trotters old rosecroft or laurel raceway, go broke and do the same thing all over again,oh how i loved that!it mite not sound like it to many but they were the best days,those days are gone forever,but are memories are not!