The year was 1964 and I was 14 years old. My parents couldn't afford an allowance so I had to earn my spending money and did so by selling concessions at football games, seat-to-seat, at Tad Gormley Stadium, otherwise known as City Park Stadium back in the day. Back then there were no beer sales allowed at these games. Most of the football games were high school teams and I suppose it was a good idea that alcohol wasn't sold. My specialty was Barq's Root Beer, although from time to time, I would also sell peanuts or popcorn but I sold a lot of Barq's Root Beer back then. Barq's was a popular, locally created soft drink and they were sold in heavy, glass bottles. Interestingly enough you seldom saw broken bottles anywhere. And if you were a real hustler, you would scavenge the empty bottles to return them to the local grocer for a handsome price of $.02 each. This was back when they paid you to recycle.
The bottle soft drinks were heavy and were carried in a wire basket which had the ability to carry 6 bottles at a time. I carried one basket in each hand and quickly found out that the people didn't like drinking lukewarm soft drinks and they would let you know it, sometimes after you had already opened the bottle for them. The football crowd tended to be much older teenagers than myself and were quite boisterous even without alcohol but I can't remember seeing an actual fights at any of the games. I didn't get rich selling soft drinks but I was able to sell more soft drinks than the other men and boys by heaping large amounts of chipped ice on top of the already soft drink filled baskets. I would walk up and down the stadium aisles, shrieking, "Soft drinks here, get your ICE-COLD soft drinks here!" A flash of the ice-covered wire baskets would often spur even the not-so-thirsty attendees into purchasing a Barq's Root Beer. Sure the baskets were heavy to begin with and the ice just made them heavier but when you need and want to make a dollar, you did what was necessary. It wasn't only young boys like myself that sold the soft drinks either. Older men, past their prime with no particular job skills and no retirement could sometimes be seen selling soft drinks as these games. Some of the men were older than my dad who at that time was already 57 years old, having married when he was 43.
The concession stand manager asked me if I wanted to work a concert coming up and I quickly agreed thinking about the many people who would be attending. The concert just happened to be the new musical sensation from the other side of the pond, called The Beatles. The day of the concert was September 16th, 1964 and as I contemplated the large amounts of money I would be making, I had already started thinking about the girls at 14 years of age. I didn't really know much about them but it was apparent that I was attracted to the opposite sex at an early age and figured that this would be a good place to see and meet some of them. I hadn't really bought into the Beatles new music but it seemed pleasant enough to me. There long hair kind of turned me off. I came from a family who frowned on long hair, at least none of my brothers had what I considered long hair nor did any of my school mates. I thought The Beatles long hair, kind of made them look like girls and I think that kind of turned me off from liking them early on, because I hadn't bought into the long hair thing just yet. Anyway, I arrive at the stadium, early as usual, eager to make some good money. Tips were rare back then but some people did give you a nickel or dime tip every now and then but for the most part, tipping was rare. I guess money was a little harder to come by back then.
It didn't take me long to see that this concert wasn't the optimum conditions. The stage was seated at the South end of the stadium. The concessions headquarters was at the North end of the stadium and that made for a long walk to where the customers were located. Sure, it was September and this is an outside stadium in New Orleans and it was HOT, almost always hot even at the night games which is what I worked mostly. The crowds came early and I sold a couple of baskets of soft drinks but it soon became apparent that these people weren't in a soft drinking kind of mind. Their minds were fixated on The Beatles and concession vendors were an annoyance. Trying to pitch "Soft drinks here, get your ICE-COLD soft drinks here", against "I Want To Hold Your Hand!" was futile so I sold my last remaining drinks and returned the wire baskets and decided to listen to the concert. Now like I said earlier, I liked their music but at this early time (for me) I hadn't completely fell in love with their music, after all, who could stomach that long hair on men? Well the girls and women that were at this concert didn't just like The Beatles; they didn't just LOVE The Beatles, hell, they practically swooned over every chorus of every song. That long hair didn't seem to turn off the girls for sure. I had never seen females behave this way. The closest I ever saw females acting like this was when Elvis Presley would come on the old black and white television we had at home and even then, the girls and women would kind of restrain their ecstasy but that wasn't happening at this concert, no way.
I quickly concluded that the girls were not only not interested in holding my hand but they were revolted by the soft drink pitch. The long hair on The Beatles coupled with the new style of music that they played had a violent addictive effect upon practical every female in the stadium and even some of the guys. The girls would swoon from time to time and sometimes rush the stadium, only to bet met by dozens of blue coats linked arm and arm together, preventing anyone from reaching the stage. Other police officers and medical personnel made steady work by carrying off girls and women who had fainted and fallen to the ground. It was a spectacle for sure and while I enjoyed the music, I wanted a souvenir and Ring Starr was my favorite Beatle, so that was when I devised THE PLAN. I saw that the stage was well fortified on the West side but was practically void of policemen on the North side. I was standing at the North end of the stadium when I decided that this was my day of infamy and I would make a bold plan to snatch the drum sticks that Ringo played with, right from his hands. I mean I was smarter and faster than any of those policemen down there and I had a plan. I wasn't some delirious, swooning teenager and was more of a soldier of fortune, knowing that those drum sticks would be worth mucho dinero.
So now I'm estimating how long it would take me to run the 70 yards I had estimated to reach the edge of the stage. The stage was rather high, about 6 feet high but I had deemed quite accessible from the North, especially since it was't fortified by any police. This plan was concocted in a minute or two and immediately put to work. As I took off running at a comfortable pace, not wanting to expend too much energy in getting to the stage because I needed to catapult myself to the top of the stage, which I felt I could comfortably do. My body was light in weight and my feet moved like the Greek messenger of the gods, Mercury, or so I thought. As I closed the distance between me and the stage, the adrenaline was kicking in and I knew I had plenty of energy left to make the catapult so I urged my muscles to move even faster. My plan was simple, get on the stage, snatch the drum sticks from Ringo's hands and be gone just as fast as I arrived. That was it....nothing beyond that. What did you expect from a 14 year old? Anyways, my legs are moving as fast as I have ever run and I am maybe 15 yards from the stage ready to make my leap and catapult. I'm looking side to side and in the front of me, there are no obstacles (no police), I go even faster, when suddenly I am knocked to the ground. I didn't realize what had happened to me until the police officer twisted my hands behind my back, lifted me to my feet and was scolding me with some harsh language, telling me that I was going to JAIL. My face had grass and dirt on it and my skin had a slight brush burn in a couple of places but I was fine other than that. I immediately went into a wail that I worked at the stadium selling concessions and that I didn't want to go to JAIL. Being incarcerated terrified me as a child, not that I feared closed in places but jail was a place a 14 year old boy didn't want to go. I didn't know much about the juvenile facilities either but I knew I didn't want to go to JAIL. So after a very serious scolding, they made me promise not to try that again. The music didn't have exactly the same attraction as it did earlier, the girls didn't look as pretty as they once did, faces all contorted with emotion that was hard to believe, so I finished listening to The Beatles, at quite a distance from any police officer and finished the concert on a relatively low note. No drum sticks from Ringo Starr, no girl friends for me to hold their hand and no profits from selling Barq's Root Beer.
Yeah, I know it was a bummer but today is September 12, 2014 and WYES (a PBS television station) has a concert scheduled for September 16, 2014 by the FAB FOUR, the California-based BEATLES tribute band who have toured the world, singing the signature songs that made The Beatles arguably, the greatest band of all time.
My wife decided that she didn't want to go but I have a couple of tickets for this WYES sponsored concert and will be going to relive my youth if only for an hour and half.
If you see me on the news next Tuesday night, handcuffed and looking a bit disheveled, don't worry too much about me, just come visit me in JAIL and make sure the police didn't take the drum sticks that I stole from Luis Renteria, who plays the drums as Ring Starr.
JoeyA
Friday, September 12, 2014
THE BEATLES
Monday, July 14, 2014
Maybe the best pool I have ever played.
07.14.14
Most everyone knows that I really enjoy one pocket, which is almost always played on a 9 foot table. In recent months I have taken to trying to improve my level of play on bar tables. At my age, bar tables are probably my best opportunity to compete. There's a lot to be said for bar tables, especially if you get used to playing on them.
On one magical evening in the heat of a Louisiana Sauna Summer, I was playing at the magnificent Lacy's Cue pool room (non-smoking) in Chalmette, Louisiana. While there were probably only twenty something players, the field was full of Champions and it was a Thursday night pool tournament on the bar boxes. Names like Cliff "Lemme hold a hundy" Joyner, Jamie "Progeny of Pool" Baraks, Jamie "The Red Rifle" Ferrell, Ronnie "The Wiseman" Wiseman, Trey Baker, Benny "the Goose" Conway, Jr, Stoney "StoneWall" Stone to name a few; showed up for the weekly $500 added, NON-HANDICAPPED event.
The pool room owner has this weekly tournament and the races are to 5 on both sides of the brackets. Everyone knows that the better players are most often going to win on big tables or small tables as evidenced by the results in most pool room events no matter what the race to.
My first match I can't even remember who I played but I know I won but after that, I found myself facing the formidable "WISEMAN" and down 4-2 from his wise play. Somehow I managed to get back to 4-4 and was breaking. I broke very well using a new cut break that I have been recently employing on the bar boxes when playing 9 ball. I made a ball on the break and with the balls spread really well, was able to finish the rack and win the match. Ronnie, the good sportsman that he is, laughed heartily and congratulated me on a great comeback. Another note is the Ronnie seeing that the momentum had changed when I was making the comeback NEVER ONCE attempted to shark me or do anything to distract me. Kudos to THE WISEMAN!
My next match was against THE RED RIFLE, a local legend for his straight shooting abilities. I came out of the gate firing my six shooter and at close range the six shooter proved deadly over the rifle. In quick order, as luck would have it, I found myself ahead 4-2, getting roll after roll in my favor. I win the match 5-3 and send the Red Rifle to the one loss side.
Now I find myself facing the practically invincible "THE PROGENY OF POOL", a moniker I bestow on him because of the conversation he shared with me about his early development. (maybe a story about him in my blog with his permission, another day) In short races on bar tables, almost anything can happen. The Progeny of Pool instills fear in every player's heart because of his methodical and precision play. Well, I know he gives me butterflies on occasion when he is making every shot and every shape needed. This day his game was a little off and I took advantage of some rolls that went my way and managed to squeak out a hill-hill victory from one of the best bar table players in North America (imo). The fact that he is a professional player and a WORKING MAN, makes me admire him all the more. It's tough to get up at 4:00 am, work all day, then come to a pool tournament at night and expect to perform your best. His play as usual was exemplary but he fell a little short and I got a little lucky.
Pocket billiards is the greatest sport from an amateur's viewpoint like mine, primarily because as an amateur I get a chance to play against the best players in the world and when I have a magical night, I might win a match or two.
After winning the match against "The Progeny of Pool", I had the winner's bracket locked up. It was late, very late and I was tired at 4:00 am but that is no excuse for losing. I still played well at this late hour, having slept a couple of hours before the event. I now faced STONEWALL, an adversary so deadly that few dare stand up to his prowess at the table in gambling matches. Luckily, this was only a tournament. Nevertheless, Stonewall played VERY SLOWLY and VERY DEADLY from the very beginning of our match. He had to beat me two sets in a row and he beat me the first set 5-3 and the second set 5-2. Even in defeat, I could hold my head high that I never sharked my opponents nor cheated them and I played the best pool of my life against some of the best players in Louisiana.
JoeyA
Naples, Florida 9 Ball tournament Circa:2009- RICKY BINGHAM
This was an old story that I cranked out rather quickly when I used to post on the newsgroup rec.sport.billiard. I thought some of you might enjoy it but the truth is that I like to give honor to those who have shown it and this is really all about Ricky Bingham.
out some copy. I have read many of your posts and want to thank you for
your support.
me alive in this very fine tournament.
indicates.
due to an allergy illness. He was feeling poorly when he played Grady
Mathews who played well most of the tournament. Grady thrashed several
opponents.
difference is hardly worth mentioning.
Bingham, from Kentucky (a coal miner and pool room owner.)
about. While he and I were struggling to get our game together, I dogged my
first nine ball on a shot that anyone could make 9 out of ten times. It
hung up in the hole and I didn't want him to have to make the effort to make
the shot which as I said, was hanging in the hole. I pushed it in not
because I was angry (although I was very disappointed with my lack of effort
on the shot) but because I was frustrated with my effort. It's hard to give
100 % effort on every shot but that is exactly what is required if you want
consistent play (even the easy ones). I smiled and told him "You don't have
to shoot that one" and I pushed it in. He walked over close to where I stood
and whispered, "You do know about the rule: If you don't allow your opponent
to finish the game, you forfeit that game PLUS ONE MORE GAME, don't you? I
said no and he quickly said that he wasn't telling the tournament director
about this faux pas and we continued on with our match which was a tough and
grueling one. We traded game for game all the way to 10-9 with each of
sharing the lead and I hung up ANOTHER nine ball on a relatively easy shot.
He won that game plus the last game to beat me 11-10.
in this tournament could win a match against any other player. It is not
like gambling where when you have a bad match, you just reach in your pocket
for some more money to continue the play. When you lose to your opponent
you can't buy back in and you don't get a chance to stay in the winner's
bracket. The rule is the rule and my plane was late getting into Naples, FL
so I missed out on hearing some of the rules which this was one of them. I
doubt if Ricky even knew when I arrived as I was just one of 75 players
coming there to test their mettle.
the people who felt his fire. But what he will be most remembered by me,
is a MAN OF MOST EXCELLENT CLASS.
who did not get a bye in the first round.
put up some very big bucks for this tournament and they plan to have another
one next year also in Naples. It will probably either be at the Ritz
Carlton Hotel or at the Seminole Indian Tribe's new hotel in Naples (soon to
be built). It was a success by every comments. There was local news
coverage as well as INSIDE POOL MAGAZINE, photographer and writer Paul XXX
(I forget his last name but only spoke to him briefly.) You might see some
great photos in Inside Pool Mag because there were certainly lots of great
matches.
entry fee anyway just for the chance to compete against some of the world's
best pool players. They too earned my respect and appreciation.
relations manager, O.B. Osceola, a sharp and personable young man who also
shares a passion for the game. There were many other Seminole Indians in
attendance as well as some their sponsored players...
and family to come back to.
JoeyA
