I have a very wide grin on my face (where else would I have it?) as I put this to paper. Congressional GOP nut job Gym Jordan is out as potential Speaker of the House. Donald Trump cronies are flipping on him like pancakes on an overheated IHOP griddle. Wait ‘til they take the stand and the events perpetrated by Trump to overturn the 2020 election will be spewed out of the horses’ mouths. With all the talk from Trump and the GOP about a stolen election, it looks as if it truly was nearly stolen, but by Trump and the GOP. Notice how everything Trump gets involved in turns to road apples and meadow muffins? I’m sure this all will precipitate mass quantities of whining from Voice contributor and Trump worshiper Wild Bill Suyhada. How ‘bout it, Wild Bill?
In my last contribution to The Voice about the late, great Dick Butkus, I was reminded of my own measly venture into the wide world of sports through pocket billiards and a celebrity from the sport, the late, great, Willie Mosconi. Many wouldn’t consider pool a sport, or know who Willie was, but hey, that’s all I got. Mosconi and Minnesota Fats were the grand poobahs of the pool world.
During my formative teen years I got pretty good at earning some gas money by defeating challengers at the local pool hall. That joint had perfect pool hall attributes. It was old, with the bottom two-thirds of the street-side display windows painted black. Inside, the rippled plaster walls were dark green on the bottom, mint green on top. The only lights in the place were the two shaded bulbs hanging over each of the well-used green pool tables. The wooden floors were worn and joyously creaked when stepped on. The whole place smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The owner sat by a cash register that rested on top of a dark, mostly empty display counter. This emporium would have been a perfect place for hustler Fast Eddie. Speaking of The Hustler movie, Willie Mosconi was the consultant on the film and even appeared racking the balls in the match between Paul Newman and Jackie Gleason. Close up trick shots were made by Willie.
Anyway, late one afternoon I was shooting pool with a friend from my rock band at a pool hall somewhere in Roseland in Chicago. This place just wasn’t the same as my regular haunt; new, with brightly-colored walls, overhead neon lights, tile floors and pool tables covered with salmon-colored felt. Yech!
We were playing at a table in the second row. As I was preparing to take my shot, I saw a silver-haired man in a light blue suit walk in the door. “Willie Mosconi!” I said.
“What would he be doing here?”
“I don’t know but there he is.”
“Sure. Finish your shot.”
A couple of other players noticed Mosconi and moved toward him. So did I.
“Anybody want to shoot some eight-ball?” asked Mosconi. He looked left then right at the assembled group. “How about it?” he said to the guy next to me who put up his hands and shook his head. Then he looked at me. “You?”
I was stunned for a moment, but thought, what the hey. “Okay.”
Willie took the cue ball from the nearest first row table and rolled it to check the level, then asked an employee to rack the balls. “You break,” he said to me.
Now I was nervous, thinking I should have kept my mouth shut. I broke, and managed to sink a ball. I missed the next one and it was all over for me. Willie ran the table. The employee racked the balls and Willie ran the table again. After the third run, I conceded. Mosconi did a few tricks and finished with one where he had a ball set on the neighboring lengthwise table in the second row. He yanked a bridge out of his mouth…Just kidding! It was about a billiards bridge, a long stick with a metal doodad on the end one used to rest the cue when it’s hard to stretch across the table to take a shot. Willie set a cue ball on the table, set the bridge on the salmon-colored felt (Yech!), rested his cue on the bridge and aimed. He popped the cue ball into the air and over to the next table and sunk the waiting ball in a corner pocket. When the applause died, Willie waved and walked out the door.
I never discovered why he happened in that day. So what if my meager pool prowess suffered a humiliation. It left me with a good story to tell.