I played in my first division championship for APA Eight Ball today. To quote Xander from Buffy,
"on a scale from one to ten, it sucked."
Because the team we were playing couldn't make it at the scheduled time for the championship (3:00 P.M.), we, consummate sportsmen (err... sportspersons) that we are, opted to postpone the match until 8:00 tonight.
At about 10:45 this morning, khubli
gave me a call asking if I'd like to join him for a 1:00 lunch at Yen Jing, a Chinese-Korean restaurant close to Mr. Cue's II, the site of the tournament. I assented, despite my lack of sleep from stupidly going to bed the previous evening at about 5:00 A.M.
After watching some television, I met Jeech and Rob and Kym at the restaurant. Following lunch, we went ahead to Cue's II and met the rest of Rob's eight ball team. While they practiced and played, I basically hung about and socialized. I did play a bit on their practice table, but I didn't feel that I should take too much of a resource that they could potentially need.
Their team did extremely well, with Jim, sassica
, and khubli
winning in the first three matches. We were able to get out of there relatively early, and tiiguy
, and I got some dinner at Chili's.
We returned to Cue's II at about 7:00 P.M., and had to wait until about 9:00 to get our match started. Our practice table bordered what basically amounts to the spectator's area for tournament matches, and my team spent the better part of five hours asking various bloated redneck warthogs to move their misshapen asses, so we could actually access the table to shoot.
While I wrestled with the immovably rude, batnandu
played the first match and won. Runa and Ollie would fall to their opponents, however, and Nandu looked to me to break our slump. I played a relatively tight game against my opponent--playing defensive shots and offense-with-defensive-leaves if I felt less-than confident about a shot. My own offensive shooting was, excuse the pun, however, offensive
; I just stunk up the place with some horrendously missed shots.
Case in point: I found it easy to take advantage of some weaknesses when my opponent, Gary, would leave me well. But the end result of the first two games was that I would barely, just barely
miss the eight ball, leaving it tucked into a pocket, and Gary would then run the rest of the table. I must have missed at least 4 shots on the eight ball in the first two games, and even with Cue's II's small and pronounced pockets, that's inexcusable.
I would lost the match 0-3, and we would allow our foes to continue in the championship.
Because we were first in our division, however, we do continue to next weekend; so we're looking to practice sometime in the coming days, so we can hopefully do better.
I left Cue's II feeling wretched
. Not so much because of the match, though. By the time we returned from dinner, I had had just about my fill of the insipid atmosphere and oppressive cigarette and cigar smoke which permeates the sweltering armpit of a pool hall, and once our match was complete, I felt it had infected me with some horrid disease spontaneously growing from the tar-flavored miasma. I just know my spending about an entire day's worth of time in what should be called "Cue's Inferno" has robbed me of some precious time on the mortal coil...
Once we got back to DuPree's, however, I did spy yet another lithe, effulgent young Sweeney-type playing on Table 3. She was most cute. (No, I did not talk to her. Nor her boyfriend
We're going to help Patty move to the Mattress Factory Lofts tomorrow, so I'm going to try to catch some shut-eye.Current Mood: