Michael "Geese" Gerace was the best one-handed player I'd ever seen. He could draw his rock the length of the table without his cue touching a rail. That's pretty strong.
In the '80s era, we got a call from a mayor of a town up in Pennsylvania who happened to like staking pool players. Geese and I had been up in that region before hustling, and we met the mayor. He took us around a few spots. I remember one bar in Morgantown, WV that had a ton of action, and the town of Morgantown had a pool room that you walked downstairs to, just like on that movie "The Hustler."
Anyway, one day Geese got a call from the mayor who said he wanted Geese to come up right away, that he'd pay him $200 to just show up, win or lose. Apparently, there was a stranger in town looking for action.
Geese and I wasted no time packing, and we were on the road again. It was only about a 3-hour drive. When we got to town, though, it was on a Sunday, and wouldn't you know that all the pool spots were closed in this region, except one bowling alley in Altoona. The mayor negotiated the logistics, and we were to all meet at this bowling alley in Altoona.
Off we went. We got there first, with the mayor in tow, and Geese started hitting balls. An hour goes by, and we're thinking that the stranger in town was going to be a no-show. But then he pops in with his entourage and doesn't even check out the table. He had long straggily blond hair and was wearing boots. Most pool players in this generation of action men wore Nikes or tennis shoes. Nobody wore boots, unless they were from Texas, and these were some odd-looking boots, just about as scraggily as his hair. He pulls a coin out of his pocket and said, "Call it. Heads or tails." :grin-square:
Well, anybody who knows Geese is aware that he cannot tolerate losing to anyone. When he can't stay in the lead in a match, he has a meltdown, similar to Earl Strickland, but in Geese's case, it can get violent. I saw him throw a 9-ball across the pool room as hard as he could in the Maryland State Championship one time as he was racking the balls. Fortunately, it didn't hit anybody. I remember Cigar Tom's (Tom Vanover) wife saying to me, "If that was my man, I'd break that cue stick over his head." :embarrassed2:
The match was a race to 10, if memory serves me right, for $1,000, 9-ball on a Brunswick 9-footer. Now, 9-ball was *not* Geese's best game, but he could keep up with the best of 'em when it came to action. It was a brutal match to watch in the beginning. The stranger would win one, and then Geese would win two. The stranger would win two, and then Geese would win one. Back and forth, back and forth. I could see the blood boiling in Geese's neck veins, and I started to wonder where the nearest Greyhound station was, so I could get a ride home. No way was I getting in the car with him if he lost.
Then, like a streak of greatness for Geese or a lack of endurance from the stranger, Geese surged forward and won the match. I remember the stranger never smiled. He unscrewed his cue and left as fast as he blew in town. Geese was happy, and so was I. We drove off into the sunset with a little more cheese than we came with, and that was always a good thing. :thumbup:
20 years or more later, I returned to the pool scene and went to a tournament at some bar in Maryland, close to the Ocean City. I can't remember the name, but they were having a big pool tournament there. A local kid named Cutty was popular at this time, and he could play, loved action too, to include poker. The finals came down to Cutty and this out-of-towner I'd never seen before. The people I came with got knocked out. I was running a poker game back in my hotel room, whiuch was a suite up the road, but I wanted to sweat the finals and pull for Cutty to win, mainly because I was hoping he'd come back to my suite and play poker, giving us a chance to bust him.
Well, Cutty lost, but he still came to my poker game. The out-of-towner ended up being a strong player. I watched him collecting his dough, wondering if I should approach him and invite him to play in my poker game. As I walked up to him, I looked down at his feet, and I couldn't believe my eyes. He was wearing the most god-awful ugly boots I'd ever seen, and then it hit me. I stared at his face and asked him about Altoona. I soon found out that I was standing in front of the legendary Scotty Townsend. What a small pool world it is sometimes! :embarrassed2:
In 2006, Keith and I drove to Las Vegas for an IPT event, and Keith and Scotty, it turns out, were good buddies. I couldn't believe this guy was the same Scotty Townsend I had previously run into. What a hunk Scotty Townsend is today, a really nice-looking gentleman. Who'd ever think this guy was a road agent! :grin-loving:
