Last night I was playing a tourney in Clarksville Tn. Don't play too many tourneys away from my local room. But I may start after last night. Fist I see Karen Corr in there playing and what do you know my first match is against her. Before I started playing I watched this woman play a lot of pool on ESPN. I tried not to worry to much about who I was playing, Tried to get it my head that was gonna beat her just like she was anyone else. Then she promptly whipped my ass 5-0. A very nice woman and a great pool player. I went on and finished one match out of the money. A lot of people would piss and moan about someone like that playing in a tourney like this, but I enjoyed it. I left when I got put out, but I'm sure she probably won it.
What were some of your experiences? Did you let your self get star struck or just not worry about who it was?
I had to think about this for a moment and then realized the first time I played a pro was Frank McGowan,14.1 World Champ, in an exhibition.
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I've told this story before, but whaddahey, it fits:
Back in the late 70's I was stationed at Malmstrom Air Force Base, just outside of Great Falls, MT. One year, The Corner Pocket up there decided to bring in Frank McGowan, former 14.1 champ, for an exhibition. The manager asked if I'd be willing to be the sitting duck and play him 125 points of straight pool, before McGowan shot some trick shots. I said sure.
Well, I don't know what I was thinking. But I had seen Mosconi do his exhibition several times before. And I kinda suspected that McGowan would follow the usual routine for these affairs and show up in a suit, or a coat and tie. So, for reasons that are still unclear to me today, I decided that the appropriate thing for me to do in this situation was to also wear a suit. The only problem was that, at the time, I only owned one suit. It was a perfectly fine suit: a three-piece; in light gray; white shirt; bright red tie.
Think Bond. James Bond.
So it's time for the exhibition. There's a room full of people around one table and McGowan comes in, and I don't know, he takes one look at me -- three-piece suit; in light gray; white shirt; bright red tie -- and he kinda goes catatonic or something. I guess it would be like going out duck hunting and the first duck you see flies by in a tux.
Well, somehow I get the first shot. Clearly, I've thrown Frank off his game.
I start to run the balls. I get into the second rack. And then the third. Frank goes to the bathroom. I get into the fourth rack. The balls are *wide open.* And then comes the shot that I still remember today: a little baby two ball combination on the rail behind the rack that, as Danny McGoorty would have said, a drunk Girl Scout could've made if you held her up to the table long enough.
And I took it for granted and I hung up the ball.
I was told afterwards, by a friend who went into the bathroom at that point, that McGowan was in there washing his hands. When my buddy told him that I had just missed, McGowan went, "He missed?!" And McGowan comes flying out and quickly proceeds to make a dish of, "Shredded Duck ala Lou," with an 80-something run and then a 50-something.
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My First
Lou Figueroa