lfigueroa
Verified Member
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2004
- Messages
- 2,527
After all the references to Memphis I thought I was headed to Tennessee. Come to find out that Southaven is just a side-step over the boarder into Mississippi. Who knew?
This journey started out weeks before with Dustin repeatedly calling to me like some stout, grey haired, Bud Light swilling Circi murmuring, “Let’s go the Memphis. It’s a great bunch of guys. You’ll have a good time.” Over and over he called to me to come closer and closer to the rocks. And finally I buckled and agreed to drive with him to the home of Elvis and barbecue.
Off we went, pool playing Raul Duke and Dr. Gonzo, south down I-55 to the land of the polite people, Steely Dan and the Talking Heads serenading us southward. Though I consider myself well traveled, I actually haven’t spent much time in the South. So when we got there the first thing I notice is how unfailingly nice everyone is. During just the three days of our visit I have never heard so many “Yes, Sir’s” and “Yes, Maam, please’s” in all my life. It quickly got to the point that I began to feel incredibly boorish simply saying the occasional “Yes, please” and failing to add a casual honorific.
It was an easy drive and after checking in we made our way to Bill’s Southaven Recreation Center.
What a wonderful room.
Tucked away just off the interstate it is home to anyone who loves pool. The tables are well kept, the lighting just so, and the music, though a bit more country than my taste normally runs to, was pleasant enough. I mean after all, who doesn’t enjoyed hearing Jerry Reed wax poetic about the circumstances concerning, “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot” which truthfully I hadn’t’ heard in many, many years.
So let me get this out of the way first off: Bill is a wonderful host. A nice pool room — you got it. Action — you got it. Good food — you got it. Cold drinks — on their way. A hearty slap on the back accompanied with a warn Southern greeting — it’s there and plenty more.
Dustin wanted to hit some balls by his lonesome so I got another table and tried to acclimate myself to the cloth, balls, cushions, and pockets of the very nice Gold Crowns. Some of us broke for dinner and I had a great time with Jason, Todd, Colonel Billie, Robert, and Tom at Dale’s, a short ride away, with us enjoying steaks, fried catfish and chicken, and sweet tea. Afterwards it was time for the calcutta and I ended up buying half myself back from the Crab Man who seemed intent on frittering away his most recent social security check on what he called, “A One Pocket Icon.” (Funny moment: when the bid for me got to $150 someone in the back queried, “He’s that good?!” And when the bid immediately jumped to $200 there was, from the same spot, a muted, “Shoot, guess so.”)
My first match was against Todd, a local player with a fierce game. He shot straight and knew the equipment and I felt fortunate to eke out the win. Next played I played Mitch. Mitch is tough as nails and he made me suffer. Colonel Billie, from across the room, was watching and repeatedly tried to catch my eye and make funny. It was the whole Army vs Air Force thing that became something of a running gag between us. It all started when he related how miserable his Army officer’s quarters were out in the field. And then by chance he spent time deployed with an Air Force unit and was shocked to find much superior accommodations, replete with air conditioning. I politely explained to the Colonel the fundamental difference between the Army and the Air Force. “Billie, the difference between our two services is that when the order is given to secure a camp the Army sets up a perimeter. If the Air Force gets the very same exact order we negotiate a 30 year lease.
So I’m playing Mitch and I’m trying my best to ignore Colonel Billie but he finally gets me with a crack about how my being in the Air Force contributing to me "looking so debonair" late in life and I bust out laughing, trying my best not to disturb Mitch who’s down on a shot. Eventually Mitch and I get to 2-2 and he has me dead to rights, him needing one and me needing five. But he commits an error and I squeak out a four ball run to go to a hill-hill last ball situation. I buckled up for a tough one ball battle but then, suddenly and without warning, Mitch begins hallucinating and there are four-railers and extreme back cut banks off the end rail being fired at until, almost inevitably, he commits a fatal error and I am able to shoot a spot shot for the win. It’s my final match of the night and Dustin immediately is at my side with what is to be the first of many beers that evening.
My first match the next morning is against Robert on the streaming table. Robert is a charming gentleman but a fearsome opponent on a pool table. I play well and though I lose 3-1 I feel as though I was in it all the way making several nifty banks. Regrettably, for moi, they were not sufficient. Next I play Warren, Robert’s road partner. Warren plays a great game and I knew I’d be best off to play an aggressive game against him and somehow it pays off. My last match of the night is against John from Chicago. John plays a very studied, sophisticated game of 1pocket and I feel lucky to get the win. It is time to again irrigate my brain with beer.
My last match of the tournament was Sunday morning against Tom, again on the streaming table, which BTW is a very tough but fair table. I felt that I was in it all the way but Tom made several very nice bank shots to take it home. In fact, I was impressed with how quickly and effortless he went to two particular bank shots making them both several times. Thanks Tom. Getting back home I went to my home table and worked on those very two shots and will have them in my back pocket for the next time. I also want to say thanks to Jason. I had the chance to observe his game for a fair amount of time and picked up something he was doing on his draw shots. Once again, I tried it out on my home track and now it’s mine. And congratulations Jason on the win — well deserved.
And so, isn’t all that reason enough to try theses events occasionally?
There is the hospitality, the camaraderie, the competition, the opportunity to test your game, and the chance — if you’re paying attention — to pick up shots and techniques that will pay off handsomely down the road. Thanks to Bill for being a charming host, Jeanie for keeping the brackets straight and moving us along, Crab Man for the no nonsense officiating, Dustin for handling the dough and printing up the brackets, and Kentucky for the stream. If I’ve forgotten anyone I sincerely apologize but the old brain cells aren’t what they used to be.
And so, I finished tied for 5th/6th, played some great guys, and made a few bucks off the prize fund and calcutta. Dustin and I say our fare thee wells and take off up the road with Tom Petty and Billy Joel providing the soundtrack. It isn’t Thelma and Louise but it was still pretty cool.
Lou Figueroa
This journey started out weeks before with Dustin repeatedly calling to me like some stout, grey haired, Bud Light swilling Circi murmuring, “Let’s go the Memphis. It’s a great bunch of guys. You’ll have a good time.” Over and over he called to me to come closer and closer to the rocks. And finally I buckled and agreed to drive with him to the home of Elvis and barbecue.
Off we went, pool playing Raul Duke and Dr. Gonzo, south down I-55 to the land of the polite people, Steely Dan and the Talking Heads serenading us southward. Though I consider myself well traveled, I actually haven’t spent much time in the South. So when we got there the first thing I notice is how unfailingly nice everyone is. During just the three days of our visit I have never heard so many “Yes, Sir’s” and “Yes, Maam, please’s” in all my life. It quickly got to the point that I began to feel incredibly boorish simply saying the occasional “Yes, please” and failing to add a casual honorific.
It was an easy drive and after checking in we made our way to Bill’s Southaven Recreation Center.
What a wonderful room.
Tucked away just off the interstate it is home to anyone who loves pool. The tables are well kept, the lighting just so, and the music, though a bit more country than my taste normally runs to, was pleasant enough. I mean after all, who doesn’t enjoyed hearing Jerry Reed wax poetic about the circumstances concerning, “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot” which truthfully I hadn’t’ heard in many, many years.
So let me get this out of the way first off: Bill is a wonderful host. A nice pool room — you got it. Action — you got it. Good food — you got it. Cold drinks — on their way. A hearty slap on the back accompanied with a warn Southern greeting — it’s there and plenty more.
Dustin wanted to hit some balls by his lonesome so I got another table and tried to acclimate myself to the cloth, balls, cushions, and pockets of the very nice Gold Crowns. Some of us broke for dinner and I had a great time with Jason, Todd, Colonel Billie, Robert, and Tom at Dale’s, a short ride away, with us enjoying steaks, fried catfish and chicken, and sweet tea. Afterwards it was time for the calcutta and I ended up buying half myself back from the Crab Man who seemed intent on frittering away his most recent social security check on what he called, “A One Pocket Icon.” (Funny moment: when the bid for me got to $150 someone in the back queried, “He’s that good?!” And when the bid immediately jumped to $200 there was, from the same spot, a muted, “Shoot, guess so.”)
My first match was against Todd, a local player with a fierce game. He shot straight and knew the equipment and I felt fortunate to eke out the win. Next played I played Mitch. Mitch is tough as nails and he made me suffer. Colonel Billie, from across the room, was watching and repeatedly tried to catch my eye and make funny. It was the whole Army vs Air Force thing that became something of a running gag between us. It all started when he related how miserable his Army officer’s quarters were out in the field. And then by chance he spent time deployed with an Air Force unit and was shocked to find much superior accommodations, replete with air conditioning. I politely explained to the Colonel the fundamental difference between the Army and the Air Force. “Billie, the difference between our two services is that when the order is given to secure a camp the Army sets up a perimeter. If the Air Force gets the very same exact order we negotiate a 30 year lease.
So I’m playing Mitch and I’m trying my best to ignore Colonel Billie but he finally gets me with a crack about how my being in the Air Force contributing to me "looking so debonair" late in life and I bust out laughing, trying my best not to disturb Mitch who’s down on a shot. Eventually Mitch and I get to 2-2 and he has me dead to rights, him needing one and me needing five. But he commits an error and I squeak out a four ball run to go to a hill-hill last ball situation. I buckled up for a tough one ball battle but then, suddenly and without warning, Mitch begins hallucinating and there are four-railers and extreme back cut banks off the end rail being fired at until, almost inevitably, he commits a fatal error and I am able to shoot a spot shot for the win. It’s my final match of the night and Dustin immediately is at my side with what is to be the first of many beers that evening.
My first match the next morning is against Robert on the streaming table. Robert is a charming gentleman but a fearsome opponent on a pool table. I play well and though I lose 3-1 I feel as though I was in it all the way making several nifty banks. Regrettably, for moi, they were not sufficient. Next I play Warren, Robert’s road partner. Warren plays a great game and I knew I’d be best off to play an aggressive game against him and somehow it pays off. My last match of the night is against John from Chicago. John plays a very studied, sophisticated game of 1pocket and I feel lucky to get the win. It is time to again irrigate my brain with beer.
My last match of the tournament was Sunday morning against Tom, again on the streaming table, which BTW is a very tough but fair table. I felt that I was in it all the way but Tom made several very nice bank shots to take it home. In fact, I was impressed with how quickly and effortless he went to two particular bank shots making them both several times. Thanks Tom. Getting back home I went to my home table and worked on those very two shots and will have them in my back pocket for the next time. I also want to say thanks to Jason. I had the chance to observe his game for a fair amount of time and picked up something he was doing on his draw shots. Once again, I tried it out on my home track and now it’s mine. And congratulations Jason on the win — well deserved.
And so, isn’t all that reason enough to try theses events occasionally?
There is the hospitality, the camaraderie, the competition, the opportunity to test your game, and the chance — if you’re paying attention — to pick up shots and techniques that will pay off handsomely down the road. Thanks to Bill for being a charming host, Jeanie for keeping the brackets straight and moving us along, Crab Man for the no nonsense officiating, Dustin for handling the dough and printing up the brackets, and Kentucky for the stream. If I’ve forgotten anyone I sincerely apologize but the old brain cells aren’t what they used to be.
And so, I finished tied for 5th/6th, played some great guys, and made a few bucks off the prize fund and calcutta. Dustin and I say our fare thee wells and take off up the road with Tom Petty and Billy Joel providing the soundtrack. It isn’t Thelma and Louise but it was still pretty cool.
Lou Figueroa
(you would have actually enjoyed him in that setting). Hope to see you in Philly.
