Pool Shark

I had a paper route, which means I got up early on Sunday morning to make deliveries.

One Sunday I get up, go out side, get some of the papers, carry them over the pool table and put them in my room. Then I go back outside to get the rest of the papers, lift them over the pool table and put ’em in my room.

I start rolling the papers and a sudden thought occurred to me: we don’t have a pool table.

I go back out to the rec room and there’s a pool table. I stared at it for a while, wondering how it got there, then give up. I’ll find out when somebody else wakes up. I hadn’t seen it the night before because I came in the back door.

At about eight o’clock, I’m trying to sleep when I hear “WHACK” over and over again. Everybody else is playing pool. I give up and get up.

So shooting pool becomes part of our lives. We were all pretty mediocre until one day we noticed Mom always won.

Why was this?

Simple enough. My sister and I went off to school. Dad went to work. Mom went downstairs, turned on the TV to her favorite soap operas and spent hours a day shooting pool.

You get really good when you practice a lot.

This was frustrating to my father and I because we were guys and a girl wasn’t supposed to be able to beat us at pool.

My father got so frustrated, my mother started letting him win games. I don’t know if he knew it, but if he did, he kept quiet about it.

One Christmas my mother ordered a custom built pool cue for my father. It had to be picked up at the local pool hall. I went with my mother to pick it up. While there, my mother watched some of the games being played. One of the guys jokingly invited her to play.

She whipped them all and, in the end, only quit because she didn’t approve of their language, which got worse the more they lost. And they all lost.

Whatever it is, practice. You’ll get better.

Cruise on over to Amazon.com and get a copy of “Closing Night, Thank God“.


Comments or questions are welcome. Or just tell me something cool.

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