losing pool; winning friends

I used to be a good pool player. Not for real good, but good enough that if you picked two people at random (who weren't at a pool tournament), I'd stand a decent chance of winning. Nowadays, I'm not so hot, but I can still make the occassional shot. Rhyming's more my thing.

Last week I was with friends at the LPP, imbibing and whatnot. We foolishly decide to deviate from our regular darts regiment and play a game of pool. While we're planning a rather scary, lonely, sea-captainy-looking guy puts money on the pool table. This is all the disincentive I need. My partner Alan, on the other hand, had a more diabolical plan. Hitting the winning shot, he then bowed out of the competition and left me to play Captain Scary Face.

Ok, so, whatever, it's a game of pool, how long could it take? The good Captain comes over and says, "Let's play 'bank 8.'" "Uhhhh," I say. "You know, bank 8." "Uhhhhhh," I repeat. "It's the same, but you have to bank the 8-ball in." What? While confused, I agreed.

We play and we eventually get down to the 8-ball, which, yes, we have to bank in (or kick the cue ball first and then pocket the 8). I might have a straight-in shot of the 8, but instead I need to find the nearest rail and hit it in that way. When the Captain suggested this style of game, I kind of assumed he was probably a good player. I've made the occasional bank shot in my life, but usually only when necessary. Certainly, he would be pretty solid at it, since he's had a lot of practice. Well, I was wrong. He was no better than I was an our first 10 attempts didn't come close to pay dirt.

We exchanged feeble attempts for a few more minutes. Then, I see my out. I had the 8-ball near a side pocket and the cue ball directly across - a perfect scratch opportunity. I call a pocket, looking focused. Hit the cue ball off the 8-ball and into the side pocket. VICTORY! Or so I thought. Captain comes over and says, "You know when you scratch playing bank 8 you don't lose the game, right?" Double fuck!

Play continues. I'm really trying to make the shot, but I had maybe one realistic opportunity. You know, a reasonable facsimile of a shot I had attempted at some other point in my life. He's doing no better and most of our attempts aren't close. A couple of guys put money on the table and watch us for a good ten minutes. Who knows what they thought. It made me feel kind of awkward, but the captain was nonnonplussed. Happily he hacked away. The guys picked up their money and left.

I couldn't even console myself with drink. I tried, but every couple of seconds I had to try ANOTHER impossible bank/kick shot. Minutes dragged into tens of minutes, tens of minutes into fifteens of minutes. I had kind of resigned myself to the fact that I was going to die at that pool table a crumpled mass of old man, pool cue worn to the nub, but still with no vitor, when suddenly, miraculously the Captain pocketed the 8-ball. He then began playing, "Love will keep us Together" on his keytar as I walked away, exhausted.

I'm still kind of pissed that I lost that game and the Captain.