Louisiana Amateur Tour finals tournament

11-04-13

This past weekend I participated in a highly competitive tournament of amateur pool players.  There was no handicap.  The game was America's favorite pool game, EIGHT BALL. 

Approximately 74 players competed for over 13,000 dollars.  In this event we had a Calcutta, a system of where the player or other people can bid on a player.  If the player is purchased by someone other than himself, the player has the right to purchase up to 50% of himself, otherwise the purchaser can keep all of the player's Calcutta or sell off any portion he wishes to someone else.

I knew in this event that I would be a long-shot to win this event, and despite the outrageous bidding that was induced by Keith Hulin, the auctioneer, and owner of Emerald Billiards in New Iberia, LA, I purchased 100 % of myself for $410.  It was an outrageous sum for me but I figured I would gamble as there was a lot of dough at stake.   Other players that play at an even higher level than myself, often went for far less than I did in the Calcutta.

The entry fee had been set at a very low price of $25.  I mean really, this was the FINALS EVENT of this tour and the entry fee should have been raised to show a measure of respect for a finals event.  It should have been a little more prestigious than twenty five bucks.  Heck, the hotel cost a lot more than the entry fee.   Maybe they will consider raising the entry fee on the final event in the future to boost the payouts for the players who supported the tour.  I don't think the entry fee should be higher than $50 though because this is an Amateur event.  Others may have a differing opinion as it should be; that's just mine.

On another note, there were a few people complaining that the race of 5 on the winner's side and 3 on the one-loss side was not fair or appropriate.  If the results were any indication of fairness, I have to admit that a lot of supposed underdogs like Michael P Weeks (who won the event) proved that the minor change in racing from 3 on the winner's side to 5, had little to do with who won.  There were many other matches where the supposed underdog won the race to 5 and lost the race to 3 against better players.  In summary, I think the race to 5 on the winner's side allows the lesser player to warm up.  It has been my experience that when you have less experience at competing and even less skill it takes you longer to warm up than it does for a more accomplished player to warm up.  That being said, it appears that there were plenty of upsets in this amateur event.  The underdogs often played exceptionally well. 

I was thrashed rather soundly by good playing Mitch Foor of The Big Easy pool room by a score of 5-2.  I lost my last match against Larry Labauve and finished 7-8th in the event.  I played about as good as I can play and it just wasn't good enough.  Hopefully, the promoter, Jacob Pennison will choose to continue his efforts and bringing something good to the amateur players of Louisiana.

I think a few tweaks here and there will help improve the Louisiana Amateur Tour even more.  I think there may have been too many qualifiers but that is only my opinion.  Also, I would like to see Bubba Brock reinstated into the Louisiana Amateur Tour because I think his banning was a mistake on the management's part.  These type of things can be corrected and other things can be improved.

The truth is that it isn't fair to allow players into the FINALS EVENT unless they qualify exactly as the majority had to do.  If I could just ship in a hundred bucks to play in the FINALS EVENT, it would save me a lot of Saturdays, time and MONEY.  So this needs some consideration as well.

Overall, I think the first completed session of the Louisiana Amateur Tour was a rousing success, despite a few bumps in the road.

I would like to see a complete written list of the rules, the payout percentages in both the Calcutta and the events (BEFORE the Calcutta bidding starts).  It is not fair to those who bid large sums of money when they do not know if they will even have a chance of getting their money back.  I managed to win only $145 in the Calcutta despite my bid of $410.  Obviously, I went for a lot higher price than I should have but that's not the point.  Everything should be out in the open, IN ADVANCE.

Also, there should be a list of the Louisiana Amateur Players and their complete names.  There is no good reason to call players by their first name with just an initial and not their last name.  When a player's name is called for the Calcutta, his entire name and where he is from should be announced, along with any tournaments that he has won.  The player should then have to appear in front of the tournament event for everyone to see them.  At this time, the player should be required to pull a number from a container and that number will specify the position he will be placed on the tournament board.  Many people complain that they don't know how they were paired up with their road partner in the very first match.  If the choosing of the position on the tournament board is done this way, no one can complain about anything, except lady luck.

Also, I believe that the management needs to specify the number of spots that will be paid out in both the tournament and the Calcutta.

I had a great tournament and found myself lacking in enough skill to win this event and am thinking about ways to inspire myself to improve.  Stay tune to Facebook and friend me if you like and I will share some of these ideas as I mull them over.  My Facebook name that I use for pool is: Joey Apoolcommentator.  That's just a distinction for my pool pals all over the world and where I post most of my pool content.  On AZ Billiards I am known simply as:  JoeyA.

Personally, I had a great time at this event, even with my disappointing finish.  I met a lot of new players and renewed old acquaintances alike.  If you haven't played in the Louisiana Amateur Tour, you should certainly check it out.  Congratulations to all of the players that came out and made this such a fun event.  Thanks to the pool room owners who got behind this tour and brought in a lot of players that wouldn't normally have gone to their respective pool rooms.

Don't miss out on competing!  I have competed against better players than myself, most of my life and the beatings I have taken and continue to take are just lessons in life.  Life isn't always fair but if you pay attention to the lessons you learn, a beating or a win in a pool tournament can leave a lasting impression and make you the stronger and smarter for it.  Hope to see you all at the next tournament.

Best Regards,
JoeyA

The Lone Ranger

From watching countless episodes of the Lone Ranger, I knew that one of the actors that played the Lone Ranger was named Clayton Moore. The Lone Ranger was my most favorite western television program. As a child, sitting in front of our small, black and white television I had often echoed the Lone Ranger's famous bellow, "Hi-YO, Silver! Away!"

As a young man, in the early 90's I always wondered what happened to the actor who played the Lone Ranger. I knew that I had not heard that he had died. That is the kind of information that would immediately hit my radar screen. Anyway, I wondered enough to somehow, manage to obtain the home telephone of Clayton Moore. Don't ask me how. It has long since left my memory banks as to how I came into possession of his home telephone number.

I was ecstatic that I might be able to talk with one of my heroes but I was enough of a realist to expect the worst. I mean, who in the world could expect to talk to the Lone Ranger, especially such a stranger as myself? I made sure to make the call when my family was not around. I didn't want them to think of me as a stalker nor did I want them to know of my disappointment when I would dial the phone number and it would not be the Lone Ranger. I don't remember ever telling anyone about this phone call before. The new Lone Ranger movie coming out in the next few days prompted the memory and so I thought I would share that memory with all of you.

As I dialed the phone number, remembering that it was long-distance and I was using a land-line that did not have unlimited long distance service, I knew that I would be paying for the phone call but didn't care what it cost. Like I said, who wouldn't want to talk to the Lone Ranger. I remembered years earlier when there was a controversy about Clayton Moore, where he was not supposed to dress up in his traditional costume as the Lone Ranger for some purported legal reasons. What most people didn't know about Clayton Moore is that he was the real deal when it came to the creed of the Lone Ranger, not only on the screen but off as well.

With that being said, I think it is only fair to give credit to the person who created the Lone Ranger's Creed and for you to know the words as well. Fran Striker was the writer who created the creed but it was a creed that Clayton Moore honored throughout his life. It is as follows:

The Lone Ranger's Creed

By Fran Striker

1. I believe that to have a friend, a man must be one.

2. That all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world.

3. That God put the firewood there, but that every man must gather and light it himself.

4. In being prepared physically, mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right.

5. That a man should make the most of what equipment he has.

6. That "this government, of the people, by the people, and for the people," shall live always.

7. That men should live by the rule of what is best for the greatest number.

8. That sooner or later... somewhere... somehow... we must settle with the world and make payment for what we have taken.

9. That all things change, but the truth, and the truth alone lives on forever.

10. I believe in my Creator, my country, my fellow man.

These words gave Clayton the will to fight the money-men who would have him put away the Lone Ranger's outfit, to fight for what was right. The phone call that I was about to make was more than a phone call. It was a chance to talk with a man who lived a life of honor. It was Clayton's silvery voice that captured my ears and I knew that when he spoke I would know if the home telephone number was a ruse or not. My heart beat faster as I carefully dialed in the phone numbers.

I could hear the ringing of the number I had just dialed and that just sped my heart beat even faster. The first hurdle was over. The phone line was not busy and it was a good number and it was ringing. Still, I fretted over the possibilities that the number might be a wrong number, a bad joke, or a spoof of some sort. My hands were sweating as the third ring throttled through the telephone and then.....I heard, "Hello this is Clayton Moore". For a second, I was in unparalleled jubilation, but a part of me cringed internally because it might just be a recording. Immediately, I KNEW it was the Lone Ranger's voice. His voice was so unique even in the winter of his life, he still had the magnificent sounding voice of the Lone Ranger that we had all come to know and love. I hesitated, because I was waiting for the machine to say, "Please leave a message." I heard nothing and it was then that I knew that I was hearing the live voice of the real Lone Ranger. I stammered a late reply and said, "Hello, my name is Joey Aguzin. I want to apologize for calling you at your home. I'm just a fan of the Lone Ranger and I found your name and phone number and couldn't believe that I could talk to the Lone Ranger." (You see, at that moment I was so excited, I couldn't even separate the Lone Ranger from the actor Clayton Moore) Clayton replied, "Yes, I am the actor who played the role of the Lone Ranger" as he chuckled a bit. His silvery voice was still there and I was in a place that I could only dream about. Here I was talking with the real LONE RANGER. All I could think about was, "How cool is this?" I then told Mr. Moore that I loved his work as the Lone Ranger and appreciated the way that he had honored the creed of the Lone Ranger in his personal life. As I recall, he said something like, "Well, thank you Joey". I then spared him further phone clinching by telling him thanks for taking my call and he responded that it was his privilege. We said our good-byes and that memory lay dormant these last twenty years or so until the trailers for the new movie of the Lone Ranger from Disney started hitting the airways.

I believe that the Lone Ranger's Creed is something that we can all learn from and live by.

My best to you and yours.

Happy Fourth of July.
07-03-2013

Joey Aguzin

THE MOST TERRIFYING ROAD PLAYER I EVER SAW.

THE MOST TERRIFYING ROAD PLAYER I EVER SAW.

It must have been the early part of the 1980's. Again, it was at the infamous "New Orleans- Sport Palace". You really had to experience this place to identify with it. The Sport Palace had gamblers of every kind; card sharks, pool sharks, horse racing bettors, sports bettor junkies. You name it, they had it. It wasn't the kind of place that you just walk in and open yourself up to right off the bat. It was an intimidating pool room to say the least. There was a private card room in the back where only the locals could tread. A visiting dignitary could get a pass if he knew one of the local card players and they vouched for them but strangers weren't allowed in. No one wanted the police snooping around back there, so you had to be either “a friend of ours” or at least, “a friend of mine” to enter the card room. If I recall correctly, the card room had a bona fide charter and was named The Red Rose Social Club. Everyone was told that you had to be a member to go back there and for the most part, all obeyed the rules. How I became a member of the Red Rose Social Club, well, I still don't remember. I guess it was by osmosis and it just happened over time.

In the card room, you had all sorts of desperados and even some of the elite gamblers with titles like "Esquire" and "Dr." and "PHD" behind their names but for the most part, names like New York Blackie, Jim the Lawyer, Joey with a Tie, Fu Manchu, Tall Paul, St. Louie Louie, Buffalo Jimmy, Shotgun Dave, Pots and Pans, Joe the Grinder, Railroad Willie, Hotel Al, Tommy the Plumber, Chicken Joe, just to name a few. We all shared some common interests like pool, cards, gambling and hustling in general. We had former professional baseball players like Keith Shilling and Mike Cummings who liked to swing a cue with the best of them. It's interesting how many different classes of people we had at this pool room. And yes, we had a few people who liked to do more than imbibe, if you know what I mean. Most of the names I mentioned were regulars at the Sport Palace and there were many, many more that I haven't mentioned for various reasons. Some might call this place a Den of Iniquity but to all of us, it was an electrifying place where we would learn to hone our skills at gambling.

You either suffered and learned or you became a regular sucker for all of the locals to feed off of. Yes, it sounds a little harsh and it was. It is the way things were at the Sport Palace. Old man Pete would boil the finest seafood that you could find ANYWHERE. It was really that good and I mean everything he cooked. Old man Pete didn't talk much and he didn't gamble but he could cook some of the best tasting seafood you have ever eaten. Back then, the owners Louie Knott and Earl Heisler purchase true Number 1 male crabs to boil. These were humongous-sized crabs with succulent, white meat that is difficult if not impossible to find today. The prices were always reasonable; after all the members of this community came from all walks of life and above all, they were a seasoned bunch themselves, always wary of a good deal and a bad deal. Every Friday, people would start coming in around noon with their paychecks. Earl Heisler would cash their checks "for a price", have food for them to eat and cash for them to gamble with. Often, some of the Sport Palace regulars would stay the entire weekend without leaving, eating, drinking and most importantly, "GAMBLING. Sometimes Lady Luck would smile on them and sometimes she just gives a slap in the face and sends them home broke and needing to work another week just to do it all over again the following week. It really was this way. There weren't any casinos back then. The illegal casinos had already been closed for decades and the illegal gambling and sports betting were done behind closed doors most of the time. Louisiana has always had some horse racing which a lot of the regulars still went to but for the most part, the money circled inside of the pool room. There was ALWAYS action available and you didn't have to go looking for it because if you had cash, the action would come looking for you.

It didn't matter who you were, what academic credentials you possessed or what kind of car you drove or what part of town you were from. It didn't matter if your skin was black, brown, yellow or white. What mattered was "Would you gamble?" If you didn't gamble, you had to keep your mouth shut and watch the show. The gamblers didn't tolerate non-gamblers queering their action with small talk or knocking another player's action. The gambling was taken quite seriously by all who walked through those doors. For some of us, it was just a hobby and for others it was their life line. Veiled threats and sometimes pointed threats were common place, while the physical beatings were talked about in revered tones, by those looking over their shoulders. What else could you expect from such a Den of Iniquity? This day was a day much like any other day at the Sport Palace. The room was filled with gamblers with different amounts of money in their pockets and disparate portions of talent for the venue of the day.

Pool was the most respected form of gambling; at least it was for me. I had particular disdain for the card sharks that could and would manipulate and even mark the cards to cheat the unwary, but oh the pool players……. While it wasn’t particularly hard to hide your knowledge and skill of pool, it was out there for you to see. No sleight of hand business going on with the pool playing. You either recognized what was happening right before your eyes or you were one of the fish. I was young, full of spit and vinegar, sharpening my skills at pool and gambling by watching the seasoned veterans as they plied their trade. We had people who made their living just playing pool frequenting the Sport Palace on a regular basis. That’s right, some of these people never had a job or if they did, it was just to tide them over until they got pumped back up with some dough. People like New York Blackie and Ernie Sellers took plenty coup against the inexperienced players. There were players like Lenny Catonnio, Al Werlein who played against any of the visiting pool players and won their fair share against the world’s best pool players. We had dozens of players who could play with just about anybody in the world. This bunch was a highly skilled and highly seasoned group of pool players and it looked like they feared no one. The tables were full as usual, smoke filled the air but you could still smell the sweet smell of fresh boiled seafood that overpowered the smoke and any other noxious odors that might permeate the air. While a few of our denizen wore Brooks Brother suits, some wore the same clothes day after day. After all, how could you make any money if you were stuck at home?

There was one pool table that was empty of balls and people. It was the primary money table for which big matches were played on. The door opened and like all pool room gamblers do, eyes flashed toward the door to see who was coming through. You never knew if it might one of your own personal “customers”. As soon as the man stepped through the door, his persona was like no other man I had ever seen. I stand 5’10 ½” tall and while that isn’t extremely tall, it’s not short either. This man had to duck his head as we went through the side doors. He was wearing a top hat of sorts, not quite a Derby hat but it could have been described as a Derby type hat. It stood high up on his head which was supported by some of the longest legs I had ever seen on a pool player. He was tall but not gaunt and had a grave look about himself. This man had arms that matched his long legs, far longer than most men. His long coat stretched far down past his waist making him look even taller. He looked like he was 6’6” tall but was probably about 6’4” tall. Under one arm, he carried an inexpensive cue case that was barely big enough to carry one cue stick with two shafts at the most. Under the other arm, he carried a brown paper bag, like the ones you used to get when you bought groceries from the store. These days you are far more likely to get one of those cheap plastic grocery bags than you were to get one of those heavy-duty brown paper bags, although a few stores still provide them. The volume of the humming chatter in the room was immediately reduced as heads turned toward this formidable figure of a man. He walked into the room with only a few steps with his long legs. He quietly set his cue case on the vacant table, took off his hat and placed it next to the case. By this time, everyone in the place had their eyes on him. A slow buzz of noise started migrating around the room.

Apparently, some of the locals knew who he was but I sure didn’t. His size and style of dress caught my attention. There weren’t many pool players that wore a top hat like the one that sat on the empty pool table. The big man’s eyes swept and darted across the pool room as he removed the large brown paper bag from underneath his arm. No doubt, this man was a cautious man in spite of this brazen act he was about to commit. The bag had the top folded over a few times, making the paper bag seem like it was about12” tall. The bag was about as wide as the space between two diamonds on a pool table which measures 12.5 inches in width. The bag’s depth was about 7”. It had no writing on it, just a brown paper bag which he seemed very careful about holding upright. I was about ready for him to loosen a pack of rats on us or something because I noticed that not one single person approached this man, who was by himself. Sure, he was a big guy but everyone was welcomed at the Sport Palace, especially if you had “CASH”. My eyes were glued to the bag as soon as he removed it from under his arm. I knew he didn’t have a gallon of milk and a box of cookies in that bag but couldn’t figure for the life of me what it contained. This guy wasn’t fat but he wasn’t gaunt looking either. He was just a big guy with a serious looking face and no one said anything to him.

I could feel the electricity in the air and I knew something big was happening, I just didn’t know what. The rest of the pool room had practically come to a complete halt and when the filled pool room was almost completely silent, the big man, deftly unrolled the bag’s top folds and turned it upside down. Out rolled a couple of dozen rolls of money, all with rubber bands around them, some were rolls of fives, tens, twenties and hundreds. I saw no fifty dollar bills which many gamblers consider bad luck. Each of the rolls looked to be about 2-3 inches in diameter and there were lots of them as they lay on top of each other in the large pile on the pool table. My heart raced as if I were witnessing some special approaching climax. The money, the man, the atmosphere in the pool room; it was almost too much to bear. I scarcely even looked at the rest of the people in the pool room as my eyes were glued to that pile of money.

I was then reminded of the song by Neil Diamond, “Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show” where he sings, • ♫ Room gets suddenly still and when you'd almost bet you could hear yourself sweat he walks in • Eyes black as coal and when he lifts his face • Every ear in the place is on him • Startin' soft and slow like a small earthquake • And when he lets go half the valley shakes. ♫ Except that he doesn’t start soft and slow like Brother Love. Instead, he looks out at the pool room with his piercing eyes, glaring and daring with each squint, bellowing, “WHO WANTS TO PLAY FOR ALL OF THIS OR PART OF THIS?” The big man quipped a new line as he looked at each and every person in the room. Sometimes he would repeat a line for effect.

He looked directly at me, looking deep into my eyes and I was transfixed and unable to speak. He was looking like he could see right inside of my mind and it scared me. I think I must have been thinking that he knew I wasn’t a “real gambler” and that I might be an available fish for him to feed off of. But I was just as stunned when he turned to every single person in the pool room, looking as hawkish as a man can look, barking with his carrot and stick routine. (The Carrot and Stick Approach (also "carrot or stick approach") is an idiom that refers to a policy of offering a combination of rewards and punishment to induce behavior. It is named in reference to a cart driver dangling a carrot in front of a mule and holding a stick behind it. The mule would move towards the carrot because it wants the reward of food, while also moving away from the stick behind it, since it does not want the punishment of pain, thus drawing the cart.) The only trouble was, I soon realized that the money was the carrot for us and his pool stick was the thing that he would use to brutalize us. I realized this because as he looked at each person around the entire pool room and barked at them, they would all cower just as I had, bending to this Alpha male’s dominance. I had grown to revere my local pool champions who didn’t hesitate to bet hundreds and even thousands of dollars. Hell, they talked about massive scores they had made in their lifetime and I just knew one of them was going to take up the challenge from this stranger. A few of the Sport Palace veterans had already taken a spot far away from this man and I knew something was special about him.

I waited still, hoping against hope that one of our stalwarts would take up this challenge but each person bowed their eyes when he proffered his suggestion for them to play for any or all of it (referring to the cash). That day was the day when I realized remembered what had happened to the wizard when the curtain had been drawn back in the Wizard of Oz and had now happened to the invincible gamblers of the Sport Palace. From that day on, I viewed most gamblers in an entirely new light. I glanced again at the large pile of money as I had never seen so much money in one place at one time. My upbringing said you keep your cash in the bank, not on your person but here was this stranger, by himself in a city that wasn’t always nice to strangers, displaying this huge amount of cash and daring anyone to try and take a piece of it. My heart started to slow and a somber resolute came over me as I started to realize that my peers that I had held in such high regard were just pretend gamblers just like me. Before me stood a giant of a man who offered to play for all or part of this money and not one person in this seasoned den of thieves was brave enough to even try for a piece of this dough. The pedestal which I had placed these local, hardened gambling veterans on was now toppled over. I would never look at them the same. There was a new, big dog in town and that is how I came to meet the most feared road player I ever saw, Mr. U.J. Puckett. To learn a little more about this man who instilled such fear into all of us that day you can visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U._J._Puckett. Later on, when he was finished his verbal shellacking of us, he opened his small and simple cue case and began to hit a few balls. It wasn’t long before I began to realize what the other seasoned gamblers already knew. His stroke was long, smooth and rhythmic and the cue ball danced fanciful jigs as if it knew that he was the true master. No one played him that day and I never saw him again until I saw a youtube video of him that Harry Reasoner (60 minutes fame) had made. Part 2: My perverted innocence of misplaced respect for our seasoned gamblers had been given a measured dose of medicine. Now, I knew that in every gambler,lays another lie and just around the corner; a bigger and more ferocious junkyard dog is growling and snapping his teeth; looking forward to the next encounter to savage those of his own kind.

MY KINGDOM FOR A DRINK OF WATER

My Kingdom For a Drink of Water. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small, quiet man stared at the chess board with mayhem on his mind. His opponent, a slightly older man also pondered the chess board with great intensity. A couple of battles had already taken place when I came upon the scene and to offer a pardon of sorts, for my invasion to their privacy, I whispered, "Would anyone like a drink? The older man, one whom I knew many years ago in Jackson Mississippi, barely looked up but nodded a no. The small, quiet man meekly replied, "Water". In a few minutes I supplied an unopened bottle of water from one of the many places you could purchase food and drink throughout the Horseshoe Casino. The gift was politely accepted with an appreciative nod of thanks and that was all that was needed. The game commenced and I watched as the two titans battled on the checkered field. Both men played an excellent game and afterwards they traded "what if" games. This chess match was a pleasant but not a complete surprise as many pool players seem to enjoy the game of chess.

A few days later, I was having a fun time with the heavy drinking boys from Norway and another from Chicago and it was getting late. We had several beers at the table buying round after round when someone mentioned if we were going to watch the mini-one pocket tournament. I must have turned ten shades of red when I realized that not only did I possess ONE of the 32 entries but that I was far too merry to play a decent game of one pocket, especially after the long days, long nights and the occasional sampling of some multiple domestic beers. I take my mini-tournaments and any other tournaments rather seriously. Jose Parica passed by and remarked that he had won the last several one pocket mini tournaments at the DCC and that comment was met with severe skepticism by yourse truly since I had the honor of getting "lucky" against him and several other good players a couple of years ago. Someone mentioned if Efren was playing in the mini-one pocket tournament and Jose giggled a faked fear of death shudder and said "Efren????" We all laughed and continued our merriment as Jose went his way. Roy D'Fish from Norway suggested that I find Efren and give him my "ticket" to the mini-one pocket tournament. I have never really had much conversation with the Magician in past years although I have waited to play him in tournament play for over ten years, never receiving the honor. We quickly spied Efren walking around close to our table so we beckoned him to come closer and I offered him my place in the tournament. After he accepted my offer, I went to the booth to have my name to be replaced with his. As midnight quickly approached, we went to watch the games in progress.

My roommate ChicagoMike was quickly vanquishing his opponents when he ran into "Bata" and although Chicago MIke fought a good battle, Efren won the war. The tournament was a lot of fun and I could only think of the players who played Efren and how they must be enjoying themselves. A slight bit of envy surfaced for a moment but it was combined with a sunshine of pride for it was me that had brought all of them this great opportunity. Efren didn't disappoint anyone and captivated all of us with his sterling play and unique shot selection. He bested all of his opponents but not without all of them giving their best. By this time it must have been seven o'clock in the morning and so we retired to enjoy some food at the breakfast buffet, just Efren, Roy and myself. We broke bread with the greatest pool player the world has ever seen and listened to his stories as he did with ours. Efren and I divided the spoils of his labor and I paid for the breakfast and Roy and I sauntered off to get some much needed rest while Efren was asked by a regular fan of his to play a set of nine ball for small stakes. He seemed to be in a bright mood with energy to spare and started out on yet another journey while Roy and I went to visit the Sandman exhausted from the day's play and long week at the Derby City Classic.

After an exhausting long stay at the Derby City Classic, having more fun than a man should be allowed to have, I was sitting in the airport, waiting for my flight when I spied two of the great players from the Philippines sitting together, across from the lobby where I was sitting. One of them was Efren "Bata" Reyes, the quiet and humble man I had offered a drink of water to while he played chess. While Bata means "kid" in his native language, he has long since passed that stage. Now most call him The Magician and for good reason, if you have ever seen the man play. He can really swing it as you can tell from my story above. He sat with another great player in his own right, Filipino champion Francisco "Django" Bustamante. Efren's narrow eyes somehow connected with mine and he gave a nod to me from across the airport lobby and I went back to reading my book and he to his conversation with Busty.

I was looking forward to returning home and my plane couldn't arrive quick enough for me. Finally, the boarding started and I was one of the last ones to get on the plane. As I was making my way to the back of the plane where me seat was located, who do I spot sitting by himself but Efren Reyes. He was asleep or trying to sleep and I fumbled around for my digital camera. I had never seen a photo of Efren sleeping, especially on an airplane and thought it would make a nice memento. I was trying to hurry and the camera settings were off and just as I was about to snap the picture, Efren's eyes opened and he grinned wildly at me. I laughed and he laughed and I apologized and muttered something about, "I wanted to get a picture of you sleeping" and I went on back to my seat. I could only imagine the rest of the people behind me that were still trying to get their seats were not too happy with me holding up the plane so I hurriedly took my assigned seat. I was happy to see that "The King" was on the same flight as me and that we passed that humorous moment together without incident.

As the plane filled to its capacity, I craned my neck to see Efren who was several seats in front of me and I noticed that the seat was still empty and it looked like no one was sitting beside him. I anxiously waited another couple of minutes, in case his seat mate was away using the airplane's restroom or just late getting on the plane. Minutes ticked by and as I determined that no one was sitting beside Efren, I made my move, dashing down the aisle of the airplane, hoping to not bring any attention to myself, since the seatbelt signs had already been posted. I plopped down in the seat next to Efren and he quickly opened his eyes again and smiled. I said, "A backer always likes to sit next to his player on the ride home." He smiled and said, "From now on, you are my OFFICIAL MINI-TOURNAMENT BACKER!". It was me that now was grinning wildly but for some reason that made me very happy. I knew it was just a token of his generosity and his humility as well as his appreciation for the moments we had spent together at the Midnight Mini-One Pocket Tournament but it was special and I enjoyed the moment immensely. We talked about his friend Francisco and his family. We even discussed making a video together. I have my own ideas about what people would like to see and shared my ideas with Efren and he agreed to make a video with me. There were certain things that he thought would be needed to make the video a success and I had the answers he sought, so it was agreed that if I got my project together, to just give him a call and if the timing was right, we would do the project. My head was already spinning with plans of what I thought would be best to share with the viewing public. Efren contributed as much to the conversation as I did. Anyone who thinks Efren doesn't speak English is mistaken and one day, I hope to have Bata join me in the commentary booth. Like his fellow countryman, Roberto Gomez, I hope one day to introduce Efren to the world as a contributing commentator. I had even decided to ask the Internet forums what questions they would like to know about Efren and during a slack in the action of the match that we would commentate, I would ask some of those questions. I've also heard audio interviews in the past with Efren made in England and the interviewer had some of the best questions I have ever heard asked of a champion. Efren did quite well in that interview and I know I could make him feel comfortable in the booth, despite my inability to speak Tagalog. So now you know, THE REST OF THE STORY. (compliments to Paul Harvey) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MAGIC IN THE CUE

Magic in the Cue... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yes, it was the one he used to win the 2011 U.S. Open One Pocket Championship with. We all know it is the Indian and not the arrow, right? Well, it could not be more true than in this case. When Efren walked away from the table, Alex P was "admiring" his Efren's cue and I asked Alex to tell me what kind of cue it was. Alex being the perennial pixie, quipped, "bamboo stick", grinning wildly. That brought a chorus of laughter from the gallery and I slipped on down to the TV table to get a closer inspection of Efren's personal cue. I and most others have seen Alex's respect for Efren on more than one occasion. Alex and the rest of the Filipino players all acknowledge Efren as THE KING. One time during the tournament Efren was walking past Alex and not talking to anyone, Alex bowed low and extended both of his hands toward Efren like you see in the movies and would not stop until Efren shooed him away with a wave of his hand. I thought that was some funny stuff. Wish I had that on video. Alex is my favorite comedian pool player for sure.

Getting back to the cue.....It was a rather thin shaft, just guessing that it was probably below 12.0 mm. The cue but itself had a few points but for all practical purposes, it was a very plain looking cue. Another thing that caught my eye was the collar of the shaft. It was odd to say the least and did not match the collar on the butt of the cue. The taper looked similar to a pro taper but I can't be sure as I did not have a caliper with me. Alex had been hitting some balls with THE CUE and I took my chances with facing the wrath of Efren. I know, I know it was stupid for me to hit balls with the champs cue but sometimes as human beings we do stupid things. I figured that my excuse that I was Efren's OFFICIAL "mini-tournament backer" might give me a stay of execution if the tip were to fly off of the cue or the ferrule breaking.

Alex warned me that he did not give me permission to use the cue and I acknowledge that and inspected the cue closer. The ferrule had a thin line under it where there was "separation" from the wooden shaft. I placed my fingernail along the separation to make sure that I was seeing things clearly and sure enough there was a thin space not quite as thick as my fingernail under the ferrule. On one side of the shaft, the ferrule actually extended out enough for my fingernail to sit under the ferrule. I was careful not to put pressure on the ferrule for fear of it coming off. I knew I didn't have much time as Efren would be returning soon. My blood pressure was increasing with each passing second so I set up my signature shot, the one with the object ball frozen to the middle diamond on the foot rail. Cue ball in the kitchen on the head string with the cue ball almost perpendicular to the object ball. I aimed just like I do with my OB Classic Pro and put the same amount of English and was very careful in doing so. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw that the cue ball hit the rail approximately 2 1/8" from the object ball. I shot a second and third time, thinking maybe I was being too careful or not aiming careful enough. I have made this shot many, many times and could not believe that I could not even hit the object ball let alone make it. After aiming directly at the object ball, I managed to barely clip the object ball, not coming close to making it.

I whined to Alex that I couldn't play with THE CUE. Alex, opined, "That is what makes Efren such a great player". Efren can truly play with any cue if he can beat the best one pocket players in the world with THAT CUE. I stopped after a few shots just in time to see Efren returning to the table and took a few moments to ask him a few questions, not wanting to disturb his continuity and focus. He replied that the cue was made or provided to him by Denny Glenn if I heard him correctly. Denny Glenn must be some kind of sorcerer and had given THE CUE some magical powers that only Efren can control. For me, the experience although it aged me quite a bit, I simply came away with more awe than I already had for "Bata". I still don't know if Efren saw me hit any balls with his cue. I only hit four shots with it but I know I couldn't play with it. I was just thankful that he didn't have one his minions punish me for my foolhardy move. As the tournament came to an end, I was in my room, listening to the commentary by Billy I, Corey Deuel and I think Larry Schwartz and I was kind of dozing off because of lack of sleep from the prior days. I set the alarm clock for 3:30 am so that I could donate a few dollars to the blackjack tables before I left for my 7:30 am flight and when I woke a couple of hours later, showered and packed my suitcase for the very early departure, who would I see sitting at the table next to me but THE KING himself. When he walked close by my table, despite still being embarrassed by my outrageous move, I managed to mutter a "CONGRATULATIONS CHAMP" and he kindly smiled at me and tapped me on the shoulder. He must have passed on some of his magic to me as I won the next few hands of blackjack and retired a winner. JoeyA