1991?
Me, and a crazy, self-taught, runout, all offensive player named Scott Wright were sitting in the poolroom in Raleigh. We had just come back from Myrtle Beach on a winning trip (except that one run-in with James Walden). We were sitting around and bs'ing about the trip. Scott then noticed a fairly hefty fella hitting balls on table 2, jogging suit and all. Scott, not being the sharpest tool in the shed runs directly up to him and asks him to play.
"Sure, $50 a set?", Tony asked with a shocking look on his face.
"Hell yeah!" , poor Scott had no idea who he was screwing with.
I did.
Well, I wasn't gonna tell Scott. We were up for the trip and so I handed him a buck. Scott has been known to pull quite a few upsets as long as he didn't get name stung. And we all know how it feels to play "name stung."
"Let's get it on." Poor Scott.
"You break first." Tony kind of laughed.
By this time, the owner and manager were smiling. So were the other people in the poolroom. I was pretty interested in how my horse could run with the big dogs, though. I was staking this jaunt. As long as noone told him who it was, I truly thought my all offense player could hang.
Well, hang he did. 7-4 first set to Scott.
"Want to jack it up?"
"Let me check with the Craw."
He walks over and begs to bet $200. "No, let's let him win it back the same way."
Second set, Scott. 7-5. These were no flukes or laydowns, either.
"Now, do you want to jack it up?" Tony barked.
"Hell yeah, bet the $100." Scott couldn't take it.
"Now, let's play. You know Tony Ellin can't lose three in a row. You can't play a lick. Let's get it on."
"Tony Ellin? Tony Ellin? Hell, I didn't know it was you. You're right, I can't play a lick."
Scott unscrewed and walked over and got the time. "I'm done." I thought Tony was gonna have a coronary right then and there. He was throwing balls out and firing them at a hundred miles an hour. Everyone was either laughing or trying not to laugh. Tony was really barking, now. Scott just laughed and bought us a beer.
Moral: Don't tell'em who you are to scare'em. They just might quit.
Me, and a crazy, self-taught, runout, all offensive player named Scott Wright were sitting in the poolroom in Raleigh. We had just come back from Myrtle Beach on a winning trip (except that one run-in with James Walden). We were sitting around and bs'ing about the trip. Scott then noticed a fairly hefty fella hitting balls on table 2, jogging suit and all. Scott, not being the sharpest tool in the shed runs directly up to him and asks him to play.
"Sure, $50 a set?", Tony asked with a shocking look on his face.
"Hell yeah!" , poor Scott had no idea who he was screwing with.
I did.
Well, I wasn't gonna tell Scott. We were up for the trip and so I handed him a buck. Scott has been known to pull quite a few upsets as long as he didn't get name stung. And we all know how it feels to play "name stung."
"Let's get it on." Poor Scott.
"You break first." Tony kind of laughed.
By this time, the owner and manager were smiling. So were the other people in the poolroom. I was pretty interested in how my horse could run with the big dogs, though. I was staking this jaunt. As long as noone told him who it was, I truly thought my all offense player could hang.
Well, hang he did. 7-4 first set to Scott.
"Want to jack it up?"
"Let me check with the Craw."
He walks over and begs to bet $200. "No, let's let him win it back the same way."
Second set, Scott. 7-5. These were no flukes or laydowns, either.
"Now, do you want to jack it up?" Tony barked.
"Hell yeah, bet the $100." Scott couldn't take it.
"Now, let's play. You know Tony Ellin can't lose three in a row. You can't play a lick. Let's get it on."
"Tony Ellin? Tony Ellin? Hell, I didn't know it was you. You're right, I can't play a lick."
Scott unscrewed and walked over and got the time. "I'm done." I thought Tony was gonna have a coronary right then and there. He was throwing balls out and firing them at a hundred miles an hour. Everyone was either laughing or trying not to laugh. Tony was really barking, now. Scott just laughed and bought us a beer.
Moral: Don't tell'em who you are to scare'em. They just might quit.
