A (Pool) Sharks Tale!

Back to the tall tales and short stories...

I recently watched an old movie which always fires me up, as well providing great lessons in character, integrity, and reminders in the ways of hustling, and living with the sharks when in comes to matters of the pool halls. 'The Hustler' was made in 1961, based on a novel written two years previously, and featured the legendary Paul Newman (pictured) as 'Fast Eddie Felson', the challenger to Jackie Gleason's 'Minnesota Fats' as the best pool player around. Shot in stylish black and white, it remains the best pool movie ever made. It encapsulated the stereo-typical image of smoke filled pool halls, along with the sort of characters associated in these establishments. It was so authentic you could almost catch a whiff of the stale smell of bourbon and cigarettes.

I didn't particularly enjoy a mis-spent youth, but I did take advantage of any spare opportunities available to me. Whereas my contemporaries were playing the slot machines in the arcades, I was either upstairs or at the back of the amusement arcade honing my pool skills. I knew I had a talent at shooting pool, but it wasn't until I hit my thirties that I really started to realise my potential.

When I moved to Bournemouth at the turn of the century I joined a pool club, and a good mate of mine at the time, Marty Farrelly, used to visit me quite regularly and we'd play marathon matches lasting for hours and hours. It's fair to say that Marty had a bit more flair than me, but then again I had a bit more 'nous' than him, so invariably the matches were pretty even and we both improved greatly by way of appreciating and understanding each others playing styles. Marty got so good and had a bit more spare time than me, so he persued his skill to the extent of entering tournaments, and he got so good so quick, that before you knew it he was ranked officially inside the top 50 pool players in the country. Knowing that I could compete with him, gave me the confidence to continue my own playing, but rather than competing in tournaments, I tended to 'hustle' around the pubs and clubs. This was an education in itself...

When you 'hustle' around a town, you soon get noticed and reputations are soon earned. You also come to terms with the problems associated with playing for money or gambling. I've never been one to have a flutter on the horses, or nip down the bookies to place bets on football results, but when it comes to backing your own ability I do feel a little differently. But unfortunately, playing for money only leads to trouble, distrust, and dealing with dodgy people!
The simple rule that I've learned is: don't play for money, as it always ends in tears!
The secret of being a good hustler is to appear as a competent player, but not as a good player. That way you can entice a challenge, and when you then raise your game to win, not too many questions get asked. If however, you go from 'chump' to 'champ' in an instant, then you're inviting trouble.
The worst thing about playing for money is that when you win, you very rarely get the cash. The usual response from your opponent is that he'll play you again, double-or-quits. This is all well and good, but when you win again the same response is received. This continues until eventually your opponent wins one game, but when you throw the gauntlet down of double-or-quits yourself, he gives you the finger and demands his winnings!
Top tip: If you ever do play for money, get a third party to hold yours and your opponents stake, and then the winner can collect the funds from them before deciding whether to continue with another game.

There was one story I can recall of when I kept winning and my opponent had no more money to bet with, so he bet me his girlfriend for the next game...again I won, and yes I won her affections for the night. Being a gentleman I declined of course!
Another tale involved playing against a 'pikey', and after every game that I won an additional 'pikey' arrived to try and intimidate me. By the end of the evening I knew I was going to be in a lot of trouble. Fortunately, I managed to bet the stakes at a consistent rate, rather than double-or-quits, and I carefully lost a few games so that the 'pikey' won some of his money back...but never again!
I recently had a few games of pool with my mate Chappers, when we were suddenly confronted by a guy demanding to play one of us for money. Chappers gracefully withdrew, but I was insistent that I wouldn't play for money, and I guess the guy was appreciative of this in the end as I whipped his ass! Lol.

The only period of my life when I did play competitively, but within the confines of a team in an official league was when I lived in Bath. I drank at the George & Dragon in the village of Batheaston just outside the main city, and we had a pretty good team.
In our first season we gained promotion from Division Two to the top league, as well as reaching a Cup Final. A team is made up of six players ~ each plays one individual game against an opponent, and then you pair up to play three double games. Over the course of the two seasons I played I only lost a few times and I knew that I had become a good match player. But I wasn't enjoying the seriousness of the top league. I'd rather play for fun, and seeing as our team was slowly disbanding anyway, I quit at the end of our second season. There was also the added distraction of a lovely girl who worked in the George & Dragon.
When we playing home games I'd rather be chatting to her at the bar than supporting my team-mates around the pool table. And at the away games I spent all my time on my mobile phone texting her, with the exception of when I was actually playing. In fact I remember one game, when I had to be encouraged to put down my phone as it was my time to play. I reluctantly put my phone in my back pocket; shook my opponents hand; tossed the coin which my opponent won; he broke off, but nothing went down....and then I proceded to clear the table in about two minutes. Once my opening shot went down I could just see the rest of my balls lining up one after another, and providing I got my positioning right, I knew I could clear up in one visit. And that's just what I did. As soon as the black went down, I shook my opponents hand again...and got straight back onto the phone to continue messaging my lady!

Ah...seven-balling opponents!
It may not quite be a 147 as in snooker, but it's the near equivilant!
It doesn't happen very often, but when it does it's a great feeling to achieve it.
There's only your seven balls plus the black, but to clear the table before your opponent can get to pot even one ball is the holy grail for a pool shark!
A bit like a top snooker player instinctively appreciating an opportunity for a maximum clearance, just by the lay of the balls, a good pool player can see a similar chance to clean up immediately. One such case occurred when I has enjoying a friendly game with my mate Curph down his local 'The Portsbridge' in Cosham.
As soon as Curph broke off and nothing fell down, I approached the table and could just see the next eight shots all laid out for me...I just knew. I then looked at Curph and almost by way of an apology I asked his permission to clear the table. He appreciated the gesture and hopefully understood it was just one of those situations which I couldn't resist! I cleaned up accordingly, put my cue back in the stand, and brought Curph a pint...a case of quit while you're ahead and don't upset any locals! Lol.

After the pool league back in my Bath days, I sort of 'retired' myself from playing competitively. I 'hocked' my cue and walked away from it all.
But I must admit that I have rekindled thoughts of participating seriously once again. I genuinely think that with a bit of practice I could be quiet a handy player, although if I was to persue it I think I'd rather do it as an individual compared to being part of a team.
I'm not saying that I am the best...I'm just saying that I know that I can compete against the best.
So maybe I will purchase a cue again, get down a local club or pub, start practicing seriously, and see where it tales me...

Steve M

A Valentine's Day Message

"Tears are words waiting to be written..." ~ Paulo Coelho

With it being Valentine's Day later this week, rather than recall a related tall tale or a short story, I thought I'd rather just write a few words on the subject.

To all you loved-up happy couples out there I wish you every happiness, without a hint of jealousy.
All I will say is make sure you appreciate how lucky you are, and make sure that you spoil one another every chance you get.

To all you like-minded 'singletons' I say don't despair, our time will come one day.
One thing that I learned in life is that it is better to be happy and single, than be together and miserable.

Although I've tried to move on in my persuit of sharing future happiness with someone special in my life, it is inevitable at this time that my thoughts are with my ex-girlfriend, who tragically passed away last year after losing her brave fight with cancer...she may be gone but she's never forgotten as she's lives on in my heart ~ R.I.P. my sweet Louise ♥

"Soul to soul ~ Head to head ~ Heart to heart ~ Eye to eye
 Rise up to that blue space above the clouds
 Where troubles die and tears dry..." ~ 'The Sky Above The Rain'.

Wishing everyone a Happy Valentine's Day whatever your status, age or gender.
Much love & peace to you all.

Steve M

 

The Haruru Falls: An Euphoria of Discovery

"Trusting without judgement is obeying what has already been done spiritually,
 Asking why is asking for a lie...
 Love, Joy, Acceptance, Blessing, Gratitude.
 Give up the hope of a better past..."

After slightly losing my focus recently due to personal reasons relating to matters of the heart, I'm happy to be able to return to the intended theme of my blogs...which is tall tales and short stories! The original working title of this blog was 'The Day That Changed My Life', but I felt that was a bit dramatic and there have been many days which have changed my life at one junction or another, so it'll be difficult to single any one day out. But the day in question with regards to this blog was indeed an 'Euphoria of Discovery'.

Up until four years ago I'd never really challenged myself, or pushed myself out of my 'comfort zone'. Yes, it's true that I'd continually moved location within the UK, changed jobs, and turned up in new towns and cities not knowing a soul, but once I did this once thereafter was never a problem for me.
I had developed a gipsy's lifestyle, never settling anywhere for too long, but I had also sensed that a yearning to travel, and to explore, and to seek adventure was burning away with desire deep within myself.

"Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer..."

With the exception of the whole of southern England, the extent of my travel had only been to various destinations in Ireland, so I knew that if I was going to truly explore and challenge myself then I needed to journey to the other side of the world, so that I could realize a life-long dream by visiting New Zealand.
The specific story that I'd like to regale here is also one of great personal significance, because at the time it did truly change my life, as it gave me the confidence to really push myself and to be adventurous.

What was this tale I hear you ask? ~ well, let me begin...

On my discovery of the two stunning islands which make up New Zealand, I encountered many majestic sightings and experienced many fantastic achievements. Although my preference is undoubtedly the South Island, and in particular Queenstown, Wanaka, and Te Anau, it was actually an area on the North Island which took my breath away with it's beauty, and which is at the heart of this story.
Paihia  is situated just north of Auckland, and is commonly known as the entry point to The Bay of Islands. Joined alongside Paihia by a small bridge is Waitangi, which is actually believed by some to be the birthplace of NZ. This is due to the historic treaty which was signed in 1840, where an agreement was reached to the running of the country between the Maori Chiefs and the British Crown. The colonial Waitangi Treaty Grounds remains a tourist attraction and directly opposite the grounds lies a golf course and an intriguing signpost which caught my attention: 'Haruru Falls ~ 10km'.
I decided to venture towards this trail and see what developed and how my trek would unravel...

I began my journey tentatively walking along a narrow flint footpath which hugged one side of the back nine of the golf course.This was quite gentle and pleasant, so my confidence grew with adventure although it was obvious even at this stage that there was some type of history attached to this trek. The whole of the country is beautifully maintained, yet there were signs of damage along the path which was very suprising when compared to all that I had witnessed so far.
Then suddenly the path took a sharp turn left, away from the golf course and the previous flint path transformed into a combination of gravel, clay, and mud. And where I experienced space just before, I was now confronted by tight over-hanging, tropical plants, and the sensation that the forest was closing in on me. Additionally the climate suddenly changed from warm, pleasant sunshine to humid, light rain. It was then at this point that I had a decision to make...
All of a sudden the encroaching forest retreated, to be replaced by an open, bubbling swamp, and the only means of crossing this swamp was by way of a rickety, partly broken, zig-zaggy old foot-bridge with no hand rails on either side.
What was I to do?
My initial instinct was to turn back, but why come all this way and not venture any further. I chose to press on regardless, without thinking that I was totally isolated and that nobody knew where I was. It was a decision that would prove to be an inspired one, because once I crossed the bridge the whole landscape changed once again. Every turn of the countless bends along the trail over the next few miles opened up different mysteries. There was wildlife, there were mangrove forests, there were sharp climbs and treacherous drops, but there remained complete satisfaction with the tranquil peace and sense of discovery.
Within a few hours I began to hear the noise of the waterfall, and once I finally reached it I was filled with a great sense of personal achievement. In the end the sight of The Haruru Falls was not as spectacular as one would imagine, but the journey to get there definitely was!
On the return trek the heavens opened with a tropical rainstorm, although under the protection of the forest this didn't particularly impact on me too much. When I eventually returned to Waitangi, I did so with much relief and much joy, as I had realized that I had pushed myself way beyond my comfort zone, and I had proved to myself that no challenge was insurmountable.

I later discovered that I had been right about the aforementioned damage, as during the previous year there had been terrible flooding in the area, and the whole path had to be re-landscaped, so I was even luckier than I imagined to be able to complete this trek.
The day itself was completed by joining up with some wonderful friends, Christine & Brian Mountford, and we enjoyed a fantastic evening meal on the Paihia pier restaurant, containing freshly caught dory fish, washed down with my favourite 'Mac Gold' lager...happy times!

The following day was equally memorable for the fact that I awoke early and caught the most beautiful sunrise on Paihia beach...an image which I'm never tired of showing or using to advertise my blogs. This photo is featured at the foot of this blog, along with one of The Haruru Falls.

And finally talking of photos....
Unfortunately, with the exception of the Paihia sunrise all photographic evidence of this specific adventure has since been lost, but I know that I did send some pictures to my great friends Denise Beaven & Glenn Courtney at one time or another...so Denn & Glenn, if you're reading this please could you trawl through your computer when you get a chance, just in case you find a file containing these images ~ believe me, it would be very greatly appreciated!

Steve M