Text 11362, 64 rader
Skriven 2005-04-11 21:06:40 av Stan Hardegree (1:379/1.2)
Ärende: Pool
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This is a long post about not much, so you can skip it and not miss anything:
.....

When I was 13 years old, I played my first game of pool at the Teen Club at
Fort Lee, VIrginia.  The first time I ever picked up a cue, I won 28 straight
games of eight ball before I sat down.  The game's elegant logic made sense to
me - the angle of reflection equals the angle of incidence, a cue ball struck
below the equator will back up and that stuff.  Over the next few months, I
figure out how to control english, making me a pretty good bank and position
player.  When I sat in church with my parents, I would play imaginary games of
eight ball in my head in instead of listening to the sermon.  I would sneak
into service clubs and play until the manager discovered that a 14-year-old kid
was beating the soldiers - and told me to leave.

Ten years later, I was four- time intramural champ at West Georgia College.  My
last year in college, I played the best tournament pool I have ever played,
beating a black kid named Lonnie Dixon 2-1 on two eight ball runs.  Lonnie also
ran the table, but I won the coin toss, so I broke first in a loser breaks
tournament.  Ah, to be lucky.....

While in the Army the first time, I used nine-ball winnings to buy a 20 oz
Palmer cue, which I use (and pamper) 28 years later.  I love the game so much
that one of my dogs tags listed my religion as Nine Ball.

Today, I am ranked by the APA as a level 7 player, meaning that if I play in
team competition, I cannot be paired with another player at my level.  Level 7
players are the only ones so restricted, meaning that level 6 guys can be
partnered with other level 6 guys.  Two years ago, I beat a touring pro by the
name of Fillipino Slim during an exhibition here.  Slim takes his name from the
fact that he fell in love with Manilla during a tour in the Navy.  Slim called
all seven shots after making a high ball on the break but missed after
snookering himself on the sixth shot.  He didn't shoot again.

These days I play mostly with a fellow named Ed Hurst, a BCA qualified
instructor, and perhaps the best player I have ever known.  Ed owns a table and
we get together a couple of times a week at his house to play, have a couple of
drinks and discuss the English canon (yeah, another pool-playing English
major).  On my best day, I can beat Ed about 50 percent of the time.  Oh HIS
best day, I have no chance.  Once a month, Ed and I travel to Marietta with
another insanely good play named Troy Vaughn to play snooker, a maddeningly
hard game.

Cindy and I have have planned to add a room and buy a table for some time (I
haven't owned my own table since I got married 25 years ago) but have been
waiting for the right time to expand the house.  Last week I got a call from
Brenda McCreary, widow of our late and much lamented city manager (and my good
friend) Steve Russell.  She said, "I have sold my house at Mirror Lake, and if
the owners don't want Steve's pool table, I want you to have it."

Steve and I spent many hours over that beautiful table, playing games of eight
ball, discussing life and, most of all, the beautiful women we married.  Some
of you may remember that Steve visited with us briefly during a Fest several
years ago.  My buddy Steve shot himself almost three years ago now, my one and
only friend in this life to have committed suicide.

The new owners of Brenda's house didn't need the table, which now sits in my
garage, assembled, levelled and ready for play during our next Fest. 
Five-hundred-pound, eight-foot single piece of slate.  Green cloth.  Leather
drop pockets. Heaven.

How about July 16?

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 * Origin: Charles Doll - Rest in Peace (1:379/1.2)