Michael Silvers

 Michael Silvers is a successful attorney who has a passion for playing pool.  He and I competed with each other for several years, twice a week, on Mondays & Thursdays, from 3:00 pm to midnight on most nights.  Michael was not a gambler or action player, as some like to call themselves today but that never impaired his love for the game nor his desire to improve. 

Mike and I met at the infamous Sport Palace of New Orleans in 1981 and developed a friendship that lasted for decades.  When we weren't trying to beat up on one another, we had many fine conversations about a wide variety of subjects.  Besides being a successful attorney, he was a family man, married, and has a son and grandchild.  Mike lived a storied life, but it was a private one and he wasn't one to boast about his many accomplishments and I was privileged to learn from him all those many years.

Our practice sessions were serious, and Mike did not tolerate interruptions, so I schooled the many acquaintances who we shared at the pool hall, and for the most part, they left us to our game of pocket billiards.  We started playing pool together at a time in the history of pool when there was mystery and excitement that could show up at any time of the day or night.  It was before cell phones became common use.  Often, we would be playing pool, and a stranger would arrive in the pool room, looking for action.  Most of the time the stranger was known to only a small number of people, sometimes only one person or no one.  The stranger would sometimes be a road player looking for action and they came to the Sport Palace from all cities in America.  

Earl Heisler and Louie Knott were the owners of the Sport Palace at that time.  James Leone would come along a little later on and would add even more excitement to that amazing pool room.  Old man Pete would regularly boil in season, select seafood and I mean select.  Pete would be one of the first people to boil crawfish for the new season and I marveled at just how select he was when it came to crawfish.  He had a stainless-steel ramp about 3 feet tall and would carefully open the sack of crawfish so as not to damage them.  Pete would allow the crawfish to walk down the stainless-steel ramp.  If any of them couldn't at least wiggle their legs, he would remove them.  I forget the prices, but they were always reasonable and many people who didn't play pool would stop in to purchase Pete's Select Seafood.  There was no advertisement except by word of mouth but that didn't stop them from selling out every single crawfish.  The seafood that I liked the most was the genuine Number 1 Male Crabs.  This was back in the day when the crabbers didn't send their Number 1 crabs up North to well-to-do clients.  They were packed with rich, succulent white meat.  3 of those large male crabs would make a meal for the hungriest pool players and that was their target audience.   I never learned Pete's secret recipe for boiling seafood, but he took pride in his work, and I was happy to be one of their many customers.  On Friday evenings after work, the pool room would fill with customers, looking for a good meal, some pool action or perhaps a card game, which was shrouded in secrecy. 

The card room was off to the side and a large Charter was mounted to the wall.  The Charter was called The Red Rose Social Club and stated that you had to be a member to enter the card room.  I was never much of a card player, but my inquisitive nature got the best of me and after about a year of hanging out, I asked another attorney, Jim the Lawyer, how did one become a member of The Red Rose Social Club.  Jim was a talented card player, but he seldom played any pool.  Jim Durio was his name and he being a Cajun, enjoyed sharing a little humor.  He told me that you had to be invited to join the private club, and I asked him how I could be invited to become a member, and he said with a twinkle in his eye, that he might be able to help out, but only if I knew how to play cards.  That meant that I had to gamble at cards, not just know how to play cards.  After a while, I just slipped back into the pool room and quickly learned which card sharps to stay away from as well as the recreational card players who just wanted to have a good time playing cards for money.  I learned later on that The Red Rose Social Club was something that was started before integration and it was meant to keep out the colored people.  I always thought that was rather strange, since many colored people played pool at the Sport Palace like the infamous Eddie Brown, Chicken Joe, Big Willie and others, yet they weren't welcomed into the Red Rose Social Club, but times were a changin' and that's another story for another time.

Mike and I usually played 9 ball a rotation pool game, where you had to shoot and hit the lowest numbered ball on the table each shot.  We took turns as to who was winning based upon who was in stroke at that time.  Mike purchased one of the first Mike Bender Cues and it was classic beauty, black and white.  Mike Bender was an elite cue maker and if you have a mind to, check out some of his incredible creations or order a cue from him.  After seeing the precision and artistry that went into a Mike Bender cue, I decided to order one for myself, but I wanted it to be a tribute to the POW's and MIA's, a reminder of those who were prisoners and those who never came home.  While in the Marine Corps, I served in combat in Vietnam in 1970, and my service instilled a lot of respect for all servicemen and women who put their lives on the line for our country.  My friendship with Mr. Jim, a POW of the Japanese for TWO YEARS during World War II was an inspiration for my cue.  He was used as slave labor, tortured, and ultimately used as a test subject for dangerous medical experiments.  Jim didn't come right out and tell me what had happened to him but as he learned that I too had seen the horrors of war, he from time to time would share his terrible tale.  I learned many years later that Mr. Jim told me the entire truth about everything that had happened to him at the hands of the Japanese but that too is a story for another time.  So, I designed a POW-MIA cue with Mike Bender and his wife.  This is a photo of the cue stick and the case that was built by Jack Justis.

The POW-MIA cue was the first tribute cue ever built, and Mike Bender and his wife did an incredible job bringing my dream to reality.  I provided the POW-MIA artwork for Mike to use in the cue's creation and I often wondered if I would ever see the finished cue (young people are so impatient).  Finally, after a 2 1/2 year wait, I received a cue that I would love and respect for a lifetime.

After a few years of playing pool with Mike Silvers, he asked me a question.  He asked, "What do you want to get out of pool?"  I was set back a bit with the question but blurted out that I wanted to get better at pool.  This was before the days of YouTube videos, or websites designed for pool instruction.  Sure, there were a few 8 track tapes with videos of top players like my friend, The Professor, Grady Mathews but for the most part, you learned how to play pool by watching other top players and hoping to pick up a technique or two.  During that period, it was common practice that if you wanted to learn how to play pool, you had to gamble with the better players.  They would often offer a spot or handicap to the lessor player, but you had to hope you would learn something for your money because it wasn't likely that you would win even with the handicap.  The latter part hasn't changed even today.  I have always been a mercenary of sorts when it came to gambling at pool, but kept my gambling in check, not losing any more than I could afford to lose.  I probably won more money than I lost over the years, but I was always careful about letting other gamblers see how well I could play.  Mike had picked up on one of my tricks that I employed and said, "Well Joey, if you want to learn how to play better pool, you had better stop worrying about who comes through the pool room doors and just work on improving my game?  He explained that he had noticed that when one of my prospective customers would enter the pool room, my level of play would go down faster than a mudslide and he was right.  It was one of my ploys and used by many who gamble at pool.  So, it was Mike Silvers who got me on the right track and helped me to move from a "hustler" to a student of the game.  I have him to thank for these many years of pleasure, in learning how to be a better pool player and even to eventually become a better teacher/coach of pool.  After decades of learning how to play pool, I now receive great enjoyment helping others to enjoy the game of pool by teaching them new techniques and developing new skills.

Michael, this journey has been incredible, and I'm deeply grateful for your companionship along the way. Thank you for being a part of it.

JoeyA

 

                The Fishing Camp - Port Sulphur, Louisiana  Happy Jack

Fishing became an important part of my life many years ago, probably starting with my brother-in-law, Shelby Laborde.  He really introduced me to fishing and hunting, him being a bona fide Cajun Man of extraordinary talents.

Probably more than a decade after living in Jackson, Mississippi, we moved back to New Orleans (actually Metairie, Louisiana). We took up with another genuine American hero, "Mr. Jim", a POW of the Japanese for over two years who endured hardships, torture, and things too brutal to mention in detail here.  Mr. Jim took me under his wing and taught me about saltwater fishing and we had great times together.  I had just gotten back from Vietnam; ten years had passed.  It was 1981 and I was still trying to find my way back into society and I met this man who endured and saw far more than I did in my combat in South Vietnam as a Marine.  Jim taught me how to trawl for shrimp and used the shrimp for bait to catch redfish and speckled trout.  We caught a lot of fish together and Mr. Jim passed on some years later but that's not what this story is about.

I was working at Duplex Products, a large business forms manufacturer who had bought out Lewis Business Forms around this time, and Candy (my wife) and I had moved back to Metairie to live.  Things went well for several years, with me keeping the business that I had developed in Jackson, Mississippi while adding new business in the Greater New Orleans area.  The business forms industry had matured and while I was earning a great income as a commission salesman, the industry was taking hits from competition.  The digital age was just around the corner and computers were becoming everyday equipment not just for the big companies but the smaller companies as well.

Since my income was based entirely upon my ability to sell at a profitable level, I hustled hard, developing relationships that would last many decades.  I am ever so thankful for all of those customers who gave this young Marine a chance to serve them.  Marines and other military men and women coming back from Vietnam at that time weren't always openly treated well but I have to say that my small circle of people seemed to welcome me back into the world.  I worked hard, gave my best and customers seemed to like that so I continued making decent money, thinking that it would never end. 

After several years working under the giant umbrella of a company that had over 200 million dollars in annual sales, the bean counters (accountants) were asked by the stock holders as to why their dividend profits were falling.  The bean counters said that expenses were high with salesmen making lots of money and the only way to increase dividends was to get rid of all those salesmen making those big bucks.  They (the company) started up north in Illinois and worked their way across the country and eventually headed South to Louisiana.  I knew that the "hatchet man" was headed my way almost a year in advance.  Eventually, he made his way to Louisiana, and I was issued a Pink Slip.  The reason on the pink slip for my dismissal was "failing to fill out call sales reports".  At that time, I was the most successful salesman in our region, and I always sold more than my draw, which meant I got extra checks for my commissioned sales about and beyond what I had to cover for my "draw".  I had talked with my customers over that year and told them what was happening, and I asked them if I could provide them with the same quality products at the same prices, with the same service, would they come with me?  Every single one of those customers said yes. 

It was a Friday afternoon and the regional sales manager, a man name Bill Minnie or Minney came in and had me sign the pink slip.  I was guilty of failing to fill out call sales report forms because I knew they wanted to know the specific person I was calling on at each account and I guessed that they would have a tougher time, trying to take the business from me that I had earned over those many years especially if I withheld the names of the individuals that I had developed relationships with.  I figured if that was the best excuse they could come up with, it was fine with me.

The weekend was not all ice cream and apple pie.  My whole world was coming down.  I had worked for this company for since 1968 and now they were just getting rid of me like an old pair of shoes.  I was 36 years of age with little savings, but I had amassed $50,000.00 in my profit-sharing retirement trust fund.  On Monday morning I went to a local bank with my retirement fund documentation and asked for a loan of $50,000.00 to handle the cash flow of business that I hoped to hold on to.  I agreed to pay off the loan when my retirement fund had been sent to me.  I knew my company wouldn't be in a hurry to give me the $50,000.00 but I told the bank it would be 90 days.  In actuality, it should have only taken a few days to move the money, but I knew the company would drag its feet.  I had to be able to cover the sales during the time my factories invoiced me and the time my customers would pay me and I didn't want any problems.  The bank asked me about my business plan, and I had it all in my head and answered each question with conviction, and got the loan.  I knew this wasn't the best financial plan because taking money out of your 401K or retirement account almost never works.  This time, with a tight control over accounts payable and accounts receivable and thanks to my many good customers, it worked.

It was a difficult time for me personally, with the responsibility of the world on my shoulders or so it felt.  My wife was working for another company at the time, so we had health insurance through her company and while we had a young son, I felt more pressure than ever to succeed.  The Marines had taught me a lot about self-discipline and I went on a tear, working harder than ever before.  It wasn't uncommon to work 18 hours a day.  Some nights I would wake up in the middle of the night realizing I had another order from a customer that I needed to process.  This went on for several months until I had secured all of the business which I had earned over those many decades.  My old company Duplex Products tried to hire young college graduates to replace me and the other salesman but the bean counter's idea backfired and created a new wave of competition they had never dreamed of.  This miscalculation by the stockholders and bean counters resulted in this two-hundred-million-dollar company going out of business within two years of my dismissal.  All of my customers came with me and stayed with me for decades and I am forever grateful, especially to one of my best friends and customers, Jerry Powell.

During that time, I was still trying to balance being a small businessman and enjoying the fruits of my labor, when I started looking at purchasing a fishing camp in Port Sulphur, Louisiana.  I had fished very little in this area, but I had my eye on a section called Happy Jack and started researching the area, talking with anyone who would give me two words of advice.  I didn't know much about Happy Jack, except the camps on Martin Lane which was the Happy Jack area could be driven to instead of going to the camp by boat.  I was a one-man show, so I didn't want to get a camp where I had to drive my boat to the camp.  I searched for months, even calling the Assessor's Office to inquire about who owned which camps and which lots.  There was a small gray-blue camp that caught my eye, and my inquiries indicated that the camp had been for sale for quite some time but with no sale.  I finally contacted the owner.  His name was Mr. Langhof and when I talked with him, I just asked questions about the camp, the area, how long he had the camp for sale, and why he was selling it.  Mr. Langhof was very patient with me and answered all of my questions.  He told me how much he had been asking for the property, and it was over the budget that my wife and I had set.  I told him that I would discuss the property with my wife and get back to him. 

Weeks passed as I strained to figure out how I could justify purchasing this small but sturdy fishing camp that I could not afford to buy.  By this time, my wife and I had already developed a financial way of living in which we abstained from borrowing money.  If we didn't have the money, we just did without.  That was the way we lived our entire life.  From time to time, we had a car note but ended that as quickly as we started.  The house note was something we couldn't avoid so that was that.  But here we were, looking for a fishing camp, and couldn't find anything in our price range.  After much thought, I made the phone call to Mr. Langhof and told him that my wife and I were interested in purchasing the camp, but we couldn't afford the price that he was asking.  He stopped me right there in our phone conversation, and asked if I would be available to meet him and his wife at the camp on Saturday morning.  I stammered that we still hadn't agreed on a price we could afford and he said, "Bring your wife to the camp on Saturday and you're going to buy a fine fishing camp."  I reluctantly said OK, not knowing if he was just a great salesman, a great guy or just trying to get me to the table. 

After discussing it with my wife, we decided to the penny just how much we could afford to pay and drove down that Saturday morning.  Mr. Langhof must have been in his late 60's or possibly early 70's at this time and when we arrived Mr. Langhof was there with his wife. Candy and I introduced ourselves and sat down to discuss this very tough question.  Mr. Langhof had asked me if I "really" enjoyed fishing, and I said I did.  He then asked me how much I was going to offer him.  Since my wife and I had discussed this in detail I told him the amount which was substantially less than what he was asking.  I told him that my wife and I could not afford one penny more than what we were offering, and it was true.  I offered him the most money that we could afford.  He looked over at his wife and got "the nod" and he turned to me and said, "Well you've got yourself a camp."  My heart was beating fast, and I looked at my wife with amazement because I wasn't expecting to buy the camp that day.  I thought he was going to try and get me to raise my price but he didn't.

I'll always remember his kindness and how he required my wife be at the meeting to discuss the sale of the camp.  I knew he was a family man as was I and was just so thankful as we had some of the best years in that camp.  Lots of great memories with my son and extended family at that camp.  Hurricane Katrina eventually tore the camp to hell, and I worked to resurrect it but just got tired of working on the camp.  My good friend Paul Laplace who was a master carpenter helped me to raise and rebuild the camp and sold it shortly after that to a friend, Richard Sharp.
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Thank you Mr. Langhof, you made a young couple happy and helped to provide us with many years of outdoor pleasure.

Posted 21st June 2016 by JoeyA Pool Commentator

 

LAZARUS

Lazarus as some of us know, was the guy who was a friend of Jesus Christ and that when Lazarus died, Jesus went to his tomb, said a prayer and raised him from the dead. 

Now that was some kind of miracle but I am going to share another one with you today.

This is the true story of a pool player who by all accounts was done...kaput.  The story takes place at Rackateer's Sports Bar in New Orleans, Louisiana in the late 1900's.   The pool room was owned by Gerald Huber, the author of  "The Green Felt Jungle" and "Humphrey" (as the locals liked to call him) had these very large pool tournaments with huge Calcuttas (player auctions) and top players came from all over to play in his events. 

1995 U.S. Open 9 Ball Champion, Reed Pierce and winner of other notable tournaments such as the 1998 Camel Tour Kasson Open, and the 1994 PBT Dallas Open was entered in this tournament.  As I recall there was a full field of 128 players. BTW, Reed was also selected to represent the U.S. twice in the Mosconi Cup, in 1997 and 1998.

I had lived in Jackson, Mississippi from 1974 to 1980 and watched Reed grow into the player he had become and knew he was the real deal.  The hangout back then in Jackson was "The Office" and many a big dollar match was played on those bar tables.

Anyway, Reed is playing one of the top local players, a guy named Eddie Brown and Eddie has Reed's ears pinned back pretty good, leading Reed 8-4 in a race to 9.  At this time the tournament is about 3/4 finished and Reed was a favorite to win the event but is getting spanked by Eddie Brown.  Well Reed goes on a tear, and starts playing like the U.S. Open 9 Ball Champion that he is and winds up beating Eddie 9-8 for the match.  Reed basking in his strong comeback bellows, "How you like it New Orleans?.....THAT'S WHAT YOU CALL SEASONING!"   It was an exclamation that might have been made by anyone coming back from such a large deficit.  Well, that boast didn't sit too well with a lot of New Orleanians, but it was a hell of a come-back by Reed so you just have to sit there and let the champ have his moment.

The very next match Reed has a match with top veteran pool player by the name of Joe Villalpando.  Joe lived down in New Orleans for several years at this time and was one of our own by then.  Reed is stoked from his previous come-back win and is playing with confidence and bearing down on Joe V (yeah, that's what we called him down in New Orleans, other places called him Little Joe and probably a few other nicknames here and there).  Reed is now playing hard and has Joe V stuck 8 games to 3 games in a race to 9.  With Reed needing only 1 game for the match win, it wasn't looking very good for Joe V.

Joe V was a pal of mine and he and I used to hit the local tournament scene quite often.  We would  play in as many as 3 tournaments a week back then.  I would be Joe's chauffeur, confidant, and student, learning the ways of the pool world.  While I would do the driving, I also played in the tournaments just not as well as Joe but I was learning all of the time.

So back to the story.  Joe is standing next to me watching Reed playing like the champion that he was, giving Joe very little opportunity to get back to the table and Reed is up 8-3. 

Well Reed misses and leaves JoeV a few balls to run. Joe cleans up the table and makes the score 4-8 JoeV.

While I am not a tall guy, but Joe is REALLY SHORT and he is looking up at me and he says, "You know Joey, one time way back when, I was playing this real good player, and he had me stuck just like this and I came back to win the match."  By this time, Joe had to be in his 60's and Reed could easily have still been in his twenties.

I immediately locked on Joe's eyes (hoping to put my two years of psychology & hypnosis therapy to work) and said, "Joe, I KNOW that if anyone has a chance of doing this, YOU DO. Let's see what's going to happen!" 

The next game JoeV makes the nine on the break, now 5-8 JoeV.  The next game he breaks runs to the four ball and makes a 4-9 combo making it 6-8 Joe V. The pool room was full of electricity. I could feel it in the air through the high humidity that Louisiana pool rooms are known for.  The electricity was palpable, but it was the humidity that was making it difficult to make a ball on the break or even run out.  The electrical feeling was all over me and I wasn't even playing. The next game, Joe breaks and runs out the rack making it 7-8 JoeV. The swagger had suddenly left Reid as he realized that there was a chance that he might lose this match.  JoeV is wound up like a little short spring, shooting at everything and making almost every ball he shoots at.  Again, Joe doesn't make a ball on the break.  Reed comes to the table and again has a very tough out and can't get there so tries to lock JoeV up with a good safety which turned out to be a mediocre safety and Joe kicks the object ball in and ties the match up hill-hill (8-8) racing to 9.  Now the electricity has redoubled and everyone is in dead sweat, everyone's eyes are glazing, everyone's perspiring and the tables are soaking wet.  The players are soaked with the humidity and constantly wiping their cues down with dry towels.  The sweaters are perspiring but no one is leaving this match. I can't remember how the last match went except the last 4 balls that Joe made were excruciating for me. LOL

As the winning nine ball fell in the hole, I could not contain myself and yelled as loud as I could, "HOW YA LIKE IT MISSISSIPPI!"  The crowd went nuts.  My yell was a reflex, and I couldn't help myself. Even though Reed and I have always been cool with one another, he came unglued and started screaming and yelling that he wanted to play me for two thousand dollars and give me the 7 ball or for whatever I could come up with, and he said a few choice other words that sometimes happens when the rug is pulled out from under your feet but there was no amount of money that I could have won that day that could have taken the place of the feeling that I had when my buddy JoeV stopped Reed in his tracks. Reed had always been a MUCH better player than me or even JoeV, for that matter, but not THAT DAY.  It wasn't that I was happy that Reed lost. I was just so jazzed with what had just happened to my buddy JoeV that I couldn't hold it in. It was that day when JoeV earned the nickname "LAZARUS"for a come-back victory of extraordinary proportions. 


GET SOME, JOE V!  Ooo-rahhhhhhhh!  Happy Birthday my friend.

JoeyA
New Orleans

Posted 21st September 2016

 

Playing World Champion Niels Feijen (TERMINATOR)

Todays date is December 13, 2016.

This pool story starts back probably a dozen years ago or more.   I was practicing my craft (pocket billiards) at Pickle's Sports Bar in New Orleans (Metairie) which was almost directly across the street from the then fading but still infamous Sport Palace of New Orleans.  Both pool rooms were located on Jefferson Highway and just down the street from world famous Ochsner Hospital.  Players would bounce back and forth across the street depending upon where the action was.  Pickels Sports Bar would stay open as long as there was action. The Sport Palace was open24/7.

Pickle's Sports Bar was created by Mr. Bobby Gomez.  Bobby had been given the nickname "Pickle"  by  James Leone, famous owner of Buffalo Billiards which eventually had 3 locations, one in Chalmette, LA, one on Airline Drive in Metairie, LA  and another to be opened in just a few weeks from this date (12-13-16) just off of Clearview Avenue in Metairie, Louisiana.

Pickle had designed the poolroom floor with beautiful but gaudy Italian tile, a few sports televisions, and several high-quality Diamond pool tables.  I never liked that hard tile because if you knocked a ball off of the table, it would roll and bounce clear across the room. Most of the tables were tight pocketed 9-foot tables but as I recall, he had two 7-foot Diamond tables there as well.   Keith McCready and Scotty Townsend, tied it up on the 7 footers one year but that's another entirely different story. The 9-foot Diamond tables were the same tables that were used in Grady Mathews' World One Pocket Event held at the Belle of Baton Rouge Casino in 1999.  I enjoyed playing on table number 5 and was practicing that evening when a tall white male walked up on me out of the blue.  Normally, I would spot a new face walking into the poolroom, but I suppose this day I was too focused on my practice.  The stranger had apparently already asked around if there was  anyone to gamble with and came straight up to me.  He concisely and carefully chose his words and asked, "Would you like to gamble at 9 ball for $200.00? Normally, I would have liked to play one pocket, but since he was very direct about wanting to play 9 ball, I thought I would be a little cautious and crafty and replied, "You must be a very good player to want to play for $200 with an absolute stranger." (This guy looked like one of the East Germany athletes from back in the day, when there was a divided Germany.  Those men and women athletes of East Germany had that ripped muscle look combined with a Viking look if you know what I mean.  If not, you will just have to Google photos of East  German athletes.) Anyway, I continue and said, "I'll play you with the wild 6 ball", thinking that I would have a good chance against most anyone that wasn't a known champion with that spot.  He countered with, "That is a BIG SPOT.   I will give you  the wild 7 ball."  I had $200 of mad money and have always enjoyed playing unknown players who happen to pass through town so I told him that would be fine.   We agreed to a race to 9 games for the set and I started off like an Olympic sprinter.   The score was 6-2 my way and the tall, fit player walked up to me and said, "You play like a machine." I didn't know whether to laugh or to appreciate the compliment, not knowing whether it was intended as a genuine compliment to flatter me or to inflate my ego and throw me off of my game.  I was playing well and had a couple of fortunate rolls go my way and didn't give much thought to anything as I was sure I was going to win because I felt there was no way he could stop me with this big of a lead.  Those next minutes passed like a blur with me remembering very little as he chipped away at my lead.  Before I knew it, the set was over and the score was 9-7 Niels.  At the time, I didn't know his name was Niels and didn't know he was already a European phenom.  I paid off the $200 and somehow learned that he was traveling alone.  This thought stuck with me because I respect road players who travel by their lonesome.  It's a tough world out there on the road and most rely on having a wingman to help with all of the obstacles that one has to face when on the road. When he asked if I wanted to play another set, I didn't have to think long and quickly replied "No" as I had deduced in that blur of time when he won 7 games to my 1, that I was no match for this guy, whoever he was.  It would be another several months before I learned who he was and years later, I would learn that he went on to become one of the best pool players in the world.

A few years later, I would meet Niels again, at the Derby City Classic, one of America's premiere events.  Again, the discipline would be 9  ball.  I had the good fortune to exact my revenge on him.  I had improved my 9-ball game  by then, and was confident that I was playing better than the previous time we had met.  Niels won the lag and broke first.   He ran rack after rack. The score was 6-1 before I knew it and Niels broke the next rack and my legs by then were feeling cramped from sitting in the chair for so long, so when Niels was not facing me, I stood up to stretch my legs but otherwise I remained motionless.  When Niels turned around and saw me standing, he immediately came over to me and said, "Excuse me, would you mind sitting down? You are distracting me." That  statement kind of stunned me. Now keep in mind I NEVER shark my opponent by movement when I am not at the table and did not move when I was standing. But I acquiesced and sat down, after all, Niels was a world champion by then and I hold great respect for those who have given their all in pursuit of the pinnacle of this sport.

Niels went back to the table to complete a run out since he as usual, had made a ball on the break.  The one ball was still on the table, but he had a difficult shot and finally missed it, leaving me a tough shot on the one ball. I was lining up the difficult one ball shot that Niels had left me and was getting ready to address the cue ball, when I noticed Niels was cleaning his cue with a long, white towel, rubbing it vigorously up and down its vertical length.  To me, it was like waving a white flag at a bull. He was sitting in his chair but was directly in my line of vision for the one-ball shot.  I politely walked over to him as he had done to me and asked, "Niels, would you mind not waving that towel all around when I am at the table?"  His reply came forth as a protest and he forcefully replied, "WHAT,WHAT? IS THAT PAYBACK?". Now while I respect the professional players, this response didn't sit well with me and anyone who knows me, I won't let you cheat me or undermine my game while we are competing and if you try to talk a little smack to me, you are likely to get more than your share back.  If you do try either with me, you are guaranteed to get an earful no matter who you are.   It's just the way I am built. Since I considered this situation a lack of "quid pro quo", I didn't hesitate to give Niels what I thought he deserved.  After all, I had given Niels  the courtesy of sitting  down without  protesting when he asked me to because it was "distracting" him?  Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he chose to protest rather loudly I might add. So at this point, I quickly decided to demonstrate as I was talking to him at the same level of volume as he had responded to me. As I replied with additional fervor,  "NO NIELS, YOU ARE DISTRACTING ME! (With intentional flare, I demonstrated his vigorous movement with the towel so the rest of the audience could know what we were talking about) You can't be moving that towel around like that while I am shooting!."  To his credit, Niels voice dropped in volume, and he said "Okay" and that was the end of our discussion.  I went back to the table and made the difficult shot on the one ball and ran out the rack without missing a ball.  The next game I broke dry and Niels continued his professional form and terminated me 9-2.  I don't  remember having any chances after that dry break but at least I held up well enough to run out on that rack after the distraction from Niels.  

Pool is a difficult game to master and some games seem more difficult than others.  9 ball, you would think that it is an easy game since the rules tell you which ball you must shoot each time.  Sometimes, it is not so easy when you are playing a world champion.  Now many of us on this side of the pond think that One Pocket is the greatest game of all billiard games since it utilizes all of the skills that are found in all of the other pocket billiard games and more. This past Derby City Classic (2016)  Niels proved he is not just a great rotational player but has improved his skills at one pocket to world-class level as well, coming in second place in the enormous field of great players in the one pocket event. Word on the street, is that Niels has been receiving coaching advice from Alex Lely, former top professional European player, European Mosconi cup player & captain, Master Coach Dutch Olympic committee and National Coach of Niels Feijen.  I think American players like myself and others need more pocket billiard coaches.  So if you see Alex Lely around your neck of the woods, you might see about getting some coaching lessons.  I know I will jump at the opportunity if he passes my way. 

Niels' numerous titles go back quite a way, and I'm sure him being around coach Johan Ruijsink didn't hurt either.  Besides being on so many winning Mosconi Cup Teams and being voted MVP more often than not a few of  his FIRST PLACE TITLES are:

Mosconi Cup XXIII American 14.1 Championship 2016 Mosconi Cup 2015 Euro Tour Austria Open 2015 Euro Tour Italian Open  2015 World  9 Ball  Championship  2014 Mosconi  Cup 2014 Deurne  CC 9Ball 2014 Longoni Benelux Open  2014 Longoni Capelle Open2014 Mosconi Cup 2013 World Pool Masters  2013 Euro tour Austria Open 2013 Hanger Open 2013 Mosconi Cup 2012 Mosconi Cup 2011 Eurotour French Open 2010 Eurotour French Open 2009 Mosconi Cup 2008 World 14.1 Championship 2008 Euro tour Costa del Sol Open 2008 Blackpool Open 2008 Challenge of Champions 2007 Mosconi Cup 2007 Derby City Classic 9 Ball Division 2007  Blaze Tour  #24 2007 Big Apple 9-Ball Chall. 2005 Viking Tour Nat'l Championship 2005 PP Tour  #3 Open Div.2005 Skins Billiard Championship 2004 Niels Feijen's other high finishes in tournaments around the world are far too numerous to mention. You have to admit that is a pretty sporty resume. Joey Aguzin 12-13-16

 

THE AMAZING & VERSATILE ENTRENCHING TOOL

                

Most of my time was spent patrolling around LZ Ross or LZ Baldy while in Vietnam.  I was with the Marine Corps, Lima 3/7 in 1970 and my squad spent almost all of our time on patrols.  If you were in the rear at the LZ for any reason other than to recuperate from patrols, you almost always had night guard duty, and I really hated that.  Squinting through those ghost-like, green, night-vision goggles was pure torture for me and I just couldn't stand being on night guard duty.  So if you got sick out on patrol or even medevac'd to the rear and weren't almost dead, you had to stand guard duty at night. 

Early on in my tour of duty one evening out in the field, I am preparing my sleeping quarters for the night which consisted of a heavy-duty dark green poncho for a roof, held up by four freshly cut bamboo sticks.   I normally used my entrenching tool to dig fox holes but that particular evening I got the bright idea of using my entrenching tool as an ax since I didn't carry a hatchet with me and was wearing out some fresh bamboo stalks by bending the bamboo stalks to the ground and holding them down with one foot and balancing with the other foot.  As I got to the fourth and last stick, I increased my adrenaline to finish the job and pounded the bamboo hard with my entrenching tool which was barely sharp enough to cut dirt,  but on  the last hit, it came bouncing off that last bamboo stick right into my shin bone.   We were out in an area where the enemy could hear us and so I crumpled to the ground, grabbing my injured leg.  As I went to the ground, I stifled a banshee-like scream and groaned and moaned very earnestly for about 5 minutes.   After about 10 minutes, the pain had subsided a bit so I didn’t want to call the Corpsman partly out of embarrassment but mainly because I didn't want to be medevac'd for such a silly mistake and hoped that I would be fine.  After all it was just a little pain. (Uggh, I can almost feel it today which is December 14, 2016) Still, I managed to fall asleep somehow.

We were physically fit, but it seemed like I was always tired.  Being stressed out 24 hours a day can do that to you.  We ate the best C-Rations the government could buy so I was never hungry, and they provided energy for our job.   The next morning, I woke very quickly, wincing in pain as I tried to stand but was unable to do so.   I sat back down and reluctantly told my buddy to send the Corpsman over to me because I knew I couldn’t endure this much longer. As I waited for the Corpsman, all I could think about was that we had been out on patrol for 13 days and we were going back to the LZ the following day.  If I got medevac'd back right then, they would have me standing wretched guard at night and I truly despised that.  As the Corpsman raised my baggy camouflaged pants leg, I saw what was causing my pain.  The entrenching too, while it had not caused a lot of bleeding, it had made a small dent in my shin bone and now my lower leg was twice its normal diameter.  Infection had set in the Corpsman recommended medevac, but I told him I won’t go, and he had to do whatever he had to do to allow me to stay in the field one more day so that I wouldn’t have to stand guard duty when I got back to the rear.  So he gave me what I think was a penicillin shot for the infection and a very weak pain pill but it helped me to stay out for that one extra day so that I could enjoy my rest back at the LZ without doing that despicable guard duty at night.  And that's how the entrenching tool lost me as a friend.  

Posted 14th December 2016

 

Dec

24

My Best Story of Scotty Townsend

MY BEST STORY OF SCOTTY TOWNSEND.

There are many stories about Scotty as most of you already know and they were some of the most interesting stories any of us ever heard.  Scotty died in a motorcycle accident on December 22, 2016.  I should have written this story long ago because I have always felt that we should honor those we care about while they are still alive.  I’ve always spoke well of Scotty and I can honestly say that we were friends.  He and I talked on the phone often about our families and the struggles that we all face.  He was candid about his life and he was interested in how you were doing, and always ready to lend a kind word or share a joke.  So I hope that Scotty’s family and many friends look upon this story and see the giant that he was to so many of us. 

Scotty and I had many battles on the pool table, and I occasionally tossed back a few beers with him wherever we met.  He was a fun guy to be around, and his stories entertained everyone who heard them or who was a part of them.

This particular story takes place in Mobile, Alabama at Breaker’s Billiards in the early 2000’s.  There used to be an annual tournament in August and as I recall Scotty was often in attendance.  This year Scotty was tossing back a few stiff drinks as he was known to do but even with a regular habit of drinking alcohol, he never went looking for trouble but you knew that he wouldn’t back down from it, if it came his way.

What is special about this story is what it says about the real man that some of us had the honor of knowing.

By this time, I had gotten to know Scotty fairly well as he always sought me out to play some 9 ball, giving me the 5 ball and winning most of the time.  I was awestruck of Scotty’s wardrobe for this event.  He wore his cowboy hat, cowboy boots, cowboy shirt, personal handmade necklace and a pair of plaid short pants; a combination that was hard to not smile at.  Well, Scotty is having a conversation with another fellow who is dressed up real sharp, expensive clothes, gold jewelry, fancy watch etc.  The guy has his girlfriend with him, and she is kind of hot and the guy is trying to impress Scotty with drinking, telling stories but ultimately trying to impress his girlfriend.  I am about 5 feet away and trying to listen to the conversation because if you know Scotty, it was almost always a great conversation. 

Anyway, I’m listening and creeping closer and closer trying not to miss any of the conversation and the place is kind of noisy, but I am hearing most of what is being said.  I decided to not say anything or interject myself into the conversation but Scotty had given me “the nod” and with his unspoken permission I crept in closer to listen.  I finally realized that the well-dressed dude does not know who Scotty is but is having an animated discussion with him about everything under the sun.  Both of them had a few drinks while I listened, and the guy was REALLY trying to impress his girlfriend and Scotty was amused and participated in listening to the dude’s braggadocio.  The guy told Scotty that he was going to do some gambling with Scotty, threatening to play for a hundred a game.  It was obvious that the dude couldn’t play pool at a very high level and that he was really trying to (and failing) to impress his girlfriend and anyone else who might be listening or passing by.  As the minutes wore on, the guy started making disrespectful remarks about Scotty’s attire.  Scotty just smiled and when the guy was looking at his girlfriend, Scotty would look my way and wink.  I was thoroughly satisfied to wait this out without interfering.  Scotty knew his way around a bar and a pool room, and I doubt he ever met anyone that he truly feared.  What I really started to like is that it was obvious that the dude was getting drunk and starting to talk belligerently but Scotty wasn’t taking offense and had his own style of banter which seemed to compliment the conversation.  Scotty could take as good as he got so I was just there to be entertained and Scotty just kept listening to this guy talk about how he was going to take Scotty’s money on the pool table and much, much more.  Some of the guy’s jabs were personal and I just didn’t know how Scotty would respond.  I genuinely feared for the guy’s safety as he was his own worst enemy.  Scotty just smiled and drank some more and listened and shot back a few of his own retorts.  I thought I was watching a movie set and was wondering what was going to happen next.  In fact, I was wondering when Scotty was going to have enough of this guy’s lip and rip into him as the dude kept getting more and more out of line as he consumed more alcohol.  Scotty kept drinking but never got angry or even tried to embarrass the dude in front of his girlfriend.  Scotty knew what the guy was trying to do, and it was okay with Scotty, plaid short pants and feather sticking out of his cowboy hat.  This must have gone on for close to an hour and I was wondering how it was going to end and hoped that Scotty wouldn’t retaliate and hurt the guy, but the dude just kept on and on.  Finally, the dude tells Scotty.  “You know I was going to play you some $100 nine ball but the more I think about it, the more I think I would just like to take you out in the parking lot and whip your ass.”  Scotty grinned wildly at the guy and responded back, “You’d have a better chance at beating me at pool than whipping my ass in that parking lot.”.  It was a statement made in humor more than an attempt to get under the other guy’s skin but the dude saw that there was something inside of that unique looking guy’s persona that made him reluctant to give Scotty any more shit.  Scotty had every right to be steamed with this guy and every right to call the dude outside but Scotty used his humor and confidence to assuage this surly guy’s attitude without provoking the situation.  Most men would have asked the dude to go outside long ago or at least embarrassed him in front of his girlfriend or just cracked his jaw on the spot, but Scotty showed me another part of his personality and that was the day he really became a giant in my eyes.

JoeyA 12-24-16 

 

A Cue of Extraordinary Proportions.

A Cue of Extraordinary Proportions.

Some of you know me as JoeyA.  I started calling myself JoeyA decades ago because it seemed like my last name “Aguzin” is seldom pronounced the same way by two different people.  It can be a bit of a distraction when the tournament Calcutta is held up because Augustino, Aaahguzine, or A-Goo-Zin doesn’t answer when his name is called.  I enjoy competing in regional and national pool tournaments and on occasion like to sit behind the mic to do pool commentary when I am not competing or hanging out with friends.  The writing is a kind of therapy for me, so every now and then I enjoy sharing some of my pool adventures with my friends on Internet forums, on my blog or in an occasional magazine like AZ Billiards Buzz magazine.  I hope you enjoy the article and please say hello when I pass through your town or when we meet at the next pool tournament.

Well, this past weekend (April 22-23, 2017) my son, good friend “Doc Hutch” and I went to the White Diamond Super 9 Ball event.  It is a premiere weekend bar table event that draws players from all over the world.  It is held twice a year, once in the Spring and once in the late fall.  Here in Louisiana, it gets hot during the summer months, so they try to have the bi-annual event when it is a little cooler. 

Their tournaments have Calcuttas (player auctions) which regularly climb to the $100,000.00 range, so you can understand how they regularly get 128 players which is where they cap the event.

This event was shaping up with so many great players, that we knew we would be having a great time just like we always do.  The three of us are amateurs but enjoy testing ourselves against the best players in the world and they all come to Lafayette, LA which is in the heart of Cajun Country.

I could talk about how good my draw was, my good fortune of beating one of the top pros in this event, my mediocre finish in the top 30 players of this event, my mixed play, the good times with family and friends, the tasty food or the fact that I haven’t cashed in this event in the last several events but what this story is really all about is about a trend that I have been witnessing for the last decade or so. 

This story is about how cue sticks have been changing for the better.  I’ve been playing with a DymondWood “low-deflection” cue for the last few years.  DymondWood is a laminated wood that is impregnated with a phenolic resin and it creates what I refer to as a synthetic wood.  The only problem with DymondWood is that it is very hard to work with when you’re trying to create a low deflection playing cue.  Quite a few cue makers have successfully made break cues and jump cues out of DymondWood but relatively few have tried to make low deflection cues out of this wood because it is so difficult to work with.  I have paid attention to the many distinct types of cues that have been developed over the years by different companies, and it seems that innovation is everywhere.  It also appears that more companies are creating cues using synthetic materials than ever before.

This past tournament I was having a wonderful time competing and won a couple of matches and lost a couple of close matches.  But in between all the competing, I am sweating a scotch-doubles partners game between some of the young, talented, up-and-coming players that have popped up on the pool scene in recent years.  I know most of the players because I have been fortunate enough to be around them at other events in the past, sometimes doing commentary for their matches or getting steep handicaps in friendly action matches with them. 

One of the guys playing is someone who I have had the good fortune of being around quite a bit since he lived in my hometown of New Orleans for a brief time and is a talented player by the name of Evan Lunda.  I met Evan Lunda in New Orleans a few years ago and at the time he was playing with a low-deflection DymondWood cue so I was very familiar with his game.  His prototype cue was made by Steve Titus, one of the founding creators of Predator Cues.  This time I see him with a Steve Titus cue, but it looks different this time.  From a distance, it looked like it was one of the darker DymondWood shafts but it looked a little different and I couldn’t really tell if it was DymondWood or something else. 

So, I’m in between matches watching four pro players playing a scotch doubles match of one pocket.  The players are Evan Lunda, Skylar Woodward, Billy Thorpe and Alex Olinger, names that most of you are very familiar with since their names are often seen at the top of the food chain in tournaments all over the country.  A month ago, in another big one-pocket event (The Scotty Townsend Memorial Event) at The Arena in West Monroe, Evan Lunda came in third place just behind Billy Thorpe and Shane Van Boening.  It was a $2,000 entry fee one pocket event with some of the best players in the world competing for nice prize money and Calcutta money. 

Evan’s game had changed rather dramatically since I had last seen him and I now started to really wonder if he had a new cue.  Listening on the sidelines, I heard that it was indeed a new cue for Evan.  Later I discovered that he had only been playing with his new cue for a few short months, but I could tell that he was dialed into its properties.  While I don’t have any scientific data to share about how the cue performs, I can tell you from an experienced player’s viewpoint, the cue is TOP SHELF.

When the four pro players started playing with the cue I heard one of them whine teasingly that the cue imparts English so easily that you can get “TOO MUCH” throw on the object ball.  It could have just been a warning to the others or some gamesmanship as I perceived it to be a teasing whine.  But as the minutes wore on, I saw their reluctance to give the cue its just due, change to an almost euphoric type of experience as each of the pros took turns demonstrating their prowess at the table.  It started right away; multiple rail banks, 80-90 degree cuts, kick shots, and shots of all types, they seemed to make more of them than was usual.  Now I know just like the rest of you that these pros can play with just about any cue but what they were doing “CONSISTENTLY’ was pocketing difficult shots and getting shape shot after shot.  Each successful shot seemed to fuel the fire in each of the other players and using the same cue.  I never could decide who was having the most fun because all of them were stoked, sometimes glassy-eyed and each of them were letting out their stroke with 3, 4 and yes, FIVE-railers being made with ever-increasing consistency.  Safeties were not allowed in these games, so the governors had been removed, and all hell broke loose.  The four of them were reveling when each of them would make a difficult shot, teasing each other when they came close but missed and in general were having a wonderful time.

When one of their innings was over, they would pass Evan’s cue to the next person.  This went on for over an hour.  Now everyone enjoys testing out a friend’s cue but most of the time it is returned to the owner rather quickly.  As I watch these young pro players make difficult shot after difficult shot, I realized that this is something unique that was taking place.   I’ve seen my share of high-level play sometimes competing against the best players in the world in tournaments or just sitting in the commentator’s box, talking with the likes of Billy Incardona and legends like Jeremy Jones.  I had happily settled into one of the spectator chairs since seating was limited because of the substantial number of attendees.  The spectators, (me included) were just in awe of their raw firepower and high-level play but what I really liked was the fact that none of them wanted to give up the cue, so they all shared this one cue for over an hour.  That alone is a good enough testimony that my observations weren’t out of line.

The impromptu Scotch Doubles match eventually came to an end, and I got a chance to renew my acquaintance with Evan and talk with him about his cue.  It turns out that it wasn’t a DymondWood shaft like what Evan has been playing with in the past but a Revo shaft made by Predator.  Previously, I had played with a Revo cue that had a 12.9mm shaft and while it was nice, I have always preferred a narrower shaft than that.  Evan’s shaft looked to be a smaller diameter than 12.9 and it was.  The butt of the cue had been made by his friend, Steve Titus.  BTW, if some of you don’t know this, Steve is an accomplished player in his own right and is always inventing something new for the pool world whether you are familiar with his name or not.

Now some of you may not know that I am a serious student of the game and of equipment.  I teach pool at a couple of pool rooms around New Orleans and enjoy learning about all aspects of pool.  In addition to taking pool lessons from professional pool players and professional cueing instructors, I pay attention to what equipment the best players are using, and I ask a lot of questions, mostly about performance because I have always placed performance above style and novelty.   I test cues with a variety of different shots to compare their performance to my equipment.  It is seldom that I ever come across something that is better than what I am currently using but I knew right then and there, that this cue deserved a closer look and hoped that I would get a chance to investigate further.

As luck would have it, a few days later Evan shows up at my home room, Buffalo’s on Bloomfield in New Orleans.  Evan knows the passion I have for the game of pool itself and how I love to test new equipment so he generously shared his cue with me for more than an hour.  He just left the cue with me and said he would be back later.  I could tell immediately that this cue had a certain “power” to it.  I’m not talking about anything from the metaphysical realm.  I’m saying that his cue was easier to play with, easier to draw the cue ball, easier to apply force-follow and yes, easier to pocket the object balls.  It also seemed like it was easier to obtain precise shape as well.  I know it sounds funny but I even found myself keeping my body and head more still than normal.  It could have been that I didn’t have to put as much effort into making the shots.  The table conditions were perfect so that could have a little something to do with it as well.  We all know about the “new cue syndrome” but this wasn’t it either.  When Evan returned, he also took the time to demonstrate some of the more difficult shots that are possible with the REVO cue showcasing his immense talent. 

When Evan separated the shaft from the butt of the cue, he rolled the shaft across the table and as I lowered my head to observe the light under the shaft’s taper, I marveled at the extreme precision of the taper.  It was the most precise taper I have ever seen in any cue shaft.  Evan’s unique cue shaft had no ferrule and was charcoal black in color which provided a great contrast against the cue ball and the blue cloth.  As always, his tip was perfectly shaped.

The table conditions are very good at Buff’s NEW PLACE located at 5015 Bloomfield-New Orleans, Louisiana, especially since all of their Diamond pool tables are being recovered for their BIG MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT EVENT, which is coming up in just a few short weeks but I was making incredible shots, drawing my cue ball effortlessly and just had the time of my life playing with his REVO cue. 

Predator currently makes a 12.4 mm shaft and a 12.9 mm shaft using uni-loc and radial pin joints.   I have a marked propensity toward slightly thinner shafts like a 12mm but I don’t know if Predator will be making a REVO shaft that thin or not.   I also like a 30” length shaft and a 3/8-10 modified pin, but that isn’t something that they offer right now. Hopefully, as these cues and shafts that are made with synthetic materials become more exposed to the pool world, we will see my prediction that we are entering a golden era in cue building where science allows cue builders to continue to expand the use of these new materials. 

It took golf many decades to make the transition from wooden clubs to high-tech metal clubs, but I suspect pool will move along a lot quicker with young ambassadors like Evan Lunda and Predator Cues leading the way into the future of pool.  I also surmise that some of the other professional players will be giving the nod toward this cue.  Our own local pro, Ronnie Wiseman gave me the “WiseMan Nod” when I asked how he liked Evan’s cue.  That says a lot coming from the WiseMan.  Anyway, it was a pleasure to see professional players enjoying some of the newer cue technology that is becoming more popular with players every day.

Joey (JoeyA) Aguzin