Your worst beating story
- Thread starter fjk
- Start date
I remember that time, I bet on you.I posted
I played
I lost
Back when I was in my late 20's, maybe early 30's, I was playing in an International Moose Tournament in Virgina. I had won the 9ball event the previous year but went two and out this time.
Since I was already out of the tournament, I started some quick little gambling matches, races to 3 for $50 on a barbox, welcoming anyone that wanted to play. I was drinking quite a bit and having a hell of a good time winning. But that would soon change.
I was up about 400 or 500 dollars and was waiting for the next fish to swim up. That turned out to be a player named Greg Taylor, local Virginia state 9ball champ. Of course, I had no idea who he was and the liquor in my head didn't really care. But the fact that he walked in with an entourage should've clued me in on the beatdown I was about to receive.
Mr. Taylor took all of my winnings in no time. It was like my arms had fallen off and my brain had run somewhere to take a nap. But Greg Taylor is good man, because he spared me the humiliation of busting me flat. He said, "I know you can play, but you're drunk. And I'm not going to keep robbing you." I paid him and thanked him, then he and his party of supporters walked out.
I had about $400 left in my pocket now. A big dude named Oscar said he'd play me a race to 3 for $100 if I gave him the 8. So I did. And I lost. Then I lost again. Then, after much arguing and another drink or two, we played even. I lost again. And again.
With empty pockets I walked over to a buddy of mine and asked if I could borrow a hundred dollars. He said absolutely not, told me I was too drunk to be playing pool. I said, Ron...I'm busted, broke...just wanna borrow a hundred. I'm not going to play anymore play tonight.
Ron (aka "The Badger") peeled 5 Jacksons off his bank roll and handed them to me. I immediately went to the pool table, spread the bills out in front of Oscar and asked if he wanted to go outside and fight for $100. Keep in mind, at 5'10" I was probably no more than a buck-sixty soaking wet. Oscar stood 6ft tall or more and outweighed me by 150 pounds, easily.
My friend, Ron, when he heard my $100 fight proposition, began to make his way out of the booth, saying "BC, no! I want that hundred back now!"
But to my surprise, Oscar turned down my bet. In fact, he called me crazy. I stressed that it would be a toe to toe style boxing match, not a kicking and dragging and stomping style of fight. Very respectful. First man to say "I've had enough" would be declared the loser. But he stuck with his answer....no fight.
Another man who was seated nearby spoke up. He said, "If I was twenty years younger I'd take you up on that fight, kid." I just looked at him. He reminded me of my grandpa. Then I told him, "If you were twenty years younger, you'd probably lose." Everybody laughed, even the old guy.
I shoved the borrowed money back into my pocket and left, went to bed.
The next day I drank nothing and finished 2nd out of 138 players in 8ball. I guess I was lucky. I mean, I could've taken a beating on the table AND outside. I'm not sure if I ever thanked Oscar ("Big O") for refusing to take me up on that fight offer. That was nice of him.
Since I was already out of the tournament, I started some quick little gambling matches, races to 3 for $50 on a barbox, welcoming anyone that wanted to play. I was drinking quite a bit and having a hell of a good time winning. But that would soon change.
I was up about 400 or 500 dollars and was waiting for the next fish to swim up. That turned out to be a player named Greg Taylor, local Virginia state 9ball champ. Of course, I had no idea who he was and the liquor in my head didn't really care. But the fact that he walked in with an entourage should've clued me in on the beatdown I was about to receive.
Mr. Taylor took all of my winnings in no time. It was like my arms had fallen off and my brain had run somewhere to take a nap. But Greg Taylor is good man, because he spared me the humiliation of busting me flat. He said, "I know you can play, but you're drunk. And I'm not going to keep robbing you." I paid him and thanked him, then he and his party of supporters walked out.
I had about $400 left in my pocket now. A big dude named Oscar said he'd play me a race to 3 for $100 if I gave him the 8. So I did. And I lost. Then I lost again. Then, after much arguing and another drink or two, we played even. I lost again. And again.
With empty pockets I walked over to a buddy of mine and asked if I could borrow a hundred dollars. He said absolutely not, told me I was too drunk to be playing pool. I said, Ron...I'm busted, broke...just wanna borrow a hundred. I'm not going to play anymore play tonight.
Ron (aka "The Badger") peeled 5 Jacksons off his bank roll and handed them to me. I immediately went to the pool table, spread the bills out in front of Oscar and asked if he wanted to go outside and fight for $100. Keep in mind, at 5'10" I was probably no more than a buck-sixty soaking wet. Oscar stood 6ft tall or more and outweighed me by 150 pounds, easily.
My friend, Ron, when he heard my $100 fight proposition, began to make his way out of the booth, saying "BC, no! I want that hundred back now!"
But to my surprise, Oscar turned down my bet. In fact, he called me crazy. I stressed that it would be a toe to toe style boxing match, not a kicking and dragging and stomping style of fight. Very respectful. First man to say "I've had enough" would be declared the loser. But he stuck with his answer....no fight.
Another man who was seated nearby spoke up. He said, "If I was twenty years younger I'd take you up on that fight, kid." I just looked at him. He reminded me of my grandpa. Then I told him, "If you were twenty years younger, you'd probably lose." Everybody laughed, even the old guy.
I shoved the borrowed money back into my pocket and left, went to bed.
The next day I drank nothing and finished 2nd out of 138 players in 8ball. I guess I was lucky. I mean, I could've taken a beating on the table AND outside. I'm not sure if I ever thanked Oscar ("Big O") for refusing to take me up on that fight offer. That was nice of him.
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This happens a lot, if you should run out and you don't, it's very hard to get back to a winning position. If I miss the 8 often after a run out, then the rest of the game, even against bad players, I often could not get another clear shot at it and loose.
Somewhere around 86 or 87, I played in a triple elimination tournament in Erie PA. For some reason I cannot understand or explain, I asked Dennis Hatch to play some $20 9 ball. I think Dennis was around 17 at the time and I was a few years older. We started around 10 or 11pm. I didn't play my best, but I played my regular game and actually held up pretty well...for a few hours.
Looking back, I don't think Dennis had much money on him because he looked pretty tight. For the first few hours I was hovering around even or behind one or two games. When his lead finally crept up to around four games, that cushion seemed to lube up his elbow some and he started firing on all cylinders. It seemed like every time he stepped to the table he was stringing together packages on me. I believe I quit down around 25 games or so.
I don't know why Dennis didn't make a bigger splash with the pros, but there's only a few people who could make the game look as easy as Dennis could once he caught his gear.
Looking back, I don't think Dennis had much money on him because he looked pretty tight. For the first few hours I was hovering around even or behind one or two games. When his lead finally crept up to around four games, that cushion seemed to lube up his elbow some and he started firing on all cylinders. It seemed like every time he stepped to the table he was stringing together packages on me. I believe I quit down around 25 games or so.
I don't know why Dennis didn't make a bigger splash with the pros, but there's only a few people who could make the game look as easy as Dennis could once he caught his gear.
skipped school to go downtown in Toronto. i was 16, real good snooker player. set up a match for 2.00/ game. seen the guy play before, he cant run 20 points. i get 5 up and he is mad. i give him the option of double or nothing. i get up 3 frames. he takes out his glass eye places it on the rail behind the black spot, says your turn. i cant make a ball to save my life, looking at the eye. lost 5/3. next time i played him, NO EYE on the table, i beat him double.
I was working on the road around 99, I stopped in Oklahoma and played $40 one pocket. I had never met any of the locals, but just couldn't stop playing this guy.Everybody likes to share their scores, but beatdown stories are even more fun. I have lots. Extra points for naming names and providing dates and locations.
Pool stories are my favorites, but other are good too
We raised it to $80 and I went off like a rocket!! Just got caught up...
Not like me and never again.
dquarasr
Registered
posuiI posted
I played
I lost
lusi
perdidi
Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as “vini, vidi, vicci”, does it, but it works.
phreaticus
Well-known member
Well that is the best story of the thread so far! I still go off sometimes, but nothing too exciting. Here’s a minor recent tale…
Local dive bar has nice Diamond barboxes, weekly tourneys & a decent little action scene, which is fairly hard to find around here. Since I started playing again last year, I’ve become a semi regular and thought I’d met all the local players that have real game.
A few weeks ago, its the regular Sunday afternoon 8b tournament and I join in. A new elder tall gentleman with a silver mane of hair is there and torturing everyone in fun practice games before the tourney kicks off, clearly has a smooth stroke. I ask around and apparently this guy is supposedly an ex pro from the 80-90’s that is known by a few locals but hasn’t been around for a few years. Sure enough he snaps off the tourney undefeated. A hustler/nutter buddy of mine gets 2nd, I get 3rd.
I’m eager to see how good this older guy plays and if/how he gambles, so I stir up my favorite 9b+6b ring game, $10 on the 5b, 9b, 15b. The old guy hops right in, along with my crazy buddy & one other guy. We’re all imbibing liberally & having fun, but the old guy is wisely sticking to sodas. After an hour, the old guy and I are both up about $40 each on the other two, and dead even with each other. The 2 other guys quit and my nit buddy who lost the tourney to him tells me “dude, there’s no way either of us can beat this guy he’s a champ”.
I’m playing fine & keeping up just fine, so I ask the old guy if he wants to continue the same game 1:1 & jack the bet a bit. By this time its 11pm ish, most of the regular pool crowd have left, we’ve been playing all day and honestly I assumed he’d pack it up and we’d be done. To my surprise he’s up for it.
We start battling and go back & forth for a while about even. After about an hour I’m starving and make a late night taco run for us. While we’re on break eating and I chat him up a bit. Super nice guy, but a bit reserved. Turns out he’s 74 yrs old, lost his wife not too long ago and hasn’t been playing much the last 2 yrs. We resume, and he slowly starts to get a few $$ balls up on me. We only have an hour left before the bar closes. We go to $40 a ball, which I think is the best way to go since time is short.
After a bit, I realize I haven’t broke in a while, haven’t seen anything but a kick in 20 min or so and am now down about $200. By this tine, I’m fully sobered up but its too late. It also dawns on me that he’s now breaking perfect and not missing even though he’s not stringing together seamless packages. He’s running most racks almost fully out then playing perfect pro safeties. I’m mostly sitting down & watching him very closely now. I can’t find any real flaws in his game and admit to myself that even in full stroke I can’t beat this guy, at least tonight. By closing time, I’ve hemorrhaged $400 or so.
I’m pretty sure he was working me over & I’m still not sure how good he is. I do know that I’m a knucklehead and I got closed out by a 75 yr old that hung with me till 2am and I probably should listen better to my crazy buddy’s advice.
The plan is to get him on big tables and try some 1p. I’m a glutton for punishment and probably delusional, but I learned a lot that night & consider it good investment. And I sure hope I have his energy and skill level at 75. I told him so, meaning it as a sincere compliment. To top it all off, he got me with a wicked 1-liner as we parted. “The good thing about me being almost 25 years older than you - is that you still have 20 years of practice to try to get there!”
Great fun!
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I'm just sweating the rail.
Fats is playing a really good 1Pocket player from Du Quoin, IL
The Du Quoin guy was winning BIG.
After every game Fats worked the room for side bets.
Whether he lost or not.
When the side got up, The game changed.
Fats Won!!
Unfortunately, being a punk, I didn't know shit.
Fats literally broke me.
I was a Punk,
Fats is playing a really good 1Pocket player from Du Quoin, IL
The Du Quoin guy was winning BIG.
After every game Fats worked the room for side bets.
Whether he lost or not.
When the side got up, The game changed.
Fats Won!!
Unfortunately, being a punk, I didn't know shit.
Fats literally broke me.
I was a Punk,
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Kinda sounds like you’re drunkenly naming Mario Bros characters
Those are the cousins
Or even veni, vidi, vici.
As for my worst loss, that was probably when I was giving up a small spot at 9 ball (the safe 8) and lost 17 games in a row. It was like I was inventing ways to lose. If it was possible to leave the cue ball behind the 9 for 8 shape, I'd do it. And then there were the scratches. After about 10 racks, I was fascinated watching the train wreck. The good news is that we were only playing for 50 cents.
Bob <-- had a week of Latin in high school by mistake.
dquarasr
Registered
Or even veni, vidi, vici.
Bob <-- had a week of Latin in high school by mistake.
Oh, crap. I HATE when I spell words rong, which isn’t offen.
Yes that is what you call stupid mistake that make you looser.
Sadly hind sight is saying if, or if, or I should have.
Everyone has good himdsight.
Ok. Now I really wish I was back in the bay. I know who you played. Where you played and probably could guess your hustler/nutter friend with under 5 tries.
Yeah, I think you should absolutely get him on the big tables and play him 1-pocket. Those old guys can't play 1-hole for crap.
When I first moved to the Bay Area back in 2004 or so I preferred to play on 9' tables but played a lot on bar tables. I moved from Colorado and 9' tables there have usually at least 4.5" pockets. The tight tables are around 4.25".
So I decided to put my money in and play in the annual 9-ball tournament at Family Billiards. Warming up I couldn't make a ball. The pockets there were 3 7/8". Holy moly. It got in my head. Well, I thought, just calm down and try to make the shots, it's tough for everybody.
So of course, never having played on anything so tight, I draw Tony Chohan first round. Not really able to get in stroke. lol.
He's running out walking around the table shooting one handed talking on his cell phone. I'm jawing straight in shots. He beat me 7-0 in about 23 minutes.
This was the tournament that later became the Cole Dickson tournament.
So I decided to put my money in and play in the annual 9-ball tournament at Family Billiards. Warming up I couldn't make a ball. The pockets there were 3 7/8". Holy moly. It got in my head. Well, I thought, just calm down and try to make the shots, it's tough for everybody.
So of course, never having played on anything so tight, I draw Tony Chohan first round. Not really able to get in stroke. lol.
He's running out walking around the table shooting one handed talking on his cell phone. I'm jawing straight in shots. He beat me 7-0 in about 23 minutes.
This was the tournament that later became the Cole Dickson tournament.
phreaticus
Well-known member
Cool, PM me lets compare notes! I’ll take all the old local steering info I can get, clearly I need it!
Well, he mentioned that he wasn’t really a 1p player, so figured I’d try to find out how true that was. Likely to be another expensive experiment, but I’m willing to be abused againYeah, I think you should absolutely get him on the big tables and play him 1-pocket. Those old guys can't play 1-hole for crap.
Missed by thaaat much as Maxwell Smart would say! A kid from California or the railbirds baiting him to wuff at me had annoyed me greatly a few nights before. Couldn't do much about it on a pool table at the moment, I had a date with me. Never considered it cool to keep a girl sitting on a bar stool watching me gamble for hours. They got bored, I lost girlfriends. Anyway, my hands were tied but I was mortally pissed!
A couple nights later I had emptied my stash in the top of my closet, emptied my checking account, had $3500 in my pocket. That might not buy a top of the line Caddy at the time but it would have bought a nice car. I had five a game planned, a very comfortable seven barrels in my pocket. I would go to a thousand a game but I hoped to win a little at five a game before moving up. Three barrels winner breaks left a little more to the gods of chance than I liked. If I needed to I would start at a thousand though.
The guy wasn't at Greenway and they couldn't find him on the phone. No cells back then so after about thirty minutes or so I gave it up and headed home. Word was out that I was looking for a pretty serious money match and the danger in my usual haunts was of being robbed, and not on a pool table! Next time I went in I was told he had left town. That is the story of how I didn't empty out to Keith McCready all those years ago. Had I caught up with him I would have emptied out every dime.
Hu
A couple nights later I had emptied my stash in the top of my closet, emptied my checking account, had $3500 in my pocket. That might not buy a top of the line Caddy at the time but it would have bought a nice car. I had five a game planned, a very comfortable seven barrels in my pocket. I would go to a thousand a game but I hoped to win a little at five a game before moving up. Three barrels winner breaks left a little more to the gods of chance than I liked. If I needed to I would start at a thousand though.
The guy wasn't at Greenway and they couldn't find him on the phone. No cells back then so after about thirty minutes or so I gave it up and headed home. Word was out that I was looking for a pretty serious money match and the danger in my usual haunts was of being robbed, and not on a pool table! Next time I went in I was told he had left town. That is the story of how I didn't empty out to Keith McCready all those years ago. Had I caught up with him I would have emptied out every dime.
Hu