Whats the strangest thing you played for?

I dont know that it was necessarily a "odd" bet, however i feel i should share this story, as it is one of my favorites.

When i was in Kuwait, awaiting my flight into Baghdad on my first deployment, they had a REALLY CRAPPY table that was beat to hell, and had one piece HOLLOW ALUMINUM "house cues" with screw on tips on them... So a buddy of mine that used to gamble with me on a fairly regular basis said that we should go see if we could get some "cheap action" in the rec room.

So i stroll in and start surveying the landscape, looking for anyone that might be worth play for a buck or two. Well as it has it, there was a table of 5 or 6 guys all playing together, and doing what i still to this day consider to be the best smack talking i have ever seen.
So i walk up and kindly ask if i could jump in the rotation, and to my surprise (and pleasure), one of the guys spouts off...

You sure you wanna jump in? we are playing for 5 a game (8 ball). So i smiled and said, "i will give it a go, if i can't afford to lose 5 bucks i shouldnt be playing anyway"
So then the fun began, rack after rack... I spent about an hour and a half, 5 bucks at a time, winning, over and over and over. I end up 220 on the plus side, and the "mouth" of the group steps up and gets in my face, saying that i was hustling them.
I calmly stated that, at no point did i downplay my ability, nor did i urge them to continue to play, they kept racking, so i kept playing.

So he says...." tell you what whiteboy, i will bet you 200, that you cant make the 8 on the break"
So i thought to myself... even if i miss, i still walk away 20 ahead, spent an hour and a half playing (with virtually no pressure), had a good time... what was there to loose.

So he racked, i checked the rack, and broke (2nd ball in the rack this time, rather than the head ball)... the 8 doesnt move.
I think to myself "damnit, i just lost 200 on a stupid bet" and then a ball comes off the left cushion and kicks the 8 in the side... MONEY

So i walked away with 440, and ruined my action for the entire rest of my 16 month deployment LOL... lesson learned.
 
nineballsafety8 said:
I dont know that it was necessarily a "odd" bet, however i feel i should share this story, as it is one of my favorites.



When i was in Kuwait, awaiting my flight into Baghdad on my first deployment, they had a REALLY CRAPPY table that was beat to hell, and had one piece HOLLOW ALUMINUM "house cues" with screw on tips on them... So a buddy of mine that used to gamble with me on a fairly regular basis said that we should go see if we could get some "cheap action" in the rec room.



So i stroll in and start surveying the landscape, looking for anyone that might be worth play for a buck or two. Well as it has it, there was a table of 5 or 6 guys all playing together, and doing what i still to this day consider to be the best smack talking i have ever seen.

So i walk up and kindly ask if i could jump in the rotation, and to my surprise (and pleasure), one of the guys spouts off...



You sure you wanna jump in? we are playing for 5 a game (8 ball). So i smiled and said, "i will give it a go, if i can't afford to lose 5 bucks i shouldnt be playing anyway"

So then the fun began, rack after rack... I spent about an hour and a half, 5 bucks at a time, winning, over and over and over. I end up 220 on the plus side, and the "mouth" of the group steps up and gets in my face, saying that i was hustling them.

I calmly stated that, at no point did i downplay my ability, nor did i urge them to continue to play, they kept racking, so i kept playing.



So he says...." tell you what whiteboy, i will bet you 200, that you cant make the 8 on the break"

So i thought to myself... even if i miss, i still walk away 20 ahead, spent an hour and a half playing (with virtually no pressure), had a good time... what was there to loose.



So he racked, i checked the rack, and broke (2nd ball in the rack this time, rather than the head ball)... the 8 doesnt move.

I think to myself "damnit, i just lost 200 on a stupid bet" and then a ball comes off the left cushion and kicks the 8 in the side... MONEY



So i walked away with 440, and ruined my action for the entire rest of my 16 month deployment LOL... lesson learned.
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Great story! :) thx for sharing.


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hmmm

A few things that come to mind. A pair of cowboy boots on several occasions. Always from strangers although a friend wanted to bet his one time too. Never took them, usually had the excuse they didn't fit. Won two cars that I can recall. The first one, the guy handed me the key and when I went outside and saw it was a Rolls Canardly, I gave it back to him! The second one I didn't take either, wasn't worth bothering with. Funny thing, they tried to argue me into taking them.

Offended two people and almost got in a major war, a man wanted to play for a woman he was with, said she was his wife, against fifty dollars after he was broke. They were both offended when I declined!

Could have played for a nice western shirt or hat a few times, never did. Won a few gold chains, some supposedly pretty pricey, tossed them to barmaids as soon as they were won. I have never worn a chain in my life. A leather thong long ago, boot knife under my left arm.

Countless cues, a handful of rings, a bracelet or two, watches, country boys used to never be busted as long as they could put up something for a wager. I won a few tool boxes full of tools too, ladders, various tools of trades. Something else I never took, just played for them to leave the people no doubt that I had stayed with them until they were too poor to party. Got my attention when a fellow pulled a gun after I had plucked him, he just wanted to bet it. I never dealt in the pool of guns floating around bars and pool halls, never knew when a murder rap might be tied to one of them.

Played for some substances a time or three. Broke a guy's heart when he lost and I made him toss it in the toilet while I watched!

Some of the most ferocious gambling ever was the battle for NIB's at benchrest matches, Nabisco vanilla cookies. Lose and the other shooter had bragging rights until the next big match both shooters were at. Lose to some people and they might have bragging rights for a year and they would take full advantage on the benchrest forum!

Hu

PS: Somebody should find the threads about the classic woofing and the betting of a thousand jelly beans between WillieBetMore and BreakUp I believe it was. Rumor has it the winner was shorted a few dozen jelly beans. The picture of the two big jugs of jelly beans on the light was great!
 
My cousin is married to this guy who played quite a bit in his younger yrs, when they were recently married, but they lived in Mexico. I remember her telling me how he would always get home with random things almost every day. Things like boots, hats, shirts, belts, and occasionally jewelry.

I know these aren't strange items per say but it always amazed me how a person could be so desperate that they end up walking home barefoot or shirtless. Those stories always made me feel bad. (For the guy who lost ofcourse)



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Back when I was a young kid there was a yard sale around the corner from our house with a crappy table there that I picked up for 25 bucks balls, cues, chalk, all that good stuff you get with a table. This was before I ever even knew there was serious pool even though my dad is a great player who did the big tournaments I just didn't pay attention, I simply knew he was good. Well my uncle and I (who is 3 years older than I) played for everything you can imagine on that table fishing lures, magazines, money, chores, bikes, games, hot wheel car collections. We were playing every day pretty much on that poor table. Then we got some mini RC cars and we would race them around the table for bets also.
 
Not really as strange, but one of the funnier ones that i saw at my local room. There was a local drunk that drank from open to close. One night a buddy of mine tried to hustle this guy, trying to get him to play one game for five dollars. After hours of barking the drunk bites, so my buddy gives him the break. Needless to say the drunk makes the eight on the break. So my buddy tries to fire back at him, but the drunk told him " you said one game for five bucks" and kept the cash!
 
A friend of mine

was playing a match where the loser had to shave off his eyebrows. Sure enough, my friend lost, and shaved off his eyebrows. He looked kind of funny for about 3 months.... lol
 
Won about a year of lawn mowing from a local landscaping gambler. That was really nice when the summer temps were around 100 degrees.

A local Whataburger manager used to frequent the pool hall on his break times. He couldnt beat anyone in the place, and whoever got matched up with him, would take everyones orders and collect the bounty. We got fed for about 6 months.
 
1994, at, "55 Special", in Barrie, ON.

I was just trying to get acclimatized to living in a new city and stopped at a local pub. The bar is raised up on a dais and around the edges of the divider separating the lounge area from the rest of the place are a line of Valley barboxes that you watch from above. It's a nice enough place, polished oak bar and brass rails all around. It's still the afternoon so it's fairly quiet with all of the respectable lot down at the waterfront.

No one's playing on the tables and I'm just checking them out. It was so rare to see these 7' tables in good condition. There's a biker sitting at the side of the bar with his girlfriend who's decent enough looking. I notice she keeps looking at me, but I'm still deciding if this will be a good place to hang out. After all, everyone needs a local pub.

This is still back in the days of being able to smoke inside, so I light one and take a stroll to the semi-private area in the back. There are two more Valley tables there, framed with windows and the dreaded sunshine peeking in. I'm still new to this whole city-living thing having been raised, in a swampy area between three small towns. Being in a bar like this is kind of a treat for me, we really didn't have places like this back home. The best we could do was the kind of bar that you used a paint scraper on the surface of any table you sat at before resting your hands on.

I walk back over to my seat, and look up to one of the many TVs built into the top of the bar. There's some random 9-ball tourney on ESPN and I shake my head when one of the players misses an easy shot. Suddenly the biker at the end of the bar speaks up;

"You think you could do better?"

I'm thinking to myself this guy is probably a little drunk and a lot violent by the looks of him and the sound of his voice. I just reply that it looked fairly easy and I was surprised.

"You play pool then eh?", he slurs. I nod in reply, still unsure if I really want to get into a conversation with him at all. I'm happy with my pint and this dimly lit place and not really interested in being stabbed or shot. (You need to remember, I'm not a city guy at this point and various horror movies stories of outlaw gangs are running through my head).

"Yeah, well, I'll bet my b**ch against your cue!" he shouts.

I had actually forgotten I brought a cue into this place up until now. I look at his girlfriend and she smiles for the first time. She's missing about 5 teeth. She nods vehemently and brushes her chest as if she's an amazing prize to be had. I'm thinking she just wanted to get away from him.

I decline, and then he asks, "What, you think she's not worth it?" He repeats his offer, "My b**ch against your cue!"

I just kept telling him I couldn't play that well, paid my bill, and listened to him go on about how good he was at pool. It seems like hours must have went by, but I'm sure in retrospect it was less than 60 seconds between when he made his offer and I backed out of the bar. Something told me turning my back on him was a bad idea. I found out later he was a local drug dealer with a very bad disposition and gambling habit. I never did go back there alone again.

I guess I can't say I actually, "played" for this strange thing. But then again, I neither wanted to win the prize, nor lose my cue. It was one of the best decisions I think I ever made.
 
Smorg classic...

I can't believe anyone hasn't mentioned Smorg's match when he played someone called (I think) Jim-Bob for his "Bob".

This was back in the old RSB days. Smorg, of course, won and started calling himself 'Tampa Tubby-Bob' while poor Jim-Bob was only allowed to call himself Jim at Planet 9-ball thereafter.

Someone with a better memory than me could probably add the details...
 
Monkey Hustlin said:
So i was recently in Ohio trying to get some action. I noticed two average players who didn't really get into any action. One night i saw these guys playing each other, going hard like they were playing couple hundred dollar sets. It ended up they were playing for chicken wings, that's right orders of chicken wings from the bar. While i am watching a guy calls me out for 5 a game 9 ball. I win the first two games and he pulls up. He pays me with a ten dollar gift card to Walmart. I laughed at him, he said check the card so i did. Sure enough it had a ten dollar balance on it. I can't turn down, it's real money. All in all it was a funny night.
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Some ones first born Child!!!!!!!!:grin:
 
I was out one night with a lady friend of mine, simply a friend nothing more, and she & I were taking on all comers on the barbox. Two dudes put a quarter up & she smack talks them into a bet...$50 if we win, he gets a date with her if we lose. She hands the cue to me and I break & run for the $50. That woman is now my wife. We like to tell people that I won her in a pool bet.

A dude in our local pool hall hustled a kid out of every dollar he had on him. They played the last set for the kid's tennis shoes. He felt a little guilty, so he gave the shoes back.
 
by request, the story of Tampa Tubby Bob

The Hamster said:
I can't believe anyone hasn't mentioned Smorg's match when he played someone called (I think) Jim-Bob for his "Bob".

This was back in the old RSB days. Smorg, of course, won and started calling himself 'Tampa Tubby-Bob' while poor Jim-Bob was only allowed to call himself Jim at Planet 9-ball thereafter.

Someone with a better memory than me could probably add the details...
Click to expand...

here is the story from Smorg. Because of who Smorg was every word may be gospel, every word a myth, or somewhere in between. That was part of Smorg's mystique, we never really knew who he was or which of his many persona was really him if any was. Maybe they all were?

(Tampa Tubby Bob)
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ...... <insert flashback music here> I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.

Anyway, that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home with ALL the amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000 157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).

After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the 'shucker' employed. The bar area had a 4x8 pooltable and the proximity to the beach and the breeze had it in the lower 50?. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh).

All the locals wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his nose).

This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break. I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'. At first, he thought that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe Beach,Fl.

I got down to the eightball and Jim-Bob said that I had to 'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'. Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob".

At the same time,everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was divestated. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and give him an opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.

I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach and he assures me NO ONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that the word has spread up & down the beach. They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm thinking about breaking out my sling,walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it REALLY exciting. I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any better than this?

He really did show up at a pool get together wearing eye-patch, arm in sling, removable cast on his leg, and using a walker. Seems he was supposed to gamble with someone that only knew him on the internet and he was looking to get a nice handicap!

Doug had a thousand more stories and nobody loved life or enjoyed making his own fun more than he did. He will be missed for years to come.

Hu
 
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Wow!

ShootingArts said:
here is the story from Smorg. Because of who Smorg was every word may be gospel, every word a myth, or somewhere in between. That was part of Smorg's mystique, we never really knew who he was or which of his many persona was really him if any was. Maybe they all were?

(Tampa Tubby Bob)
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ...... <insert flashback music here> I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.

Anyway, that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home with ALL the amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000 157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).

After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the 'shucker' employed. The bar area had a 4x8 pooltable and the proximity to the beach and the breeze had it in the lower 50?. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh).

All the locals wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his nose).

This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break. I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'. At first, he thought that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe Beach,Fl.

I got down to the eightball and Jim-Bob said that I had to 'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'. Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob".

At the same time,everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was divestated. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and give him an opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.

I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach and he assures me NO ONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that the word has spread up & down the beach. They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm thinking about breaking out my sling,walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it REALLY exciting. I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any better than this?

He really did show up at a pool get together wearing eye-patch, arm in sling, removable cast on his leg, and using a walker. Seems he was supposed to gamble with someone that only knew him on the internet and he was looking to get a nice handicap!

Doug had a thousand more stories and nobody loved life or enjoyed making his own fun more than he did. He will be missed for years to come.

Hu
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That is a great read!! Ha ha ha, suckers will bet anything!! That's awesome!
 
Played for a nice backpack once, don't forget your buddy style.

Don't forget your buddy is where you have to look at your opponent on the last shot to win. Sometimes it was bank don't forget.

Your buddy had to stand out in the field of view somewhere.
 
I saw the owner's girl play a mentally slow guy. He put up his captain america shoes to her twenty bucks. She won then he ran out and has not wore or brought the shoes back in to this day.
 
AzHousePro said:
Our local pool room had a regular ring game for pushups at one time years ago.

I also played the room owner once for a week's worth of bows. The loser (me) had to bow to the winner the first we saw each other each day. This was during a time when I was at the pool room every day.

Mike
Click to expand...

we use to do same thing but for lights we smoked the winner could collect anytime they chose i would wait till it was packed and they where on the other side of the poolhall and i would yell there name and point at my cigarette if it was the right person it was better then $$ those where the days
 
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