Part 1 - Setting the Scene

A few weeks ago, the first time I entered my local pool room, no one was playing pool.  I had just moved to the area.

There were a couple guys in hoodies near the back on the boxing arcade game.

There was no one at the counter.  

I caught a trail of cigarette smoke and followed it past the counter around the corner, near the restrooms.  There was a guy sitting on a couple of milk crates facing the farthest pool table.  There was a laptop on the table and I could see he was playing online poker.

I kind of just stood there, trying to make some noise to get his attention, nothing seemed to work.  Then “Hold on, I’m in a big hand.”

To my left there was a sign that said “9-Ball Tournaments every Tuesday night, 8 p.m.”.  It was Tuesday night, 8:48.

“C’mon, fold already!”

Then cards dealt out on the screen, one, two then “ARE you kidding me?!”

He pops up and heads over to me, still shaking his head.  “Runner-runner flush.  I had three of a kind, went all in.  Who calls hoping for the flush?!”

He shakes his head some more, looking at the ground, and adds “Always play the odds, play the odds… you’ll win in the long run.”

When he looks up, he finally seems to see me.  He notices that I have my own cue.  He lights a cigarette and keeps his eyes on me as takes a big drag, then lets it out.  Then he  says “All the tables here are shit.  I can put you on the only good one but it’s by the, what do you call it,” he motions over to the guys wacking the punching bag game.

I’ll just take one over in the corner there.  He seems to make a face like he just ate something bad.  Tell you what, I’ll take the cover over this one here, you can play on that, OK?”

He takes the cover off the table, and then walks over to the counter and starts moving trays of balls around.  “Have to get the good set for that table,” and then goes in the back.  On a coffee table gathering dust are several issues of Billiards Digest magazines which seem to all dated in the early to mid nineties.  There is a coin-op peanut machine.  The peanuts seem to be as old as the magazines.

He comes back with the good balls.

“Sorry I didn’t see you when you came in, get a better wi-fi signal from the hair salon next door if I sit over there.”

He takes the balls out of the tray and puts them in the rack.

“Rents are going up in this whole strip.  The Catholic shop closed a few weeks ago, guess we’re not that far off,” then he adds in a louder voice and glances over to the hall “Ned I guess that means you’ll have to move”.  I didn’t notice before but there is an older guy in a worn denim jacket hanging halfway in the room holding a Bud.  He just nods with a blank look.

“Yeah the last to go will be us and the mexican place. Food’s not that bad,” he is racking the balls now.  I think about telling him he doesn’t have to but drop it.  He then starts to wipe the rails down.  After that he just stands there, thinking if there is anything else he could do.  Finally he goes back to poker.

I hit some balls around, pay, and I pass the mexican place as I drive away I see there are a couple of wait staff outside smoking, and I look inside and see it’s empty.

Winter storm Jonas had gotten underway and I went to bed with the snow falling, thinking how to save Larry, Ned, and the pool hall.