I've posted this story before, but I always come back to it when someone ask the question:
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I think I was 9 or 10. I went with my Dad to pick up my sister at the
Masonic Temple. She was waiting at the Temple in a rec. room playing 8-ball on this 9' table. I'd never really played before but was fascinated by the click of the balls. Neither my sister nor her friend had a clue as to what they were doing, but occassionally, one of them would catch a ball just right. The ball would hit the leather pocket with that wonderful *thwap* sound.
My sister let my father and me play a bit before we went home. For a guy who never plays, my dad has some obvious natural talent. Being Filipino, my father only knew one game: rotation. So that was the first game that I knew, as far as rules go.
In that first magical rack, I couldn't make a straight shot to save my life. I was able to make all of two balls: a bank on the 5, and a kick on the 13. My father apparently feeling no need to praise his young son on these accomplishments rewarded me with "lucky shot" on each.
And such was the spark that lit my burning desire. I never wanted to hear him tell me "lucky shot" again.
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Now, I don't tell people that I've been playing pool since I was 9. That would be horseshit. I actually got my real start when i was 16. I worked in the kitchen of a summer camp for the whole summer. There was a 9' Brunswick in the basement of that kitchen, so I spent most of my free time on that table. I ran a 36 in straight pool, not having a clue about pattern play. And we played "call all the ridiculous details" including rubbing the approach cushion, playing 8-ball. Good times.
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I think I was 9 or 10. I went with my Dad to pick up my sister at the
Masonic Temple. She was waiting at the Temple in a rec. room playing 8-ball on this 9' table. I'd never really played before but was fascinated by the click of the balls. Neither my sister nor her friend had a clue as to what they were doing, but occassionally, one of them would catch a ball just right. The ball would hit the leather pocket with that wonderful *thwap* sound.
My sister let my father and me play a bit before we went home. For a guy who never plays, my dad has some obvious natural talent. Being Filipino, my father only knew one game: rotation. So that was the first game that I knew, as far as rules go.
In that first magical rack, I couldn't make a straight shot to save my life. I was able to make all of two balls: a bank on the 5, and a kick on the 13. My father apparently feeling no need to praise his young son on these accomplishments rewarded me with "lucky shot" on each.
And such was the spark that lit my burning desire. I never wanted to hear him tell me "lucky shot" again.
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Now, I don't tell people that I've been playing pool since I was 9. That would be horseshit. I actually got my real start when i was 16. I worked in the kitchen of a summer camp for the whole summer. There was a 9' Brunswick in the basement of that kitchen, so I spent most of my free time on that table. I ran a 36 in straight pool, not having a clue about pattern play. And we played "call all the ridiculous details" including rubbing the approach cushion, playing 8-ball. Good times.
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