Worst Sportsmanship.
- Thread starter jazz_jg
- Start date
No matter what, you shake hands with your opponent whether its a win or a loss.
What if you saw him in the restroom before the match and he didn't wash his hands?
Sorry, I have to disagree with everything you said except No. 1!
What if you saw him just pick his nose? What if he's a leper? What if he has bandages? What if he doesn't have a hand?
How about shake his hand unless there is a real reason not to. (Then maybe a knucklebump or some other gesture of respect. Oh, yeah, it's 2011, we don't need to show respect any more.)
Sheesh.
Point 1. I agree compleetly.
Point 2. I agree as well. (with one reservation) You shake hands with the winner as a way of rubing your nose in your loss. Failure to shake hands brings us to point 3. The only thing worse than losing is having your opponent throw the match.
Point 3. I disagree with emphatically. Don't draw attention to your loss. It makes one look like a loser.
Point 4. I don't care how other players play. The only play I can change is my own.
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JK
about 20 years ago when i was first learning how to play, i got beat by this old guy for 40bucks with a stump and a one finger one thumb claw. we played snooker, his first inning to the table he was on a run of 40 something and said to me:
"whasssamatter kid! don't like gettin beat by a cripple!!"
after i lost shaking hands later was weird:embarrassed2:
That would probably be Tommy 'The Gasman' Albertson. He used to play a lot of One Pocket and Straight Pool, back in the 80's.
Just before a big money match, Tommy's strategy was to load up on beans. Pinto beans, Great Northerns, Garbonzos, Beans and Franks. It didn't matter. Whatever he could get his hands on. Then a couple of hours later, by the time he got to the poolhall, he was ready to go.
Tommy knew he wasn't the greatest shot maker in the world so every time his opponent had a shot lined up that might open up the table for a run, or possibly an out, Tommy would quietly walk by, peer over the guy's shoulder as if he were interested, and cut a fart that would rattle the windows. When the fellow turned around and looked at him, Tommy would simply say. "Oh, pardon me." And walk over to his chair.
Well, not only was the sound of Tommy's farts distracting to his opponents, but the smell was gut-wrenchingly unbelievable, and it effected everone else in the place as well. I've seen men with red, watery eyes, sitting quietly, not wanting to disturb the air. I've seen Women faint. Beer would go flat and cheese fries would taste like they had been dipped in...cheese. One night Tommy was walking across the poolhall parking lot when he accidentally cut one loose and a bird fell dead from a tree limb.
Last I heard old Tommy was still playing, although not as much as he used to. Word was he had perforated his colon and had to ease up on the legumes.
Those were the the days.
Just before a big money match, Tommy's strategy was to load up on beans. Pinto beans, Great Northerns, Garbonzos, Beans and Franks. It didn't matter. Whatever he could get his hands on. Then a couple of hours later, by the time he got to the poolhall, he was ready to go.
Tommy knew he wasn't the greatest shot maker in the world so every time his opponent had a shot lined up that might open up the table for a run, or possibly an out, Tommy would quietly walk by, peer over the guy's shoulder as if he were interested, and cut a fart that would rattle the windows. When the fellow turned around and looked at him, Tommy would simply say. "Oh, pardon me." And walk over to his chair.
Well, not only was the sound of Tommy's farts distracting to his opponents, but the smell was gut-wrenchingly unbelievable, and it effected everone else in the place as well. I've seen men with red, watery eyes, sitting quietly, not wanting to disturb the air. I've seen Women faint. Beer would go flat and cheese fries would taste like they had been dipped in...cheese. One night Tommy was walking across the poolhall parking lot when he accidentally cut one loose and a bird fell dead from a tree limb.
Last I heard old Tommy was still playing, although not as much as he used to. Word was he had perforated his colon and had to ease up on the legumes.
Those were the the days.
That would probably be Tommy 'The Gasman' Albertson. He used to play a lot of One Pocket and Straight Pool, back in the 80's.
Just before a big money match, Tommy's strategy was to load up on beans. Pinto beans, Great Northerns, Garbonzos, Beans and Franks. It didn't matter. Whatever he could get his hands on. Then a couple of hours later, by the time he got to the poolhall, he was ready to go.
Tommy knew he wasn't the greatest shot maker in the world so every time his opponent had a shot lined up that might open up the table for a run, or possibly an out, Tommy would quietly walk by, peer over the guy's shoulder as if he were interested, and cut a fart that would rattle the windows. When the fellow turned around and looked at him, Tommy would simply say. "Oh, pardon me." And walk over to his chair.
Well, not only was the sound of Tommy's farts distracting to his opponents, but the smell was gut-wrenchingly unbelievable, and it effected everone else in the place as well. I've seen men with red, watery eyes, sitting quietly, not wanting to disturb the air. I've seen Women faint. Beer would go flat and cheese fries would taste like they had been dipped in...cheese. One night Tommy was walking across the poolhall parking lot when he accidentally cut one loose and a bird fell dead from a tree limb.
Last I heard old Tommy was still playing, although not as much as he used to. Word was he had perforated his colon and had to ease up on the legumes.
Those were the the days.
Ok Tramp this actually had me in tears, FYI ~cuebuddy may borrow this
.
If he doesn't have a hand that could explain why you just beat him.
....................
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What if he has no sense of humor?
Hahaha then that changes things!
Okay, seriously, with regards to shaking hands at the end of a match... I have always made it a point of shaking my opponent's hand at the end of a match, win or lose. Last Thursday night I had an experience that has me rethinking my approach to showing end-of-the-match respect.
I played in a local WBCA scotch doubles 8 ball tournament. I did pretty well, finishing 7th place out of a bracket of 26 teams, so I was there playing for several hours. Most of my matches just happened to take place on a table that was RIGHT NEXT TO the men's room... I mean, literally, guys coming out of the loo sometimes had to wait for the shooter to take their shot and stand up just to have room to step out of the bathroom. The pool hall was crowded, and there was lots of beer drinking going on, so there was quite a bit of traffic in and out of the bathroom. I didn't think too much about it until later in the night, after I'd been playing for about 3 hours, a guy came out of the bathroom shaking water from his hands... he said that there weren't any paper towels in the bathroom, so I handed him a napkin that I had near my gear. For a moment I wondered how long the paper towel dispenser had been empty, since he was the only man who came out of the bathroom with wet hands. Anyway, for the rest of the evening I knew there were no paper towels in that bathroom... and for the rest of the evening I didn't see ONE OTHER MAN come out of that loo with wet hands!!!!
Thank you, Justadub, for the idea of bumping knuckles... I think that you just resolved my dilemma of how to show respect without concern about where their hand has been.
You don't suppose that was Tommy Albertson do you? Naw, that couldn't have been him. Tommy would have asked you to pull his finger.