Boogie, Rick, Ace, J.C.
A grand time was had by all, and we're already looking forward to the next session.
Showing posts with label hay loft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hay loft. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday Night SharpShooters
Last night, our Wednesday night pool league had it’s end-of-season party for the winter session. Since our team, The Hayloft, again came in first place, The Hayloft hosted the party serving up the usual complement of wings, pork, beans, hushpuppies, potato salad, cream puffs, etc. Many, of course, complemented the victuals with alcoholic beverages. Once again, we’d like to thank our team sponsors, Sheila and Rick, for supporting us throughout the season, and throwing a swinging party. Modesty almost prevents me from mentioning that in addition to the team first place trophy, I also received the SharpShooter Trophy for being the league's high individual point leader. Here are some of the pics I took:
The 1st Place Hayloft
Boogie, Rick, Ace, J.C.
Sheila: Our Lovely Host, Sponsor, Groupie
Kay, Gene, Guy in Green Shirt
Champs Boogie & Rick
Ace with Team & Individual 1st Place Trophies
You Can't Get Enough of These Guys
Boondocks: Dreamers & One Sore Sport
Carla: Cotie River's Perennial Top Female Point Leader
Sail In
April's DD (Double D) Saloon
More Sail Inners
Happy Fellas: Boog & J.C.
Our Sponsor
A grand time was had by all, and we're already looking forward to the next session.
Boogie, Rick, Ace, J.C.
A grand time was had by all, and we're already looking forward to the next session.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Time to Quit – Watching the Second Hand
My wife was watching public television the other day… it’s not something I encourage, but I have to live with the fact that our tastes in TV occasionally diverge. If I get up from the sofa to take a leak, you can bet that by the time I get back she will have grabbed the clicker and not only will she have switched to something to her liking but she will have become so engrossed in it that it will break my heart to make her switch back to what we were watching before my bladder call. Anyway, she was watching public TV and she heard someone say that four hours of second hand smoke is equivalent to smoking 17 cigarettes. Right away, this gets me to thinking about bar tournaments.
I haven’t been playing in as many as I used to. In fact, lately, I’ve only been playing in one, the Friday get-together at the Hay Loft. A few Fridays back a rumor was circulating that the owner was going to invest in smoke eaters. This was very good news for me who quit smoking back in 1990 so that I wouldn’t have to spend my last moments choking on phlegm. True to their word, the management did purchase four or five contraptions that run like your average ceiling fan and look like spinning black donuts. Unfortunately, they have no effect whatsoever on smoke. I still have a hard time believing that anyone with half a brain would waste their money on such crap. But, alas, somebody did. And that was it for me – I made up my mind not to go back.
So, without bar tourneys, I’m going to be limited to playing pool where it was meant to be played, in pool rooms. The main consequence of this is that I now have to resign myself to not winning, not coming in the money, and to not having a chance. Such is life.
Of course, this can be expensive. With this in mind, I’ve been working on my websites with renewed vigor, hoping to increase revenues enough to compensate for my losing ways. In my latest undertaking, I believe it took me two or three days to complete, I gathered together all the bios I have written – music bios, sports bios, literary bios, art bios – and christened the little corner of the internet they occupy Ace’s Bio-Farm. Will it have an effect on overall visits to my site? Who the hell knows?
As far as my game goes, considering I haven’t been playing as much as I should, I’m not playing too bad. I’ve been doing eye exercises using two ping pong balls on a string while I’m watching TV and I actually think I’m seeing the balls a lot better. I doubt that I’ll ever be able to see them like I could when I was a kid, but I am seeing a lot of shots that I wasn’t seeing before. My stroke – now, that’s another problem.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Another Milestone
No, I didn’t run 100 balls. Friday, June 23rd was my 59th birthday. I celebrated by going out to breakfast with my wife and by zipping over to the Hay Loft after supper for the regular Friday night 8-ball tourney. Luck was on my side most of the night and I managed to come in second. The prize was $45. Not bad considering there were only 15 entrants and the entry fee is $5.
But let’s get back to the big FIVE NINE. Next comes the big SIX OH. Do I feel any different? No. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m basically the same guy I was 10, 20, 30 and 40 years ago. Have I reassessed my life? No, again. Enjoying the good life, messing with my web pages and playing pool are still my primary pursuits. As far as shooting pool goes, though I haven’t been playing much lately – settling my mother’s estate has taken a lot more time and energy than I had expected – I’m still convinced not only that I’m getting better, but that one day I may once again be classified as “damn good.”
As far as playing goes, I’ve pretty much limited myself to Friday nights at the Loft and Thursday nights at DJ’s in NPR. The former, I win occasionally, the latter, never. Last week, Earl Strickland showed up. Had I won a match, I might have got to play Earl but as usual I went two and out. Playing Earl isn’t as bad as you might think. He does a lot of conceding. He conceded one game after missing the three ball. I guess he thought he was playing Johnny Archer or something. Anyway, Earl or no Earl, I have a better chance of getting hit by lightning twice than I do of winning at DJ’s. But the guys down there are almost bearable, so I go.
Speaking of Johnny Archer, I caught him and Corey Deuel in a match up a Capone’s a few weeks back. Archer was on the hill but lost focus and let Deuel come back from 4 games down. I was surprised by how much missing they both did. It seems the pros have as much trouble on the Diamond tables as we amateurs. The pockets don’t suck the balls in like they do on the Brunswicks; no margin for error.
Anyway, once my mother’s place gets sold most of my work will have been done. Hopefully, then I’ll be able to rededicate myself to what matters – playing pool.
But let’s get back to the big FIVE NINE. Next comes the big SIX OH. Do I feel any different? No. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m basically the same guy I was 10, 20, 30 and 40 years ago. Have I reassessed my life? No, again. Enjoying the good life, messing with my web pages and playing pool are still my primary pursuits. As far as shooting pool goes, though I haven’t been playing much lately – settling my mother’s estate has taken a lot more time and energy than I had expected – I’m still convinced not only that I’m getting better, but that one day I may once again be classified as “damn good.”
As far as playing goes, I’ve pretty much limited myself to Friday nights at the Loft and Thursday nights at DJ’s in NPR. The former, I win occasionally, the latter, never. Last week, Earl Strickland showed up. Had I won a match, I might have got to play Earl but as usual I went two and out. Playing Earl isn’t as bad as you might think. He does a lot of conceding. He conceded one game after missing the three ball. I guess he thought he was playing Johnny Archer or something. Anyway, Earl or no Earl, I have a better chance of getting hit by lightning twice than I do of winning at DJ’s. But the guys down there are almost bearable, so I go.
Speaking of Johnny Archer, I caught him and Corey Deuel in a match up a Capone’s a few weeks back. Archer was on the hill but lost focus and let Deuel come back from 4 games down. I was surprised by how much missing they both did. It seems the pros have as much trouble on the Diamond tables as we amateurs. The pockets don’t suck the balls in like they do on the Brunswicks; no margin for error.
Anyway, once my mother’s place gets sold most of my work will have been done. Hopefully, then I’ll be able to rededicate myself to what matters – playing pool.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Perfect Alignment
The planets were lined up just right, I had a good draw, I got a few good rolls, and I might’ve been a little lucky because for the second time in about 6 weeks I won the Friday night stop on the local bar room tour. Top prize was ninety bucks instead of the usual hundred because of a sparse field, I guess.
Like I have said, my friend James is moving out of Pasco County and back to Tennessee in a couple weeks, so my participation as a regular on the bar tour is about to come to an end. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met a lot of nice people on the circuit, as well, of course, as more than a few slugs. It’s the game they play that I’ve had enough of. It looks like pool, it even smells like pool, but to me it just isn’t pool. It’s sort of like comparing miniature golf to that game Tiger Woods plays, if you know what I mean.
I mean, sure, I’ve won a few tournaments but I’d be much more pleased with myself if I entered an ‘A’ tournament and won a match or two. If you want to be a pool player, you gotta play pool.
So, after James leaves I’ll be performing my wizardry in the pool halls of Pasco County. At least, that’s the plan. I might sneak back to the bars once in a while, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
And there are other forces at play here, like I don’t smoke. Sure, there’s a lot of smoking in the pool rooms, too, but most of the pool rooms around here have smoke eaters and other types of ventilation. This is not the case with the beer joints. They could give a shit about your lungs. I quit smoking back in 1990 and I like to kid myself into thinking my odds of getting lung cancer have gone down. It’s hard to kid yourself when after a night of pool playing you come home with aching lungs.
Then there’s the fact that I don’t drink. I haven’t had so much as a beer since I was diagnosed a diabetic back in 2000. I’ve been told I can have an occasional beer with little consequence, but, the way I look at it, if you’re not gonna get bombed why drink at all. I do feel obligated to buy something when I’m out, so I’ll usually buy myself a water or a diet cola. (Note: I didn’t endorse any particular brand of diet cola because as of now I haven’t received that $50,000 check.)
That’s about it. I’m still practicing about an hour a day, working on my stroke and my shot making, and I’m still wearing the eye patch over my subdominant eye hoping to make my dominant eye more… dominant. Is it doing any good? I don’t really think so; not yet anyway. But, I’m a stubborn mother f’er - I refuse to give up.
Like I have said, my friend James is moving out of Pasco County and back to Tennessee in a couple weeks, so my participation as a regular on the bar tour is about to come to an end. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met a lot of nice people on the circuit, as well, of course, as more than a few slugs. It’s the game they play that I’ve had enough of. It looks like pool, it even smells like pool, but to me it just isn’t pool. It’s sort of like comparing miniature golf to that game Tiger Woods plays, if you know what I mean.
I mean, sure, I’ve won a few tournaments but I’d be much more pleased with myself if I entered an ‘A’ tournament and won a match or two. If you want to be a pool player, you gotta play pool.
So, after James leaves I’ll be performing my wizardry in the pool halls of Pasco County. At least, that’s the plan. I might sneak back to the bars once in a while, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
And there are other forces at play here, like I don’t smoke. Sure, there’s a lot of smoking in the pool rooms, too, but most of the pool rooms around here have smoke eaters and other types of ventilation. This is not the case with the beer joints. They could give a shit about your lungs. I quit smoking back in 1990 and I like to kid myself into thinking my odds of getting lung cancer have gone down. It’s hard to kid yourself when after a night of pool playing you come home with aching lungs.
Then there’s the fact that I don’t drink. I haven’t had so much as a beer since I was diagnosed a diabetic back in 2000. I’ve been told I can have an occasional beer with little consequence, but, the way I look at it, if you’re not gonna get bombed why drink at all. I do feel obligated to buy something when I’m out, so I’ll usually buy myself a water or a diet cola. (Note: I didn’t endorse any particular brand of diet cola because as of now I haven’t received that $50,000 check.)
That’s about it. I’m still practicing about an hour a day, working on my stroke and my shot making, and I’m still wearing the eye patch over my subdominant eye hoping to make my dominant eye more… dominant. Is it doing any good? I don’t really think so; not yet anyway. But, I’m a stubborn mother f’er - I refuse to give up.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Howl. Lay. Loo. Yuh.
Yesterday, Friday, started off in the doctor’s office – a fun way to start any day. This time my numbers were good – PSA, H A1c, cholesterol, liver enzymes. “A superb example of the male species,” the doctor was thinking… or, something to that effect. I told him that one of my health advisors at Blue Cross Blue Shield had suggested I get a pneumonia shot and he agreed it was a good idea. “Well, give me one,” I said. “You’ll have to make an appointment,” he replied. Once upon a time, way back when, a doctor might have said, “Hold on, I’ll have the nurse give you the injection.” But now they’re too busy. You have to come back another day and, probably, pay for another visit. Anyway, that’s how the day started.
With the mail came our new auto insurance policy from Hartford/AARP - up another $100 from last year. Guess us safe drivers have to pay for all the stupid mistakes made by the demented silver horde who can hardly operate a car door let alone the other intricacies of automobile operation. This increase comes on top of a three fold increase in our mobile home insurance – THREE FOLD!!! Can you imagine? We have to pay the poor insurance companies for all of last year’s hurricane payouts. I didn’t collect anything. And, all of a sudden, the mobile home we paid $19,000 for in 2000 has a replacement value of $44,000. I feel so blessed.
Around 7 PM I got the idea of asking our neighbors to tape a show that was airing on TNT at 8. They had just switched from cable to satellite and told me they were not sure their VCR was hooked up. I went over and farted around for almost an hour trying to figure out how to record and wound up losing the satellite altogether which made my neighbor a little anxious. Thankfully, the satellite manual gave clear directions for turning the system on and, though I never figured out how to record, I did manage to leave with everything working as it had been. When I got home, it was five minutes to eight.
I usually leave for the Friday night bar tourney at 7:30 and the tournament usually starts at 8. I was late. I scrambled through the business pages of the phone book and finally found the bar’s listing. I called and was eventually connected to the tournament director and had her sign me up.
I arrived just in time for my first match and, as luck would have it, I was to play one of the better players. He’s a regular at one of the local pool halls who drops by figuring someone who can play on the big tables won’t have any trouble stealing the $100 first prize. He broke, made nothing, and I ran out. Next, I played a fellow who apparently had been drinking for several hours. Realizing that the only way I could lose was to accidentally sink the 8, I took my time and, after a sloppy 5 or 6 innings, emerged victorious. Next, I barely beat a gal who plays pretty decent. By and by, I beat a decent player for the winner’s side and eventually played him again for the tournament. I won. It was my first win since my operation in May of 2004. As Fast Eddie says at the end of The Color of Money, “I’m Back!”
Howl-Lay-Loo-Yuh!
With the mail came our new auto insurance policy from Hartford/AARP - up another $100 from last year. Guess us safe drivers have to pay for all the stupid mistakes made by the demented silver horde who can hardly operate a car door let alone the other intricacies of automobile operation. This increase comes on top of a three fold increase in our mobile home insurance – THREE FOLD!!! Can you imagine? We have to pay the poor insurance companies for all of last year’s hurricane payouts. I didn’t collect anything. And, all of a sudden, the mobile home we paid $19,000 for in 2000 has a replacement value of $44,000. I feel so blessed.
Around 7 PM I got the idea of asking our neighbors to tape a show that was airing on TNT at 8. They had just switched from cable to satellite and told me they were not sure their VCR was hooked up. I went over and farted around for almost an hour trying to figure out how to record and wound up losing the satellite altogether which made my neighbor a little anxious. Thankfully, the satellite manual gave clear directions for turning the system on and, though I never figured out how to record, I did manage to leave with everything working as it had been. When I got home, it was five minutes to eight.
I usually leave for the Friday night bar tourney at 7:30 and the tournament usually starts at 8. I was late. I scrambled through the business pages of the phone book and finally found the bar’s listing. I called and was eventually connected to the tournament director and had her sign me up.
I arrived just in time for my first match and, as luck would have it, I was to play one of the better players. He’s a regular at one of the local pool halls who drops by figuring someone who can play on the big tables won’t have any trouble stealing the $100 first prize. He broke, made nothing, and I ran out. Next, I played a fellow who apparently had been drinking for several hours. Realizing that the only way I could lose was to accidentally sink the 8, I took my time and, after a sloppy 5 or 6 innings, emerged victorious. Next, I barely beat a gal who plays pretty decent. By and by, I beat a decent player for the winner’s side and eventually played him again for the tournament. I won. It was my first win since my operation in May of 2004. As Fast Eddie says at the end of The Color of Money, “I’m Back!”
Howl-Lay-Loo-Yuh!
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