Those One-Pocket Daddy-Os Can Bring It!

sunnyone

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Jun 6, 2010
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nyc
Dear Gentle Readers,

For those of you who missed the Senior Soirée in Houston, Mr. Henderson emerged victorious in a finals race to three games. He was ahead two games to, I believe, none. In the penultimate shot of what proved to be the last game, Mr. H. played a safety, forgetting that he had to spot a ball.

He thus left Mr. C. (Christian?) an easy shot. But it turned out Mr. C. thought he pocketed the winning shot and he swept up the balls to be racked. In fact, the gift ball was his seventh, so he forfeited the third and final game.

It was a unique end to a unique tournament.

I was able to watch only a few matches - - life intrudes - - but here are some thoughts from the peanut gallery:

> Overall, the tourney seemed to be fun and successful … a winner that I hope will be an annual event.

> So far I could determine there was only one hospitalization (food poisoning?) and no gravel dances.

> As I watched Mr. H. motor through the field, it occurred to me that his teachers probably didn’t waste much ink checking the ‘plays well with others’ box.

> Dr. Billy looked a little rusty on a couple of offensive shots, but his talent and experience showed through on some remarkable safeties - - including one incredible four-cushion shot that saved the game. (I believe he was playing someone named Casey who loves shooting at his pocket.)

> I wonder how many of the contestants had ever played on a TV table before?

> Someone might tell He Who Shall Not Be Named not to wear white shoes after Labor Day.

> A few of the players moved a little slowly around the table, but they still looked graceful.

> Even these veteran players, or maybe especially these veteran players, stopped to take periodic ball counts.

> In the finals both players walked around the table to remove chalk from their line of sight.

> The lush blueness of the cloth reminded me of the first time my dad took me to Yankee Stadium - - the greenness of the grass was mesmerizing.

> Every match I watched contained some amazing offensive and defensive shots.

Adulation is my life,

Sunny

P. S. I don’t believe the postulated theory that Mr. H. pretended to forget he had to spot a ball and muttered “Brain dead,” in order to double-move his opponent into thinking he had pocketed the winning ball.

That wild conjecture reminds me of the “We’re not that dumb and we’re not that smart,” Coca-Cola comment we studied in school.
 
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