My Muhammad Ali Story

One of the very first books I read on mental toughness was in my mid 20s.  I went to the book store and looked around and found a book called "Dare to Win."  I figured, hey, this could be perfect for me and my pool game!

Little did I know it was really a book about winning at life, not really a book about sports psychology.

But, one of the chapters in the book is all about the power of suggestion and willing things to happen.  It was specifically about writing down who you want to meet, even the most un-reachable type people, like famous or well-known people for example.

Well, the one person I wrote down was Muhammad Ali. 

I liked his perseverance on and off the stage and of all the people, I wanted to meet him so I wrote his name down as the book suggested.

His passing on Saturday leads me to write about him today.  He touched the world with his attitude and confidence and love his impact to history.

So, did I meet him?

Well...

Sort of.

A few years after I wrote this name down, I went to Times Square for New Years Eve in New York City in 2000.  Yes, along with every other idiot packed liked sardines to watch the ball drop in person in the packed streets.  Literally elbow to elbow and hardly any room to move for hours. 

However, at one point we look on the stage which, since we got there early, we were positioned close to.  And low and behold, up walks Muhammad Ali! 

I was shocked!  Sure, I didn't get to meet the man or have a convo with him, but the one person I wrote down was standing almost arms-length from me (well, if I could reach up /on to/ the stage).

I twas so freaking cool, and made the whole trip that much more memorable for me!

May you RIP, Muhammad Ali. 

Interesting Gambling Story from 1961

I wrote a couple of days ago about someone who saw her first pool room at 4 years old, and how enamored she was by the event.

I Google the owner of the pool room, Matranga, to see what I could find about the family, and this little gem popped up:

http://www.cuke.com/dchad/writ/misc/120213-gambling.html

I am going to paste the long story here in case it disappears some day from the URL above, because it's quite a story to read about gambling in 1961:


2-13-12 - Breaking a Fifty Year Old Vow

On the next to last day of my recent stay in Fort Worth, I broke a vow fifty years old, a vow never again to gamble. Since that time five decades ago until the fifth of February this year, I have not wagered any money on a bet, on a flip of a coin, on a card game, on one of many brief stays at Reno, Tahoe, or Las Vegas, not bought a lottery ticket. I can remember one member of the poker game at David Cohen's getting angry at me when I wouldn't join in one night I'd dropped by to say hello. I have never taken advantage of sure thing bets or those I know of that are easy ways to make money because they're counter-intuitive. It's not just because of the vow. I've broken many vows. It's also because I don't have the urge to bet. I don't like competitive games. I don't like to lose but I also don't like that much to win, don't like to get the better of others, would rather not get into that whole thing. But there's also an experience behind the vow that lead me not to gamble since back then, not a penny ever - till Super Bowl Sunday this year.

I made that vow in Henry Matranga's pool hall on a hot day in the summer of 1961. I was sixteen and on the way to my grandmother's house mid afternoon. Since I was going there or by there my mother had given me five dollars to give to her mother - don't remember why - a donation, dues, debt to a yardman. On the way, rather out of the way, I dropped by the pool hall. It was a smoky old place, maybe eight tables all standard, no snooker or billiards, cold drinks and cigarettes available from machines, bad coffee, a couple of pin ball machines, bare walls, hanging florescent lights, a few chairs.

Henry sat on a stool when he wasn't up and around, was bespectacled, looked to be in his seventies, short, welterweight, strict, quiet, but not unfriendly. I remember his son Frank knew my aunt Eleanor in high school, maybe even dated. Henry knew my grandfather to say hello. Maybe that's why he let me and my friends play there even though we were under eighteen. The other customers were always older.

Matranga is an Italian name and there was a small Mafia presence in Fort Worth which at one time I'd heard had earned the nickname Little Chicago - for gambling and prostitution. Even when I was a teenager I'd hear about such things going on in town. The only thing I remember organized crime being involved with in Fort Worth was pinball and vending machines. I didn't understand why. It was hinted that some people in this pool hall were involved with the Mafia. Maybe that was all imagined ambiance but I know I never had to worry about being hassled by toughs there or even near there. I loved going to Henry's to play eight ball, rotation, and smoke.

"One quick game of rotation," I told him. "Just got a dime."

Henry racked the balls himself, quickly and tightly. A man at the next table asked if I wanted to play. I said sure.

"How about eight ball?" he said.

"OK."

Henry heard and re-racked for eight ball.

"Play for a dollar?" the man asked.

I'd seen him play there before. He was a salesman from the neighboring Montgomery Wards headquarters building. He was better than me. I've never been very good at pool.  "Loser pays," I said.

We played a game of eight ball. He won. I reached into my pocket for the dime, handed it to Henry.

"Eight ball's fifteen," he reminded me.

"Oh yeah." I reached in some more. Nothing. "Play you for a nickel," I said to the man who'd just beat me and handed Henry the five dollar bill. He gave me $4.95 in change.

It was very important that I give this five dollar bill to my grandmother. I had to win this game. My mother would not approve of me giving Granny four ones and ninety-five cents in change. Granny wouldn't like it either. This guy wasn't that much better than me. I'd almost won the game before. I lost that next game badly though. I gave Henry another fifteen cents.

I calculated. "Play you for a quarter," I said. Loser pays was understood. Needed that fiver back.
He won again. Darn. Gave Henry another fifteen cents. That left me with $4.65 and a 30 cent debt. "Play you for 65," I said. He nodded.

I almost won that game. "That's ninety-five," he said. "Wanna quit?"

"No."

Gave Henry another fifteen cents. Counted my change while he racked. Darn. If I don't get that five back Mother will kill me I thought. Granny will scold but mother might get irrational, out of hand. She's really very nice but, little things like this sometimes can ignite her (back then). Hmm. Got $4.50 and so that's 50 plus 95 equals 145. "Play you for a dollar forty-five."

He laughed. "OK."

I choked bad on that game. Was ahead and missed a super easy shot. My hand was shaking. "That's two hundred and forty pennies my friend," said the salesman. He was enjoying it. Gave Henry another fifteen cents. I had $4.35 left and owed $2.40. Sixty-five and 240 is... is 305. "How about three bucks and a nickel?" We were on.

"Rotation?" I said. Maybe another game would change my luck. Henry looked up. The salesman nodded.

He broke. He'd broken every game except the first. Winner breaks. I was sweating. I still had enough to pay up if I lost this game, But then I'd have to face the consequences at Granny's and then at home. Sounds like no big deal now. But remember inflation. According to the Inflation Calculator on DollarTimes.com, five dollars in 1961 was worth $36.77 in 2011. So it's like you gave your kid or friend or whatever forty bucks to pay a debt and they gambled it away en route. Add that to the uh... importance of attending to details and the value placed on property and money in my family, and that sweat on my brow is more understandable. Don't get me wrong. My mother was generous and not a penny pincher. She just wasn't cool with wanton waste and household misdemeanors.
Only the fifteen ball remained. I had a shot. Missed. He missed. I had a better shot. Missed. He had a difficult shot. Banked it in.

Moment of decision.

"I gotta get back to work," he said as I gave Henry a dime. The salesman was waiting for his money.

"Three o five," I said.

"No," he said. "Three o five plus the 240 from before." That's five and... forty-five."

Uh oh. Forgot to add that. I counted my change. Owed $5.45. Only had a quarter and the four bills. No. Damnit. No. Let's see. Wow. No. I don't have it. What to do. Mind blank then spinning, grasping at mental straws. Pretend I think it's in the car then come back in and apologize and bring it to him tomorrow. Embarrassing. He'll be okay. Dread to do that. And then there's still no five dollar bill for Granny. I paused looking down. Looking for excuses to bring instead of the five dollar bill, finding none.

"One more game."

"OK. One more. Then I really gotta go."

"Rotation?"

"Rack 'em Henry," he said.

Henry was already taking the balls from the wall  and placing them in the triangular rack.

"Play you for six twenty."

"Six twenty," he laughed and nodded. "You've sure got some system."

Henry looked at me and shook his head a little. I think he knew what was up.

These old tables of course weren't the type that swallow balls. In eight ball we'd leave the balls in the leather netted pockets, moving one to another pocket if it got too full. With rotation we'd line them up on the wall on narrow shelves scooped to match the form of the balls so they wouldn't roll off. His balls were on the top shelf and mine on the next. Henry had  been looking at these rows of balls for decades and could tell you the sum of your row in a glance. Naturally in rotation the player whose balls add up to the highest number wins.

I was not doing well in this game. The salesman had a bunch of balls on his shelf  I hardly had any. There were five balls left on the table, mostly the highest number balls. I was getting numb all over with fear. Fear of two women in my family and now fear of the salesman and Henry too. He didn't like any funny business in his establishment. If I lost this I'd be over eleven dollars short. A lot of money back then.

I was wishing I could walk back in the room and redo this whole scenario. If I'd just played rotation instead of eight ball the first game, I could have paid with my dime and driven off care free but no, now I'm anything but care free. I'm the polar opposite of care free. More like polar bear opposite, polar bears that can rip your face off and suck the marrow out of your bones.

"Your shot," the salesman reminded me looking at his watch.

I looked at the table. Henry walked by and looked at the balls in the rack. "Which are you?" he asked.
"I'm the lower shelf," I said.

He looked at the table. "You've got to sink every ball on the table to win," he said and walked off.
I looked at the five balls on the table. I was stuck on a cliff and they were the rocks below. I heard the winds of panic rustling. I felt the like crying, like collapsing. But I didn't. I gathered myself. I pulled in all my forces. I spoke directly then to the highest on high mind of mind, and I prayed sincerely.
When most people think of prayer, I gather they think it's something you do to some other being somewhere that has power, usually a supreme being that has all the power and one asks that supreme being for whatever one wants. Please let me live, I don't want to die, for instance. I had a comparable feeling, but I wasn't raised on that type of prayer. I was raised on prayer being rooted in one's oneness with absolute perfect mind that was the one core truth of life, life beyond the material universe. So I didn't say, please god, let me win. I just directed a most sincere request as high, as deep, as subtle, as intimate as I could, and said silently in my mind, "If I sink all five of these balls, I will never gamble again."

Without pausing to reflect on the significance of the moment, I rubbed the green chalk cube on the round leather cue tip,  put my left hand on the white chalk cone and shook off the excess, placed that hand on the table with the business tip of the cue stick slid through the ring created by index finger and thumb resting on middle finger splayed out with the other two, sighted the ball with the lowest number, and pulled back my right hand which gripped the butt of the cue. All the fear and trembling dropped away. Just about everything dropped away except for my ability to stand, hold the pool cue and shoot.

This recent Super Bowl Sunday a few friends came over to mother's house in Fort Worth. Carl brought fajitas he'd made at home. Warren brought a salad and chips. Jackie brought a raw vegetable assortment with dip. John showed up - I told him not to bring anything. Jerry dropped by. Mother sat with us. We talked. Warren was in the kitchen getting the salad tossed and tortilla chips with cheese heated. Carl got out a piece of paper and drew horizontal and vertical lines. It was a Super Bowl pool. Each square represented a meeting place of two different scores. Each square cost a dime. There were lots of empty squares. To heck with it. I didn't want to be a Super Bowl pool pooper. I went to my room and got eight dimes, threw them in the hat and marked eight squares with DC. I lost it all.
It's been a good vow. I'm still thankful for it.

First Encounter With a Pool Room

I was on a shuttle bus hitching a free ride between Bally's and The Rio for the BCAPL National Championships tourney back in July (2015).

It was a little wait and there was a lot of people needing that free ride as well between the strip and The Rio.

Got to talking to a couple who saw my pool case and we swapped where we were from, and yes they were heading to watch friends play in matches at the Rio.

When I told them I was from Fort Worth, the females' face all of a sudden lit up with excitement!  She was all smiles and excited to share this story with me:

She went to her first pool room as a child in Fort Worth at a pool room in Montgomery Plaza.  This is what it looked like back then:

 It has since been converted into a lot of restaurants, condos, and shops (that I happen to visit often):

As she told the story, I envisioned the grey Montgomery Wards building I had seen closing down 15 years ago (if you are old enough to remember those stores). 

She said the pool room was near the Montgomery Wards and it was owed by a local mafia-type family, the Matranga Family.

But it was the way she described her "encounter" with the pool room that made me appreciate the affect it had on her.

She was only 4 years old, and this over over 60 years ago she said.

She visited the pool room at such a young age, that her Dad had to lift her above the railing to see the tables, and when he did that....

"all I saw was felt.  And it was amazing!"

She paused and you could see her remembering the moment in her eyes:

"There was no music.  No food.  It was very, very quiet.  They had seven tables.  It was so beautiful, all that felt.  And it was very serious, like church."

"And I've been hooked on the game ever since by what I saw that magical day,"  she shared.

How cool is that first encounter with a pool room she had at such a young age?!

Billiard Shirts and Gambling

Back in the mid 90s, I had gone through my closet one day and all the old t-shirts I didn't want anymore, I was going to donate to the Salvation Army.

Before I did that, though, I thought that my one of my good friends' son may want all the pool shirts I had.

You know, the ones from pool rooms, or pool tournaments, or big events (like BCAPL in Vegas).

I asked her, "Do you think John would want these shirts?"

She laughed so hard I could barely understand her.

"No, Melinda, are you serious?" still laughing.

"Uh, yea, he wouldn't want them?  We are the same size."

"No, Melinda.  He can't walk into a pool room with a billiard shirt on if he's trying to get a pool game."

"Oh, okay," I replied, not REALLY understanding what she meant completely.

He was a hustler.  He traveled all around.  If we was to walk in a pool room, trying to act like he doesn't play pool but has a POOL shirt on, well, that obviously gives it away.

I didn't realize what I was truly asking til many years later, and how important it was to really seem like you aren't a pool player.

I remember once he even dyed his hair blond to seem like he was a surfer or in the sun a lot or something.... just so he wouldn't seem like a pool player.

I'm Still a Tennis Amateur

I'm playing in the Scotch Doubles tourney of the BCAPL Texas State 9-Ball Championships this week here in Temple, Texas.

I am playing with a league-mate, Marty Jones.  He was always at the top of the league but this year he sits in the #1 spot for the first time (and there are close to 200 people in this league).  I played him in a little 8-ball tourney a while back and came to appreciate his game even more.  So I asked him if he would like to play with me and he said, yes.

Since I am in a rut, it made for an interesting day yesterday, tho!

It reminded me of a tennis game I played once against a friend of mine when I was in my late 20s.

She had played tennis in high school, I had not.  But we wanted some exercise so we decided tennis was the way to go and it would be fun too.

Since I hadn't ever really played tennis, but it looked simply enough to bat the ball over the short fence (net), I was all for it.

I would just hit the ball over the net.  I had no accuracy, no control, and my only goal was to get it over the net.

What did this mean?

It turns out my girlfriend got a lot more exercise in than I did!

I meant that she was running back and forth the whole time!

She was busting ass trying to hit my wild balls....while she was aiming the ball right towards me the whole time.  I recall kinda just standing there, easily hitting the ball over the net.  I hardly had to move around or run.  But her!  She was running left and right and back again and up and down and left and right trying to retrieve my balls!

We never played again, lol, but that one time.

This is how I felt yesterday in my scotch doubles matches.  My partner was getting me perfect shape; leaving me easy shots.  I was struggling and would therefore leave him really rough and tough shots a lot.  Long shots, long cuts, tough shots that required a very steady stroke, etc.  He made 99% of them tho!  But it was just like that tennis game I played 15 years ago - he was making all the tough shots and I had all the easy shots!

I noticed this about half way through the day, especially when I started to get tired and he was making all these fantastic tough shots.  I even said something to him about it and he jokingly replied he could leave me the tough ones and he could start shooting easy ones, lol.

Thank goodness he played well, while I played "decent," because we won the hotseat last night!

Finals are not scheduled because of the other events but we have to be doubles dipped and we WILL make it tough for that to happen!

Pool is Family

One of my fellow pool playing friends had a great experience at APA Nationals this month.  He wrote a kind of thank you post on FB and I wanted to share it because it touches upon how pool really is a family, and goes beyond just playing the game we love.


From Larry Nicholson:

"About a year ago, Curtis Cardwell asked me to join his Masters team. What would come from the decision to join is unbelievable - "The Story".

Each pool player starts the journey, one day, picking up a cue with timidness and looking at the table & balls with fear.  Perhaps they start at their house or on a random night out with a couple friends.

Unbeknownst to us, this is the start of an amazing journey.

At first, it's just "fun." One day out of the blue, someone invites us to play "league."  Maybe with a little reluctance, because we first think 'we aren't good enough', we are convinced to try it.

Over time, we get better at the game, and get to compete.  Then the world comes to an end - Playoffs, Tri-cups, and Cities. OMG, the nerves prohibit your legs from standing still, and everyone's watching, and "I want to go to Vegas."

Most of us can relate to this so far, and some can already express the sense of accomplishment getting to Vegas. Ahhhhh, the "Destiny" is complete, or is it?

This year, was an eye-opener, even for me.  Only with the intent on shedding some color to the testament, I've been to Vegas 6 times for APA and well over a dozen times with other organizations.

This year was very special to me personally, and an experience I'll never forget. Sure, the team performed well by finishing 5th, but that had nothing to do with it.  Our matches were played in front of tremendous supporters from all over, not only Texas, but California, Florida, and I'm sure other places as well.   Matches weren't just played against other opponents, but were played against friends and the camaraderie & sportsmanship was exemplary.

Still, though, there's more.

Outside of the event, the vision of what it is all about came to light.  People, friends and strangers coming together and forming memories and bonds that will last a lifetime IS what it is all about.

Some got to Vegas, but didn't get to play.  Another person (non pool player) was left in Vegas all alone.   The players stepped up to replace sorrow with joy, solitude with company, and made sacrifices for the sake of others.

My friends, this is what the game we enjoy is all about, and what the APA provides a portal to do.

The opportunities for friendships, relationships, and in some cases, be heroes to others surround us. It is a fact that in our world of pool -- We are a Family!"

-Larry

One of the League Operators (Les Moore) replied:

Very well stated and proud to say, you are one of the family and very proud of the way Quad 7's played in Vegas and especially the great display of sportsmanship throughout the experience.

Another friend added:

"Larry those words you wrote down, the story you told was the best I have read in very long time. You have taken something that some take for granted and reminded us what "this" is all about. And you let everyone become part of the experience. Thank You."

Shark Infested Waters

The other night, my boyfriend (Brian) was gambling in a match.  He has played his opponent many times, so we felt comfortable with the "atmosphere."

One of the railbirds (JB) wanted to side bet, which was unusual for this guy because he never has money to bet.  But, Brian of course said yes because he wants the action. So, he's playing $50 sets, and betting $50 on the side with JB.

We lose the first set, and we play again (btw, even though Brian is the one playing and doing all the work, lol, we are both in on the bet, so I am going to use the word "we" lol.)

We win the next set, so we are even, so of course they play again.

At this point, Brian asks his opponent if he wants to raise the bet and he is told no.  So, $50 sets again it is.

JB runs up to Brian and asks him if he wants to bet $100 on the side (instead of $50).  Brian responds defiantly, "yes." 

We lose that set and so we are down $50 on the set and $100 on the side.

Flip it.

We play another set. 

Brian asks his opponent again to raise the bet and again his opponent says no.  We are both surprised, as he normally bets more than $50.  With my boyfriend acting perturbed, his opponent finally admits, "I'm being backed by JB."

What??  JB never has money!

So, Brian goes over to JB and asks if they can bet $100 on the set "and stop being a nit" (or something like that).  JB says no and Brian gets perturbed again.

They are about to flip for the next set and JB comes rushing up to to Brian and finally says, "Okay, we will bet $100 in the middle and $100 on the side."

Sheesh.  Finally.

So, if we lose this set, we owe $350 total - $150 to the opponent and $200 for the side bets. If we win this set, we earn $50.

After we find out JB is backing Brian's opponent, JB is cheering and more verbal all of a sudden.  He's also talking to me; which I really don't like when Brian is playing.

I finally get our things and move to the OTHER end of the table - way away from JB. Away from all the verbalness that is distracting us.  

Brian tells me, "Thank you" and immediately we both feel more comfortable being away from the "collusion."

Brian and I are now able to sit more comfy next to each other and also not hear JB being the cheerleader.

Now, being a cheerleader is fine, esp from the backer, but it was annoying and I'll be honest, I could tell it was downright sharking.

That's what JB does.

Does it well, I'm afraid.

As a matter of fact, JB barked at me across the table as Brian is shooting, "want to play some one pocket?"

Really, Dude?  "I've told you 100 million times /slight exaggeration/ that I like to watch my man when he plays."  Deliberately saying the word "man" to his stupid question.

Brian was down 4-2 in the race to 5 but all of a sudden got on fire and they went hill-hill.  Then they played "win by 2" and Brian won the next two games with confidence and good play to win that set at 3:30 in the morning.

We win the $50 (pretty crucial to win that $50 instead of being down $350 total, lol).  And they flip again.

They play one more set for $50, and JB now doesn't want to side bet anymore all of a sudden! 

Brian loses but we are now completely even and so we decide to quit since it's 4:30am.

I am tired of dealing with JBs' antics.  I didn't go into all the details so I know it doesn't make sense why I got so annoyed with JB this night, but suffice it to say I just don't want anything to do with him anymore.  Brian and I just want to play pool.  No mind games, no sharking.... just pool.

I know that's tough to ask for in gambling, but JB makes it very difficult to just play pool. 

Biggest Score I Witnessed

Every one has their story of the BIGGEST money match they have witnessed. Well, that means I have one, too!

Back in the mid 90s, I traveled with my boyfriend as he traipsed across the country playing in tournaments or getting into action. I had been to New York City to see the big Straight Pool event, a Camel Pro event at Magoo's in Tulsa (yeah, I'm showing my age, lol), and Olathe, Kansas (hotspot for pool), and a few other pro events back then.

At one point, he and I went to the little city of Baton Rouge in Louisiana.

"Lambert’s" was the GO TO pool hall for high stakes action in the South.  Mr. Lambert had money, and his friend and partner "Flyboy" was a very good one pocket player who played for a lot of money.  Therefore, players from all over the country came to see if they could win big cash off the pair. 

BTW, "Lamberts" had the best ham steak special in the world!

I happened to be there the weekend in the mid to late 90s when James Walden beat Flyboy out of $150,000.

No.  That's not a typo.

When James sealed the deal it was 5am or so in the morning (after several days of playing 12 hours on/12 hours off), there was hardly anyone else in the pool room at the time.  Even my b/f was back in the hotel room sleeping.

James Walden banked the last ball on the last game of their head-set one pocket match and I was one of the few who saw the final shot. 

To this day, it's very surreal that I witnessed that.

I will never forget James' backer walking towards the pool table that early morning, slowly clapping his hands with long pauses between the claps, in sheer pleasure and delight about the big win.

Lampert retrieved a medium-sized black bag from the safe in the back, and handed it to the backer from California. 

I didn't see Flyboy in action for the rest of the trip, but I DID see a very drunk James Walden and his girlfriend Toni who celebrated the next night.

I don't blame them!

Count Your Balls

Yes, I said "count your balls."  No, no relation to count your blessings, lol.

I witnessed something over 20 years ago that has stuck with me.  It's one of those very impressionable moments in your pool journey.  Something that when you see it, you are so shocked, you never forget it.  And, it affects you the rest of your pool playing career.

I was watching a two day tournament at Galaxy Billiards in San Antonio, TX  and it was a very big tourney.  On the final day, one of the first round matches pitted an up-and-coming young player against a calm, experienced, older, local player.

The youngster was gaining ground in the match and was very hyper as he could see he was on the verge of winning against this formidable, better player.

The more mature player broke, and then returned to his chair to grab his playing cue.  As he turned back around to walk towards the table, he noticed the younger player had bounced from his chair and was now standing at the table, looking over the layout.  The older player stayed near his chair, and stood back and watched.  Then the younger player got down and shot his first shot on the 1 ball and made it.

The older player then walks up and tells him, "you fouled".

Turns out the younger player *thought* his opponent didn't make a ball.  Turns, out, instead, the guy DID make a ball on the break.  So, the older player took ball in hand and ran out the match for the win.

I will forever be disturbed by what I saw. 

Why? 

Because what I saw was the mature player (only in age, not ethics), deliberately did NOT tell his opponent he had made a ball on the break.  He stood there and LET his opponent shoot.  He LET his opponent deliberately foul.  He never stopped him to say, "wait!  I made a ball."  Like normal players would have done graciously. 

This intentional move has haunted me for all these years.  While I don't think anyone would ever do this to me, I still to this day will MAKE SURE my opponent did not make a ball before I shoot after someone elses breaks. 

If I happen to not see a ball go into a pocket or happen to not hear balls fall, I will always count the number of balls on a table.  I do this for both 9 ball and 8 ball.

Believe me when I say I'm still mortified by this "tactic" the guy pulled.  I don't even know what to call what he did.  But, it was unethical and intentional and I will never forget it.

And after that happened, I lost all respect for him.  CHEATER!

TaxiCab Confessions

One more Vegas story.

Back in 1998-2000 (yes, THAT long ago), I was living in Florida and had left all my Texas friends.  :(  I loved being ten minutes from the beautiful Atlantic Coast, tho.  :)  I lived in Florida for 1 1/2 years for my job, before another promotion moved me back in Texas in 2000.

In 1999, I traveled to the BCAPL Nationals, as I had been my routine for the previous 5 years.  I was very excited to see all of my friends from Texas (and around the U.S.) during that tourney.

As I came down the escalator at the Las Vegas airport for baggage claim carousel number 5, excited about being in my favorite city, I was shocked to see one of my Texas girlfriends standing at the bottom of the escalator to surprise me!  She had taken a cab from the hotel to surprise me and meet me AT the airport!

It was SO very very awesome of her.  :)

We get my bags, stand in the LONG taxi cab line.  It takes over 15 minutes to get through the long line, but it's okay because we get to chat and catch up.  :)  Then finally, it's our turn at the front of the line.

We get into the cab and all of a sudden the taxi cab driver says, "How was your trip from Florida?"

WTH?

I look up and I'm like, how did he know that?

Then my girlfriend starts busting out laughing in disbelief!

This was the SAME taxi cab driver that had dropped her off an hour a go!  She told him on the way to the airport she was surprising a friend who was flying in from Florida, and then we get the SAME guy!

It was AMAZING of all the cabs in the cab-infested city of Las Vegas that we would get the same driver an hour apart!  What are the odds??

Seriously, think about this for a minute:

They guy picks up my friend at The Riviera, drives her to the airport, drops her off.  He then drives to the taxi waiting area, so he can be in line to pick up a a fair FROM the airport.  He waits in the long line (probably over 40 cabs in front of him), finally gets to the taxicab line stand, and of all the people in the line (there were about 60 in front of us), we are paired with the SAME guy who dropped her off about an hour ago!

Amazing!

A/C Broke in Vegas

Since Vegas is right around the corner, thought I'd share a Vegas story.

Two years ago in Vegas for the BCAPL Nationals, I am mostly there to have fun and relax; no expectations for the tourney-side of things. 

One early afternoon after the singles event, I decide to eat at the Riviera Cafe (Kady's) with a friend of mine.  While many people complain about Kady's, I am a creature of habit and order the same thing all the time b/c I really do like a few things on their menu.

On the way to the cafe, I walk by the edge of the casino and I happen to run into a friend who is extremely drunk (the sun is out and it's the middle of the day!), but he has been up all night playing poker, drinking, playing black jack, and he has yet to go to bed for some reason.

I say my hellos and nice greeting to him, while he is is the typical drunk person who doesn't recognize distance in his sober state so he stands to close to me and talks right at my face, as I try to step back from his alcohol breathe.

I get to the cafe and order my food with my friend and then my Mom calls me.

"What do you mean the A/C guys haven't shown up yet?  They were suppose to be there already!"

I immediately get upset, as my Mom has advanced emphysema and she needs the air very cold so she can breathe well (warm/hot air makes breathing difficult).  Further, when the A/C goes out (this wasn't the first time), she has to sleep in the living room on the coach because it's the coolest place in the house.  This also isn't good for her lungs because she has to sleep laying up and cannot lay flat.  Because I am in Nevada and she is in Texas helpless (and I'm her rescuer), I am extremely upset right now.

As I'm talking to her, the drunk guys come to our table and sits down for some reason.

I keep talking, "What did they say? "Did you tell them the A/C is froze?"

And then I get distracted from the drunk guy.  He asks me, "What is wrong with your A/C?" Seriously, dude?  You are trying to talk to me when I'm on the phone with my Mom about something almost life crisis?

I raise my forefinger perpendicular to my mouth for the universal symbol of "shhhh." 

I continue, "Mom, calm down.  I will call them back and be the lioness and explain how important the A/C needs to be fixed and ask them why they hadn't show up yet as promised."

Again the drunk guy tries to talk to me. OMG! 

I'm too upset to rationalize any leadership skills at the moment b/c my Mom is suffering, I feel helpless so far away, and this drunk dude is seriously annoying me at the wrong time.

I snap at him, "Dude, I'm on the phone right now!"  As he looks back at me, well.... drunk. 

I finish the call with my Mom, and I immediately I look through my phone for the number to the stupid A/C company.

The drunk guy starts to talk again, as I'm trying to find the # quickly to save my Mom.

He says slurring, "Um, I own an A/C company."

"Uh, what?"

"Yea, and I know companies in your area to help you out.  Sounds like you're getting the run around," he says.

Omg, seriously?  I was bitching out a potential helper!  Eeeek

A couple of hours go by and sure enough he sends me a contact #.  Long story short, the new company that he recommended come over that day, finds the leak right away (that the other company could not find FOUR times in the past year), and the cost was $300 less than all other estimates I had had before.

Dang drunk A/C guy to the rescue!  :)  He turned out to be my Mom and I's little angel in disguise!

.................

Speaking of drunk guys reminds me of this funny video!

Scotch Doubles Fiasco

Last Saturday my boyfriend and I played in another scotch doubles tourney.

It was a nightmare!

We lost our first match 0-3.  Ouch.  Each of us made a few mistakes and so we ended up losing.  Our opponents played good against us, but I wish they weren't so talkative while we were at the table, but that's they way pool is sometimes.  I firmly believe if we would have won the first game, the outcome would have been different and we would have won the match.

We then "come with it" and win the next two matches decisively. Yay, go team!

But then it happened.  Eeeek.  We started to argue in our 4th match.

We were both super tired and hadn't had enough sleep the night before (our own fault for playing poker til the wee hours of the morning), but we still should not be arguing.

I don't think my friends had ever seen my boyfriend and I argue before, so to watch us mince words in the middle of a match was prolly weird for them.

Basically, I wasn't thinking right.  I went for a few tough shots instead of playing safe, and that frustrated him.  When it first happened a couple of times, I really hadn't see the safeties. 

He was frustrated with me because he knows I know the game, and he knows I know I'm suppose to play safe at certain times.  However, the first couple of times he mentioned "Why didn't you play safe?" the safes hadn't even crossed my mind.  That's how I know I wasn't thinking clear.  I'll blame it on the lack of sleep, because I'm not sure what else it could have been.

The next big turn at the table in our final match, I see a safe, but then a bank, too.  I go for the bank because I think I can make it.  As I get down on the shot, I see him cover his eyes in my peripheral vision and I know he's disappointed that I've made the wrong decision, but I go for it anyway.

When I walk back to our chairs after the missed bank, he doesn't even talk to me, which (of course) upsets me.  I need encouragement, but I'm not getting it, because he thinks I'm choosing the wrong shots and therefore he's frustrated with me.

He asked me, "why didn't you play safe?"

"I dunno," I reply agitated (nothing like being told you are wrong). "It crossed my mind, but I went for the bank."

We start to have words and argue. 

And I try desperately to explain to him that I can't think straight if he gets on to me.

But he is focused on one thing:  He pleads with me, "Just go with your first instinct.  That's all I'm asking. "

"But, but..."

"No buts," he interrupts, "Just go with your first instinct.  Okay?"

We are both being stubborn and both frustrated.  He's upset with me, and I'm upset he's upset with me (lol).  And everyone can see this exchange.  Even if you can't hear us, you can tell from our body language we are arguing.

During the next game I try to reverse my anger and say "nice shot" to him a lot so he knows I've moved on from the arguments.

Then it happens.  I have to play safe.  Ugh.  I have only two balls left on the table to try and hide the cueball.  I feel pretty good about my decision, but I dog the safe and get mad at myself.

"It's okay, " He tells me as I walk back to our chairs.  I snap back embarrassed and ticked off, "I finally play safe and then I dog it!"

He tells me again it's alright, but then........he starts to explain to me what I should have shot instead.  I'm so agitated, tho, I tell him firmly, "I don't want to hear it right now in the middle of the match."

"Fine then!" He snaps.

We sit for a few minutes in silence and we both calm down.  He then hugs me and says, "Let's stop arguing, we don't do well when we argue."

"Okay," I reply, as I melt a little.

He finally can't keep it to himself anymore.  And he again tries to explain which ball I should have played safe on.  I just sit there, listening.  I finally mumble something.

"What?"  He asks me.

"I want to say something but you're gonna get mad," I explain as I look down at the floor.

"Just say it," he pleads with me, suggesting he wont get upset.

"Well...."

He tries to get it out of me, "What?"

I finally say, "Well, my first instinct was to do it the way you are explaining."

"WHAT?  OMG Are you serious?  You b1tch!"  He starts laughing and I start laughing.

"Omg, really?"  He asks again while he's cracking up!

"Yes," I say laughing, "I really thought about hitting the 5ball first, but instead I tried to hide behind the 3ball."

We are both laughing so hard we are in tears!  It was absolutely hysterical!  He couldn't believe it!

As this was going on, the other team made a GREAT out to defeat us 1-3.

We were defending champs of this tourney.  And, we haven't placed less than 3rd in ANY scotch event we have played in, so to get 7th SUCKS.  lol.  No money, either.  :(

The other time we got 3rd the same sort of tension was there.  All the other times we just played great.

But, it was so wild to go from such strong negative emotions to such great, positive emotions in such a short time frame.  It was awesome really!

Different Approaches to Teaching a Child Pool

Back in late January, my boyfriend and I went to practice some one pocket on one of the beautiful nine foot tables at Rusty's Billiards in Fort Worth.  It was about 4pm on a Saturday afternoon and hardly anyone was in the place.  It was a great day outside and I'm sure many others were taking advantage of that, while we worked on our one pocket skills.

Then an older gentlemen and (I'm guessing) his grandson come in and get a nearby table, about 4 tables down.  Each had their own cue, three generations apart playing pool - I thought it was very cool.

Then I hear a loud voice, "If you are going to act like that, then we can just leave."  I turn around and the young bog (about ten) has his arms crossed as he sits on the chair with a scowl on his forehead, on the verge of tears. 

"But I want to play," the boy retorts loudly.

"Well, get up here and listen to me then."

The boy hesitantly gets up and then tries to hold the heavy cue awkwardly while Grandpa tells him what he should do, what he shouldn't do, in a very -un-child-like-way-to-talk-to-a-child.  I felt so bad for the kid.  He kept getting scolded for trying to play pool.  It was all very unfortunate.

The kid was SO happy when he first walked in, ready to hit some balls, just have fun trying to make contact.  Instead, he gets ridiculed and scolded for not holding the cue right or not making a ball in the pocket because the cueball took off funny.

He's a child!  Ever heard of "handle with kid gloves," Mister Grandpa? 

My b/f would look at me a lot while Grandpa got onto the boy and he could not believe what was happening either.  He would ask me, "Did you hear that?" 

"Yea," I'd reply disturbed.

Then another older gentleman came in and he put his cue together and started to spar with Grandpa while the boy watched them (bored).

The care taker in me wanted to go get him and bring him to our table so I could just let him hit balls.  I would show him how to shoot and hold a cue by ONLY suggesting to the boy, "look how my b/f is standing and holding his cue.  Try to imitate him if you can."  I would encourage his shots and tell him how great he was doing, even if he wasn't.

But, I didn't have the opportunity to ask him to come over because we had to leave.  :(

Two weeks later, I'm watching my boyfriend gamble a couple of sets in the wee hours of the morning at the sister pool room, Rusty's Billiards in Arlington, Texas.

After the first set, a friend comes in and has a young girl with him.  After a while of listening to them two tables over, it was obvious it was his daughter.  She could be either 14 or 20 (you know how it's tough to tell nowadays, lol).

He would shoot normal 9ball shots, but she was allowed to get cue-ball-in-hand after she missed.  I overheard him say time and time again. "It's okay.  Shoot it again."

Or, "You're doing great."

Or, "Good shot." 

"Good try."

"Nice one."

After about an hour or more, I finally couldn't stand it anymore.  I went over and expressed how much I appreciated the support he showed her.  I tried to convey the story of Grandpa and the little boy, and expressed to her that I hope she appreciated how encouraging her Dad was to her.  I also told him how impressed I was that he was was so supportive.

They both thanked me and genuinely seemed to be grateful I came over.

I had to, I was impressed!

Don't Judge

One of my friends was playing in a tournament this past weekend and in this particular match, she was playing a girl I will call "Classy."

And after my friend lost that tough match to Classy, someone comes up to her and says "You don't like your opponent, do you?"

It through my friend for a loop.

"What? What do you mean?"

They went on to say they could tell she didn't like Classy but they understood though, because Classy was "Snooty" anyway.

"What??", again was her astonished reply.

This person was telling my friend that Classy always walks around the table like she's better than everyone else and hardly talks to anyone in the pool room.

My friend immediately defended Classy.

"We are friends and she is super, super nice.  You should get to know her."  Then went on to explain she simply played bad, and she was upset at herself, not that she didn't like Classy.

When my friend told me about this exchange, I got upset.

I said, "How can they put you in such a bad spot?  Further, why say something so rude about someone they (obviously) don't know?!"

I told my friend I was so glad she defended our friend, Classy, and also reminded her that Classy was shy and that's why she comes across as "Snooty" to some people.  When I was in my 20s, I was very shy and people thought I was bitch, when in reality, I just wasn't social or talkative.  So I understand completely what Classy has to deal with.

While I didn't like what they said about Classy, I also VERY MUCH did not like the position my friend was put in by having to defend her.

I really don't think people realize that when they badmouth someone, or offer their two cents, what it does to the person they are speaking to.  It puts them in an uncomfortable position, which is really unfair to the person on the receiving end of the "opinions."

However, at the same time, I am GLAD they said something because my friend was able to share that indeed this "snooty girl" is one of THE nicest girls in pool and one of the dearest friends anyone could be lucky enough to have in their life.

Don't judge, people.  It looks really bad on you.

In or Out?

Last night I went to league with my boyfriend so I could get out of the house.  Due to my Mom's passing, I don't like to be alone there, so I tagged along and was the Official Score Keeper for the night.

We went to a shady side of town, to a pool room I had never been to before.  It was really a very small bar with four coin tables.  It had a dozen regulars there and the two pool teams, and not much room for anything else.  When we pulled up, it was kinda in a strip mall, but I didn't see any other stores or businesses and some diesel trucks were using the parking for overnight stays.

I admit it was a scary atmosphere in and out of the bar.  I am sure everyone is always very nice but being a white female with blond hair, I do stand out in my slacks and blouse, lol.

Right before the first game, it dawned on me that my cue was in the car.

Yikes!

I asked my boyfriend, and his teammate overheard my question, "I left my cue in the car.  Should I go get it and bring it in so it doesn't get stolen?"

The both look at each other and laughed as they look around and said almost in unison, "heck, we could get robbed in here!"

LMAO!

Change Please?

At the beginning of one of my recent straight pool matches, I needed change for a $20 so I could tip the waitress a dollar for my free water and also have a five dollar bill for my league dues. The new waitress pleasantly obliged.

I would find out later from one of the regular waitresses that my waitress thinks I'm mad at her.

What? Why?

OMG. Really?

I barely spoke to her and didn't order anything but a water so far. Yea, and I'm losing my straight pool match badly, but I didn't take it out on her. I didn't SPEAK to her.

Wow.

Later on that night after dinner and a few drinks (yes, I was very pleasant to her), I gave my waitress a hundred dollar bill to pay my nights' tab. (Can you tell I just came from a casino over the weekend - I had no small bills!)

I didn't know what my total was, as I gave her the hundred before I saw my tab and simply told her "Can I pay my tab please?" She comes back over and lays down "the change" and says "Thanks, Melinda, hope your night gets better."

I sit there a few minutes jabbering with a couple of friends and decide to count my change. And the amount of money sitting in front of me is $100. Yep, change for $100. Four 20s, a 10, a 5 and five 1s.

What?

I call the new waitress over, "um, I wanted to pay my bill with the hundred."

"You did," she replies back to me.

"But I have $100 in change here. "

She stands there, just looking at me.

So I count the money out for her so it makes more sense, "20, 40, 60, 80, 90, 95, 96, 97..."

"Oh, ok, I'm sorry! I'll be right back."

Of course my friends are watching this show down.

She comes back and tells me my bill was $41. So she puts my change down on the table and I pick it up to count it.

And now I'm $5 short. I'm confusing myself. Let's see, 100-41 is ? Yep, I only have $54 in front of me.

I call her back over, "Um, you still owe me $5."

You aren't going to beleive this, but I have to count the money again in front of her to prove I'm now $5 short, when I just helped her by not just taking the $100 "change."

She gives me the $5 and apologies yet again and adds, "this is my first mistake, I am so sorry."

Huh? Really?

I'm thinking to myself, "damn, you're a lucky woman then." Even tho it's obvious she made a few mistakes this night just with my change.

One of the guys sitting at my table tells me, "she's fortunate you are honest or that you didn't just put the "change" in your purse or else she'd be out $41."

I suppose so.

I'm picking on this new waitress with this blog and I'm sure she will be great in the long run but don't be nervous around me. I'm a good patron. We'll figure this out together.

Bantering at League

I went to a league match on Monday night to watch my b/f play in his new league.  I know most of the guys on his team, but one guy I just recently met (Big Billy) and two more I hadn't hung out with before.  Turns out they are a pretty lively group of guys.  So, even though I was kinda a newbie, they made me feel right at home by joking with me and being funny. 

Two of the five teammates are super quiet and the other three (including my b/f) are really funny.  I noticed right away they bantered with each other and they would playfully make fun of each other.  We laughed a lot!

I helped them out by taking score and sat there with a few beers and laughed for a couple of hours along side them.

At one point, the other team subbed a guy in, named Luiz.  He lived life to the fullest, smiling a lot, high-fiving and yelling out after great shots for not just his own teammates but his opponents, as well.  He made quite an impression on all of us.

Our team was winning 9-0 (it's a real strong team) and my b/f had to play Luiz.  Btw, Luiz has only one arm.  He also didn't have his own cue and used a house cue.

As my b/f is running out, one of the balls skids on him and Luiz gets to the table with a tough 4 ball out in front of him.

As Luiz is taking his time one shot at a time, one handed, one of the funny guys on our team (Big Billy) leans over and tells me, "If your b/f loses this game, I'm gonna give him a lot of $hit."

I giggled to myself, thinking my b/f would get a kick out of it because they all take $hit from each other. 

So Luiz continues his tough run and gets out.  After Luiz wins, he's yelling and shouting and high fiving my b/f (even gave him a hug, lol). 

And I'm sitting there ready for the banter!  I'm ready to hear Big Billy's funny remarks to my b/f!

Well, BB doesn't say any thing to him. 

Hmmm. 

So I piped up and get bold and say to him, "I can't believe you lost to a guy who plays with a house cue."

"Shut up" he says quickly to me as we both laugh.

I hoped that would allow BB to pipe up next.  But, he didn't!

Then I felt a little funny, bantering all alone, lol.

After a few games, BB sat next to me and I asked him, "um, I thought you were going to pick on him for losing?"

He quickly replies, "I can't do that yet.  I haven't played Luiz.  If I make fun of him now, and then I lose, he's going to give it back to me worse!"  LMAO.

Good point!

LOL!

They are smart banterers!

Watch Your Towels

Last night I went to a big weekly tourney at Rusty's Billiards.  I showed up fashionably late just so I could mingle with my girlfriends Laura and Amanda and my boyfriend.  I was too tired to play in the tourney itself, but I grabbed a nine foot table to play a few games of one pocket.

My b/f grabbed his case off the table where everyone puts their cases and notices my new blue Hustlin' towel is missing.

He expresses concern over it (I lent it to him during the pro tournament last weekend) and he stated, "someone stole it".  My optimism kicked in and I replied, "I'm sure it just fell off."

He explained, "It was hooked on - it can't fall off."

"Oh, okay" I say in my normal "go ahead and think negative" attitude voice.  lol.

He searched around the area where his case was and didn't find it.  When he came over to the table we were about to practice on he expressed, "I hope it's just in the car somehow."

He is called for his second match of the night and he has to play one of the Pro Players who is still in the area after this weekend's Ultimate Ten Ball Tourney.

He loses hill-hill but as he walks back to our practice table, he points to his case and the missing blue towel!

I said, "where was it?"

He replies, "the girlfriend of that guy I just played had it with her stuff."

What?  Really?  omg....

I asked him how he got it back and he said, "I just took it and neither of them said anything."

The non-action tells me maybe it really was taken from his case.  Why else wouldn't they stop him?

We were all kinda perturbed about it the rest of the night.

We will never know what truly transpired, but here is a pic I took of the towel and the clasp (pretty tough to fall off, huh?)

I hate to think that way about people...

Playing Pool in Bras

I'm not trying to be like PoolSnark over at blog Pool Cue News and Review. I swear!  He is the one that normally talks about gossip-type things but I guess today it will be me.  Since I visit People.com once a day, that makes me an expert, right?  lol.

At the WPBA-recognized event (previously known as the Regional Tour Championships) held in Houston last weekend, Yu Ram Cha went scathing through the 63 other players to win the event. 

A second chance tournament was held starting Saturday night for those not in the main event and the pool room's owner gracioiusly added $500 to it. 

I'm not at the event, I'm tucked away in my bed at home 4 hours away getting rest for a big poker tourney the next day.  About 11pm that night, I start getting texts and phone calls about two players who are playing pool in their bras!  What?  WTH is going on down there!? 

Turns out two players (I wont name names) in the second chance event were playing a match and tried to out-do each other to get attention.  When one took their shirt off, so the other followed.  As expected, everyone grabbed their cell phones to take photos and videos.  The crowd gathered (imagine that) and the attention-ploy worked! 

Eventually, enough people complained to the Tournament Director who then came rushing over and immediately disqualified them.  The TD happened to walk over when it was hill-hill and one of the players was on the 8ball.

Words were exchanged, shirts were put back on, apologies were stated, some tears might have been shed, and explanations and also defending was going on.  I heard they were indeed allowed to finish that last game (not sure why).

As a WPBA-recognized event, I'm sure embarrassment is rampant right now.  It was still a very good, well-run, successful event, tho!  This black eye is nothing they should be ashamed of.  Heck, I don't even consider it a black eye - it's just another thing that happened to happen at a tournament.  Hell, I've heard of much worse.

My thinking is, tho, maybe this should catch on!  Everyone complains about how pool isn't mainstream and we need more sponsors and pool is hurting and no one cares about us, blah blah blah.

Maybe this should be our new marketing scheme! Playing pool in bras!

Dang Rude Drunks

Last night I watched two guys gambling it out intensely for over 3 hours.  It was toward closing time of the pool room and the adrenaline's were racing, pressure was obvious, emotions were high.  Race to 7 for $300 was the last set.  That meant one guy would go home with $600 or they would break even, so a lot was on the line.

Each guy made some critical errors, but they also came with nice shots.  Both players had their pride on the line (and the cash burning in their pockets). 

About 2am, the overhead bright lights come on to let the patrons know it was closing time.  Most people in the pool room leave - the shuffle board players, the weekend warriors, the Norm Peterson's at the bar, etc..  I stay to watch the match, along with the girlfriend of one of the gamblers, and also one mutual friend of ours. 

Then something stupid happens that annoys me.

A drunk girl comes over to say hi/bye to everyone.  I don't mind drunk girls - some of them can be pretty funny.  But this one spouted off inappropriate comments during their match and it ticked me off.

Picture the scene - emotions running high, running out of time, money on the line, pressure to win, they are barking at each other, etc.  The score is tied 5-5 and this girl comes over and starts making fun of one the guys.  Evidently she knows the guy (I'll call him Stretch), so I guess she feels comfortable to talk $hit about him (or she's too drunk to care).

She notices that Stretch makes funny faces before he shoots.  He takes his time when he's down on a ball, so it's more noticeable that he moves his mouth a lot - while he looks back and forth at the ball/ pocket/ cueball, he opens his mouth, closes it, sticks his tongue out, closes his mouth, opens it, etc. until he shoots.  It really is a sight to see and I myself have made comments to a friend about it.  BUT - this girl?  She states it OUT LOUD.... TO him, in front of everyone there, WHILE he's shooting in this gambling match, WHILE down on his shots.

I felt so bad for guy to have to fade her crap while he was obviously very emotional because he was the underdog, playing badly, and losing.  I honestly don't know how he didn't snap at her to tell her to shut up.

Stupid drunk people who have no clue should never be allowed near a gambling match. imo. 

She eventually left. 

Stretch and the other guy ended up breaking even. 

They'll play again - hopefully without her around, tho.  lol.