A lunar eclipse no less, and it was an amazing site to behold. And a great night to howl at the moon.
And my lovely wife Darlene and I did some howling.
I love to play pool. And this year I am the captain of my team in the league. Darlene spares in the league when someone can’t make it.
Last night was our last league play before the holidays, and Dave – a horse man in the area and an executive in the local Legion – put on a nice dinner for the players and the spares. We had been looking very forward to this night, to the point where Darlene’s brother Glenn would come up later and drive us home.
Before play we had a very nice lamb dinner, and a few beers.
And then we got down to the business of play for the night.
I played poorly – winning only one of my four matches. And another league player was unable to get there on time – stuck in traffic on business – so Darlene played in his place.
But the fun didn’t start until league play was done.
The tables were opened up for free play, so many of us stuck around to play.
Darlene and I teamed up to play Dave and Ken – a fair player on my team.
“We’ll play for a case of beer”, Dave said to Darlene.
“A case of beer? How about a drink?” she replied.
“No, a case of beer”.
And play started, and they cleaned a majority of their balls off the table.
“That’s a case of beer each you know”, said Dave, as his partner went to shoot the eight ball with most all of our balls still on the table.
I looked over at Darlene and you could see the wheels in her head working to calculate where the eighty dollars would come from to buy these two guys a case of beer each.
But Ken missed the eight ball.
And the balls were nicely set for me to make a nice run – and midway through the run, I hooked myself behind the eight ball and my only shot was to hit the cue ball from near a corner two rails around the table to strike the five ball into the side pocket.
“Five in the side”, I called to the group. I could feel their smirks as I lined up the angle.
The cue ball travelled into both rails and hit the five at just the perfect angle to send the five ball in the side pocket.
I let out a southern whoop, and pumped my fist like Tiger Woods sinking a twenty five foot put to take a lead in a major.
“Did he call that!?” asked Dave.
“He did indeed”, said Ken.
“So you know I was kidding about the case of beer right”, Dave was looking at Darlene.
“Just for beers from the bar”, replied Darlene.
“I like fine imports from Belgium and Ireland, Dave”, I chimed in.
I sank the eight ball, and the beers arrived at our table as the pool table was racked for a two out of three game rematch.
This time Darlene went on the run, and left Dave stuck on a far rail between our two stripped balls. Dave picked up a rake to reach for the shot – and the rake slipped and hit one of the striped balls. He tried again to line up the shot, but his cue stick hung up on the rake and it slipped to slightly touch the cue ball enough to constitute a shot.
Dave threw the rake to the ground, and called it a very bad name.
But that was not enough, as I tapped in a stripe to leave me a close shot at the eight for the game.
Photo by Bettina Lair, Copyright 2010