Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Right now, I'm battling against all these contingencies.
Not to mention, the shaking.
Pool can be a tough game when you're 64.
It wasn't always that way, but I'm one of those who firmly believes it doesn't really matter how well you once played, the only thing that counts is how you play, now.
I, pretty much, stink.
I mean, most of the old coots I run into who claim they used to be good are full of shit. I can tell by the way they hold their sticks and move around the table. You might get rusty, but not totally dismantled.
I'm the opposite. People see me at the table and they automatically conclude I can play. I don't know what it is, but it's not something I'm purposely trying to generate.
During my practice sessions, I spend a lot of time trying to make shots that I can't make anymore. I don't ever want to be confused with the duck hunters who line up cherries and ceremoniously bang them in, as though this pitiful act actually proves something.
Practicing every day used to be important to me. Not anymore. Now, my daily trips to the poolroom are simply a way for me to break up my day. My wife says sitting at the computer all day could give me blood clots.
I've considered giving the game up completely. But, I'm not ready for that, yet. There's really not much else to do. Besides, I don't like the idea of blood clots.