Island Of Misfits

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putembk said:
Been trimming since 9 am......neighbor call and wants to shoot pool.....fock it.....time for a break.

For those who know me, I'm not a very competitive person.....ha ha.....I'm gonna kick his ass so bad he will never call again......

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Click to expand...
OK, Pute... Now ya done it.

On December 9, 1967 in Poughkeepsie, NY... I beat Minnesota Fats in an exhibition 8-ball game. TINS

It went thisaway: There was this big crowd at some store opening, so my buddy** and I wandered over and -- YIKES!
**Born thief, gave up on him -- wound up as a prison guard.

There was Minnesota Fats inside a velvet corded crowd-backum-upper, standing by a pool table of the the kind being sold at that store. This was in the absolute height of the pool-hall craze.

He announced to the crowd that he was going to ask for a volunteer... and I was inside the ring. Fats was half-startled (so was I) and blurted, "Well lookee here. We have a volunteer." The crowd tittered.

Fats says, "D'you wanna break?"

I knew damn' well if I did, I'd have to run them all, so I said, "No. You break."

Fats says, "Then you don't get to shoot." The crowd guffawed. Kinda horrible moment, ya know?

Fats breaks the fargin sound barrier with the cue ball, and the triangle detonates. I swear it took ten seconds for everything to stop rolling.

But nothing went in any pocket! Omigawd. Salvation. At least I get to shoot. Had no trouble with the first four balls and as the fourth one went in and I was lining up on the fifth, Fats says, "We have a straight-shooter!"

Yup. ****.

Fats walks over, whickety wacketywackety <--2 at a time, whack. The result was the 8-ball was at the very edge of a corner pocket and the cue ball was a foot away at a perfect angle. And here is where I became one of the very few to beat Minnesota Fats in front of hundreds of witnesses...

Fats decided to rub my nose in it, because I probably scared him just a little with my start after his terrible break. He lines up a three-bank shot all the way down the other end of the table.

It was perfect. Here comes the cue ball right to the 8-ball. But...

BUT! It hit the 8-ball ever-so-slightly to one side. The 8-ball dropped right in, since Fats had left it nearly hanging. And since the 8-ball gave in so easily the energy was not transmitted, so the cue ball followed the 8-ball into the pocket!

I won!!! The crowd went mild!

Now here comes the payoff. While folks were gathering around me and Fats... my thief-buddy reached in the corner pocket and stole the cue ball.

We were all the way out to the car before he showed me my "trophy". I still have that cue ball, and it still has the blue chalk marks on it.
 
Unca Walt said:
OK, Pute... Now ya done it.

On December 9, 1967 in Poughkeepsie, NY... I beat Minnesota Fats in an exhibition 8-ball game. TINS

It went thisaway: There was this big crowd at some store opening, so my buddy** and I wandered over and -- YIKES!
**Born thief, gave up on him -- wound up as a prison guard.

There was Minnesota Fats inside a velvet corded crowd-backum-upper, standing by a pool table of the the kind being sold at that store. This was in the absolute height of the pool-hall craze.

He announced to the crowd that he was going to ask for a volunteer... and I was inside the ring. Fats was half-startled (so was I) and blurted, "Well lookee here. We have a volunteer." The crowd tittered.

Fats says, "D'you wanna break?"

I knew damn' well if I did, I'd have to run them all, so I said, "No. You break."

Fats says, "Then you don't get to shoot." The crowd guffawed. Kinda horrible moment, ya know?

Fats breaks the fargin sound barrier with the cue ball, and the triangle detonates. I swear it took ten seconds for everything to stop rolling.

But nothing went in any pocket! Omigawd. Salvation. At least I get to shoot. Had no trouble with the first four balls and as the fourth one went in and I was lining up on the fifth, Fats says, "We have a straight-shooter!"

Yup. ****.

Fats walks over, whickety wacketywackety <--2 at a time, whack. The result was the 8-ball was at the very edge of a corner pocket and the cue ball was a foot away at a perfect angle. And here is where I became one of the very few to beat Minnesota Fats in front of hundreds of witnesses...

Fats decided to rub my nose in it, because I probably scared him just a little with my start after his terrible break. He lines up a three-bank shot all the way down the other end of the table.

It was perfect. Here comes the cue ball right to the 8-ball. But...

BUT! It hit the 8-ball ever-so-slightly to one side. The 8-ball dropped right in, since Fats had left it nearly hanging. And since the 8-ball gave in so easily the energy was not transmitted, so the cue ball followed the 8-ball into the pocket!

I won!!! The crowd went mild!

Now here comes the payoff. While folks were gathering around me and Fats... my thief-buddy reached in the corner pocket and stole the cue ball.

We were all the way out to the car before he showed me my "trophy". I still have that cue ball, and it still has the blue chalk marks on it.
Click to expand...
Did I ever tell you about the time Amelia Earhart and I made a flight around the world? :)
 
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