Poor, poor San Diego Dave. He played awfully good 9 Ball in the mid-sixties and a very decent game of One Pocket. Dave had the misfortune of playing a middle aged gentleman even up 9 Ball at the Five Points Bowl in El Monte, California, for big money. Our stalwart played nearly flawless 9 Ball for 20 hours and ended up broke. His opponent was Bill Lawson who rarely missed a ball, had a killer break and was a terrific gambler.
Then, Dave (after watching Denny Searcy sit drunk on a theater seat every day for six months) said "ha, ha, ha. This is what I've been waiting for. If you can get up off that bench and beat me playing 9 Ball, I'll never hit another ball". Denny, of course, robbed him.
Dave also lost to Ronnie Allen playing even up One Pocket, with Ronnie shooting one handed. This was not a disgrace, as Ronnie also beat Calhoun, Harry the Horse, McConnell, and others with one duke.
I had just pulled into the parking lot of a downstairs pool room in Macon, Georgia in 1968. I had just gotten out of my car when to my surprise, I saw a dejected Jeff Sparks exiting the place. It turned out that he had just lost all his money to Horace Harper playing 9 Ball. I think this match retired Jeff because I never heard of him playing a good player again.
I had already made up my mind how to best handle Horace because he beat everybody that came through Macon playing 9 Ball. So, downstairs I headed and put my plan into action. After some early discussion about matching up, I offered to play him a 10 ahead set of 9 Ball for $2,000 with one stipulation: We both had to call a pocket ahead position. Even in those hallowed old days you can probably sense that I hated 9 Ball.
He didn't like the sound of that game. He hustled me to play even up Snooker for $300 a game. I accepted as I was pretty sure that I could beat all American players except Denny playing Snooker. Horace beat me to the first shot and cleared the entire table to the delight of a partisan and red-neck crowd. Being from the Weldon Rodgers school of gambling, I raised the bet to $1000 a game. This time, I got the first shot and I ran out. That was the end of the match.
I didn't see Horace for 14 years. Then, we played a 35 hour match on the bar table. I emerged victorious but he gave me a hell of a game. The place we played the bar pool was northeast of Atlanta a couple of hours. I don't remember the name of the town or the place, but I do remember that the owner and his friends extended the warmest of southern hospitality. The next day, they invited me to a "turkey shoot". I accepted gladly and had a great time, although there's no way I could shoot with those good ole boys.
As this has drifted into being longish, I'll wait a couple of days before doing some Cole Dickson stories.
Then, Dave (after watching Denny Searcy sit drunk on a theater seat every day for six months) said "ha, ha, ha. This is what I've been waiting for. If you can get up off that bench and beat me playing 9 Ball, I'll never hit another ball". Denny, of course, robbed him.
Dave also lost to Ronnie Allen playing even up One Pocket, with Ronnie shooting one handed. This was not a disgrace, as Ronnie also beat Calhoun, Harry the Horse, McConnell, and others with one duke.
I had just pulled into the parking lot of a downstairs pool room in Macon, Georgia in 1968. I had just gotten out of my car when to my surprise, I saw a dejected Jeff Sparks exiting the place. It turned out that he had just lost all his money to Horace Harper playing 9 Ball. I think this match retired Jeff because I never heard of him playing a good player again.
I had already made up my mind how to best handle Horace because he beat everybody that came through Macon playing 9 Ball. So, downstairs I headed and put my plan into action. After some early discussion about matching up, I offered to play him a 10 ahead set of 9 Ball for $2,000 with one stipulation: We both had to call a pocket ahead position. Even in those hallowed old days you can probably sense that I hated 9 Ball.
He didn't like the sound of that game. He hustled me to play even up Snooker for $300 a game. I accepted as I was pretty sure that I could beat all American players except Denny playing Snooker. Horace beat me to the first shot and cleared the entire table to the delight of a partisan and red-neck crowd. Being from the Weldon Rodgers school of gambling, I raised the bet to $1000 a game. This time, I got the first shot and I ran out. That was the end of the match.
I didn't see Horace for 14 years. Then, we played a 35 hour match on the bar table. I emerged victorious but he gave me a hell of a game. The place we played the bar pool was northeast of Atlanta a couple of hours. I don't remember the name of the town or the place, but I do remember that the owner and his friends extended the warmest of southern hospitality. The next day, they invited me to a "turkey shoot". I accepted gladly and had a great time, although there's no way I could shoot with those good ole boys.
As this has drifted into being longish, I'll wait a couple of days before doing some Cole Dickson stories.
He comes out a couple of times a year and plays in the sunday bar tourny in Macon. Unfortunatally all we have is bar tables and 2 snooker tables in all of Macon, but be on the look out as soon as Larry Pool gets his beer liscense he is open for business. something like 25 bar tables, 8 or 10 big tables, and 4 snooker tables. not to mention a large room dedicated just for poker. Get this, it's underground
