LSJohn
Verified Member
Short story, but Rod mentioned him in his last journal entry, so...
Somehow I became friendly with a Sicilian called "General" who owned an Italian restaurant/bar in Troy New York while I was working in the area in '69 or '70. There were a couple of 3X6 bar boxes with mud ball CBs in the joint, which was the CB I had played with most in recent years. (Probably why I still follow for position too often when draw would be better.)
I beat several people for several days and they finally got a player from a local pool room to come take me off. Turned out he wasn't familiar with the mud ball (kept trying to draw everything) and I toasted him too.
The next evening when I arrived, one of the regulars who had apparently taken a liking to me said, "Hey, John, come out to my car. I got some beautiful shirts that are just your style."
When we got to the trunk of his car, and he got it open to shelter us from the gaze of anyone inside, he said, "John, they've sent for New York Blackie."
I said, "Who's that?" and he said, "A guy you can't beat."
He really did have shirts in the trunk; I bought two of them to make it look good, and we went back inside. Blackie never arrived, which was good, because I hadn't decided how to handle it if he showed. I didn't want to turn him down flat and make my benefactor look suspicious, but I didn't want to blow any cash either.
I left the area soon after and never even got to see what Blackie looked like.
Somehow I became friendly with a Sicilian called "General" who owned an Italian restaurant/bar in Troy New York while I was working in the area in '69 or '70. There were a couple of 3X6 bar boxes with mud ball CBs in the joint, which was the CB I had played with most in recent years. (Probably why I still follow for position too often when draw would be better.)
I beat several people for several days and they finally got a player from a local pool room to come take me off. Turned out he wasn't familiar with the mud ball (kept trying to draw everything) and I toasted him too.
The next evening when I arrived, one of the regulars who had apparently taken a liking to me said, "Hey, John, come out to my car. I got some beautiful shirts that are just your style."
When we got to the trunk of his car, and he got it open to shelter us from the gaze of anyone inside, he said, "John, they've sent for New York Blackie."
I said, "Who's that?" and he said, "A guy you can't beat."
He really did have shirts in the trunk; I bought two of them to make it look good, and we went back inside. Blackie never arrived, which was good, because I hadn't decided how to handle it if he showed. I didn't want to turn him down flat and make my benefactor look suspicious, but I didn't want to blow any cash either.
I left the area soon after and never even got to see what Blackie looked like.