Jerry W. Briesath and EYE PATTERNS

 

Jerry W. Briesath and EYE PATTERNS

Jerry’s name was not unfamiliar to me as I had heard his name mentioned many times on AZ Billiards.com but I had never met him in person.  It was reported that he was one of the earliest pocket billiard instructors.  I had heard he was a 100-ball runner in straight pool which is quite an accomplishment.  Making 100 balls without missing is no easy task, just try it sometime if you like.  I tried it a couple of times in the early 2000’s and was unable to run more than 44 balls. I also heard from many great players that 14.1 (straight pool) would help all of your other games, but here in the Deep South, it is hardly ever played.

About 20 years ago, I made a trip to the Derby City Classic, an annual event made famous by Greg Sullivan, a Marine and Vietnam veteran, and an accomplished pool player and action player.  I had trained very hard to hone my skills at one pocket, my favorite game to play, and had dedicated 4 hours per day, practicing for an entire month not missing a day much to my wife’s chagrin.  The practice had paid off handsomely and I was in rare form, seldom missing a shot and making few mistakes.  I had signed up to play in the main one-pocket event and couldn’t wait to see how I would perform as I felt well-prepared. 

My first match was an awful experience, losing quickly to a player unknown to me.  That just meant that I didn’t think he was a high-level player. Suddenly, I had gone from this confident, straight-shooting player to a scared, whipped puppy of a pool player.   Now I had traveled from New Orleans to Louisville, Kentucky to play in this annual event and I was not going to let one bad match keep me down.  Stoically, I faced my next opponent, only to lose that match in a similar fashion, losing a little slower than the first match, but losing, nevertheless.  My nerves were shot, it was almost like I had forgotten how to play pool.  Despite playing a conservative game, my opponent beat me senselessly, and I was beside myself.  I don’t remember my opponents playing exceptionally well and could only think about my dismal performance after training so hard.

The one-pocket event starts on Sunday and the finals match is usually on Thursday.  I hung around watching other matches that were going on around the clock, feeling miserable, but unable to come to grips with what had happened.  I had played in many big one-pocket events over the years and had beaten some of the best one-pocket players in the world in tournament competitions, so I knew that while I couldn’t beat the elite players day in and day out, in tournament play, I could represent quite well.

AZ Billiards had a private room at this event and there were two Diamond 7 Foot Pool tables in them.  Thursday night I walked in the room only to see Jerry Briesath hanging out, socializing with other pool players.  I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, still beating myself up for my poor play.  The place thinned out and Jerry had taken a seat, so I walked over to say hello and introduce myself.  While I had already taken dozens of pool lessons from professional players at this time, I was not all that keen on taking pool lessons from someone who could not consistently demonstrate what they were teaching.  I had heard that Jerry’s days of competition were already behind him, so I had never seen him shoot one shot and I was reluctant to ask him for any advice but the smart guy who sometimes lives inside of me put his pride and ignorance aside.  I told Jerry that I had practiced 4 hours per day for 30 days straight and was playing some of the best pool I had ever played and that I had gone two and out in the main one-pocket event.  My level of play for the event was far below my average level of play.   It is generally accepted that we play at our best only 1/3 of the time, our average play 1/3 of the time and our worst 1/3 of the time, but having trained so hard, I found it unbelievable that I played so poorly.  I decided to go straight at Jerry and asked him, “If I give you a hundred dollars, do you think you can tell me what’s wrong with my game?”  He replied that he would give it a try and asked me to start shooting and he would watch.  I shot FOUR SHOTS, and Jerry promptly said, “I think I know why you are playing so poorly.”  At that moment, my heart sank because I could not believe that someone could watch me shoot 4 shots and that they would know why I was playing so poorly.  I had wasted a C Note before, taking pool lessons from pro players who did not know how to teach but knew how to play and had gotten little in return.  Since I had committed to giving Jerry a hundred dollars, the smart guy who sometimes lives inside of me told me to shut off those negative thoughts and listen to what the man had to say.  Reluctantly, I asked him to explain what I was doing wrong.  He replied that he thought my eye patterns were off.  At this time, I had not paid much attention to eye patterns but listened intently to what he had to say about them.  Not only did he suggest particular eye patterns for me to try but he also explained WHY eye patterns were so important.  In less than 10 minutes of practicing eye patterns, all of a sudden, I was back in stroke, making shot after shot, seldom ever missing.  It was exhilarating, to say the least.  My brief sorrow was suddenly replaced with this unbridled confidence that comes when you receive an epiphany in your pool journey.  I reached in my wallet, retrieved the hundred-dollar bill and graciously thanked Jerry for his advice.  I’ve never been one to celebrate openly but I was thrilled inside at what I had learned.

It was getting late, but I watched a couple of more matches and finally went to sleep at around 3:00 am, which is much later than I usually go to bed.  I took a shower but the excitement that was burning inside of me kept me from going to sleep right away but I was happy to think about the future of playing pool with this new knowledge.

Friday nights, the Derby City Classic has a MIDNIGHT mini-one pocket event, where they only allow a maximum of 32 players to play, and I had already purchased one of the tickets to play in that event.  It would be a race to 2 games, single elimination.   I had no idea who had purchased tickets to play in this event and it didn’t matter if I won a match or two or not as I had a new weapon to utilize and was stoked.  Since I hadn’t slept much on Thursday night and early Friday morning, I decided I would do what many pool players do; sleep all day Friday and get up from bed in the late evening to go play pool. 

All day Friday, I lay in my bed, and it seemed like I was thinking all day long, but I made sure to keep my eyes closed even if I didn’t think I was getting good rest.  I had set the alarm for 5:00 pm and as it rang, I woke quickly, refreshed, and excited about the opportunity to play in another pool event.  I was quite hungry, so I ate a hearty breakfast meal.  While eating, I started thinking about my so-called epiphany and new weapon hoping that it was not a mirage that would dissipate as the evening wore on, so I found the nearest open table to try out my new technique, and low and behold, I was still playing at my best.  This just excited me even more and I had to remind myself not to get too excited because there would be a lot of top players in this event to challenge me, and while I needed to be confident, I needed to be poised and focused, not just excited to play my best pool.

My first match was against a top player named Chris Szuter.  At the time, I did not know that Chris had beaten many legendary players on his journey and maybe it was for the best.  I settled in and won the opportunity to break first and made a great break with Chris unable to get out of my break.  I won the first game 8-4 and the second game 8-5.  Afterward, Chris who was upset; he asked me if I gambled and I replied that I did but I was playing in this tournament.  He walked off in a huff, but I can understand why.  I wasn’t a known player, and I was fortunate to have beaten him.

My next match was against someone, and I never could remember his name or face to this day.  I won that match handily 2-0.

My third match was against the great Jose Parica.  His reputation was known far and wide as he was one of the first Filipinos to arrive in America and had beaten many elite players not only in tournament play but in gambling matches as well.  I calmed myself and continued playing well, winning 8-3 and 8-2.  Sometimes, you play well, and sometimes you get good rolls.  I got both that match.

With a 32-player field and single elimination, you only need to win 4 matches in a row.  I had already won 3 matches in a row.  Now it was 6:00 am and my next opponent was another top player and close pool friend of World Champion Johnny Archer.  His name was Shawn Putnam who is not only a top pool player but an accomplished cue maker as well.  Shawn saw how well I was playing, and the night was already over and the morning sun was getting ready to rise.  I still felt good because I had slept all day Friday and was ready for the finals match of the event.  Shawn must have been up all-day Friday and may have been feeling a bit tired and walked up to me and asked, “Joey, do you want to split first and second place money?”  His question caught me by surprise, but I know what it is like to run out of steam and I told him I would split first and second place money with him on one condition.  His eyes narrowed, probably wondering if I had a trick up my sleeve, and said, “What’s that condition?”  I replied that I would split first and second place money with him if he tried his very best and if I thought he didn’t try his very best, I could decide not to split the money with him.  His eyes widened, he smiled, and exclaimed as he shook my hand, “I’m going to get a Red Bull and whip your ass.”  I went to the restroom, and washed my hands, face, and neck with cool water still feeling good.  In the first game I won 8-4.  The next game Shawn won 8-5.  In the third game, I won 8-3 and won the Midnight Mini-One Pocket event.  What a turnaround!

Today is March 5, 2025, and it just so happens to be Jerry W. Briesath’s birthday.  It is purely coincidental that I write this story today.  Jerry, sorry it took so long to get around to writing this story, but I have never forgotten that important lesson you shared with me, and I will be eternally grateful.  I hope you have a wonderful birthday and many more.  If any of you know Jerry, please share this story with him.

Semper Fidelis,

JoeyA

 

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.
it
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