Chalk another one up for the old guy.
Well, I get to put another one up in the ole win column. Funny thing, I wasn’t even trying. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even aware I was in a competition until it was over. Really. I’m amazed and just a little bit baffled. But a win’s a win so what the hell, I’ll add it to my growing pile of victories.
So let’s just recap before we go on. For quite a while now I’ve been embroiled in the perpetual battle between the ages. It started when some young wimper snapper (wimper. LOL, I kill me. Do you see what I did there? Still tweaking the kiddies. I delivered two messages with that one. I called the kiddies a bunch of cry-babies AND I serendipitously called them wimps. Now I’ve used a big word that they won’t understand. Sometimes I gotsta splain ‘em cuz the little kiddies don’t get ‘em.) started breaking my crackers about being old. Now, I have to admit that in most cases I’m 20 to 30 (ish) years older than my victims, but that makes the victory that much sweeter. To me, there’s nothing more satisfying than this over weigh, outa shape, arthritic, bad heart, half deaf, failing eyesight, decrepit old man kicking the crap out of some young buck. Wait a minute, what were we talking about? h’mmmmmmm. Oh yeah, memory is failing too. And I’m told I tell stories that go on and on and on yet have no point. Wait, but I digress.
OK, so I’m out the other night. I’m enjoying a few amber colored adult beverages with a cadre of friends. We decided to play a little pocket billiards. There’s a dozen or so of us and we are all standing around taking turns playing and having fun. Now, as guys do, there is a little spirited heckling being bandied about. Let me say this about that, this is definitely a group of guys you DON’T want to give any ammunition to. Harassment is a way of life. Everybody is getting it and everybody is giving it. It was actually quite an enjoyable evening.
Let me skip ahead a little. So I’m, playing 8-ball against this other guy. I’m winning about as many as I’m losing. The teams keep shifting so I’m not really keeping score. We get to the point where it’s me and the “victim” at the table. You have to remember there are about a dozen people watching. He scratches. I grabbed the cue ball out of the pocket and lined it up for my shot. I lined it up with the easiest shot I could find, which happened to be behind the line. He comes running over and tries to stop me, but I sink the ball anyway. A nice hard crisp shot with a lot of back spin. The object ball slams into the pocket and the cue ball comes rolling back to me. This guy is incredulous. He’s yelling “YOU CAN’T DO THAT. THAT WAS BEHIND THE LINE!!!” I just looked at him and responded “Yes I can, ball in hand.” This guy flies off into some kind of babbling rant about bar rules verses tournament rules. I don’t even know what the hell he’s talking about. All I know is, I’m shooting pool and he’s yelling. He’s yelling about changing rules in the middle of the game and comes running over to stop me. He’s still babbling about tournament rules when I stood up and said “No, you misunderstand, we’re playing Kelly Rules. I’m Kelly, so I make the rules”, and took my next shot. Now, I thought he was in on the joke, but apparently he was mad. In my list of maladies, did I mention that sometimes I fail to notice the obvious?
So a little while later he and I are talking and I don’t remember how we got to it but the subject of his age came up. I was about to make a comment about him being only slightly older than my son when he asked me how old he looked. So as I leaned in to take my next shot I muttered “19, I would have said about 19.” You have to remember, we’re out in an adult establishment so I know he’s not 19. It’s an automatic reflex to lower the age estimate when asked. It’s like when a woman asks how old she looks. You always take about ten years off the age you REALLY think she is. Anyway he launches into a rambling response about how he gets that a lot and that everyone thinks he’s younger than he is yada yada yada. I asked him how old he was. His response was “31, I’m 31 years old (23 years younger than me, anything over 20 and you are still a little kiddie) everyone thinks I’m young, Do you really think I look 19?” I kinda stood up, looked him in the face, squished up my face a little bit, shook my head and said “ah, no, not really.” His expression changed to one of surprise. His response was “Really? You don’t think I look younger than 31, everyone says I look younger”. I just stood there making one of those “I just burped and it tasted bad” faces shaking my head saying “no, not really.” His expression changed from surprise to anger. He’s eyes went all slanty and his jaw clenched. This one I could see, I caught that he didn’t like that I told him I was lying when I said he looked 19.
I leaned back over the table and took my shot. As luck would have it, I scratched. His expression changed again. It was like it was Christmas and he had just unwrapped a new XBOX. He’s now smiling and hopping up and down. He pulls the cue ball out of the pocket, shoves it in may face and starts “Ball in hand, I have ball in hand, you’re playing tournament rules, I have ball in hand.” He lines up a shot into the side pocket all the while saying “You did it now I can. We’re playing tournament rules I have ball in hand.” As he lines up his shot I start in. I go “WHOA, you can’t do that. You have to line YOUR shot up behind the line. You have to take your shot from way down there”, and point to the far end of the table. “You have to shoot at the balls down there” and point at the other end of the table. He starts in saying that yes he can, he can shoot any ball he wants, and I did it so he can do it we’re playing tournament rules. I stopped him and started saying “Whoa, Whoa, Whoa hold on there big fella. Who told you we were playing tournament rules?” Now he’s getting excited. He’s like “You did. You said we were playing tournament rules back when you took your scratch shot.” I just looked at him and responded “Oh no I didn’t. I distinctly told you we were playing Kelly rules. I told you I’m Kelly so I make the rules. Now move the cue ball behind the line and take your shot.”
I think a reasonable person would have caught on that they were having their crackers busted. I think they would have realized this about two hours earlier when everyone started busting everyone else’s crackers. It was kind of the way the night was going. Not this guy. This guy ended up throwing his pool cue. He bounced it off the table and it went flying. It crashed into a table of eight guys about twelve feet from where we were playing. This guy threw the stick seriously and with malice of intent. Luckily for him one of the guys with us quickly dashed over and made peace with this table full of guys, otherwise there could have been real trouble.
At first I thought he was fooling. I went over to try and calm him down. I very quickly realized I was going to be the wrong person for that job. This guy was livid. I’m not talking “Oh, you tweaked me a good one” mad. I’m talking on the edge of getting physical mad.
Needless to say, he quit playing. Ipso facto I get to chalk another one up in my win column. I still have that one loss to deal with but the wins are piling up so high I can’t see the top.
Just another example of old age and treachery defeating youth and talent. I wasn’t even trying.
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