Tag Archives: Pool

Straight Pool & Equal Offense Scoresheet/Spreadsheet Update

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I’ve made some updates to the score sheets.

I’ve uploaded all of them now to GoogleDocs for one. That’s the big change.

Other small changes, currently exclusive to the GoogleDocs versions, are minor formatting changes, formulaic changes to rid the sheets of #DIV/0 errors, and the removal of some extraneous columns to help with formula drag filling.

Furthermore, I’ve shared all the GoogleDocs versions so they’re public for the finding, though I’ve retained exclusive editing rights.

As always, suggestions and tweaks, especially those that stem from trial-by-fire experience, are always welcome.

Straight Pool & Equal Offense Scores and Stats Sheets

Ye’ Olde English Billiards Parlour in the Basement

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Light That’s what I want. That’s what I plan to have.

The basement of the house we’re negotiating on is unfinished. It’s already framed in (a very nice professional job, too), and awaits only drywall and finishing. However, I want to get the pool table installed now, and finish the room around it later. That means floor first, rather than the typical last.

Our plan for the moment is to install tile directly under the pool table and carpet tiles around that. The tile under the table will help support the table, won’t settle the way carpet does, and will provide a beautiful accent. The carpet tiles will grant the luxury of being able to take tiles up, put tiles down and cut tiles to size as I’m finishing up the walls. Then if someone… when someone spills their drink on the carpet we can just take the tile up, hose it down, let it dry, and drop it back into place. They make carpet tiles with a thick enough nap that the seams are invisible, so it’ll look just like a normal carpet floor.

Here’s the rough plan starting just as soon as possible after we take possession and move in:

  1. Pull down the ceiling tile framework the previous owner installed. Don’t need it. Don’t want it.
  2. Spray the ceiling black, or another dark color (the wife suggested a dark grey similar to the tiles we looked at) which will give the illusion of a more open space, and actually provide more space. I have a piston sprayer I used on my current ceiling. That’ll do.
  3. Install the tiles on the 45, with a border around those on the 90, with the whole area being just large enough to fit under the table. I have a professional tiler friend who has offered to help with this in exchange for beer.
  4. Make an appointment to have the table delivered and installed. This is key. It will become my deadline for everything above this line. It’s good to have deadlines. They keep us on our toes and getting things done.
  5. Install the carpet tiles around the newly installed table.
  6. Finish the basement as time and money allow, and play lots of pool in the meantime!

I’m a little worried about the weight of the table on those tiles, and potential breakage. Will an underlayment like ditera help, hurt or be indifferent?

For the rest of the room, I’m thinking of an old English pub feel, with nice dark wainscoting and other woods and stained stucco. :)

We have no reason to believe our plans to buy this particular house will fall through, but if they do, my rough plan outlined here remains, no matter what house we end up in.

Pool Table and Rec Room Furniture Moved

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We’re not completely beat, but we’re certainly tired.  Moving our rec room furniture out of one friend’s basement, and into two others will do that I suppose.

I hired out the pool table itself, preferring to have someone experienced in dismantling pool tables do that job.  It was taken to one friend’s basement, along with two barstools and the light this morning.

This afternoon, I, my wife, and the couple from whom we bought the whole set, moved the rest of it into the garage in our Southern Home.  That includes the captain’s chair, the player chair, four rolling chairs, a high top table, and a flip-top poker/game table, and a 60″ standing bar.  Thankfully, we had a family truck to use, which meant we had to make a couple trips, and put stuff in cars as well, and make two trips to boot, but we didn’t have to pay anything for it.

One step closer to having a usable pool table!

The Shape of Things to Come

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See what I did there?

There’s a bit of logistics involved yet, but I finally have myself a pool table.

Pocket Detail External Pocket Detail

It’s an 8′ table that’s been well taken care of over it’s ~3 year lifetime. It comes with a bar, a high top table, two bar stools, two pool chairs, a poker table with four rolling chairs, a wall mounted cue rack and a light to hang over the table when it’s all installed. Jami is as excited about it as I am, I think. To her, it’s a sign that we’re moving forward and the promise of many fun evenings at home with our friends, or just ourselves. To me, it’s a pool table!

Light

I still need to arrange to have the table disassembled and transported to it’s intermediate location where it will sit until such a time as we have a permanent residence in which to install it. That is an event for which I can barely wait. Unfortunately, owning two homes, and with the housing market being what it is, that might take a little longer than we would like. As I keep saying, however, we’ll get there.

The point is, though we can’t use it yet, I finally own a pool table!

What A Difference Skinny Tires Make

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I ran – rode rather, the same gauntlet last night that I road last week. This time, however, I did not bonk. I’m still noticing some distinct lack of power, both “brute” and “staying”, but as a friendly commenter on the last post pointed out (I’m looking at you, Apertome), that’ll change as I keep pushing and pulling the cranks.

What did not happen was a flat. I credit the fact that I was riding solo without my buddy. He is a chaos magnet. That’s his superpower. His superpower is to attract chaos. An unassuming, by all accounts normal, rather shy everyday guy with a penchant for computers, he nonetheless gathers chaos around him like a hot knife through a flame… or something like that. How the servers he’s charged with maintaining haven’t erupted in volcanoes of sparks and lava and Udûn spawn is beyond me. The point is he’s a danger to himself and all those around him, and should be given a wide berth whenever possible.

Or perhaps the point is that I didn’t have a flat, which happens very rarely anyway, so it’s really not that notable.

Still, it’s rather ironic (I think I’m using it correctly here… it’s tough to tell sometimes) that when I ride my heavy bike with thick wide 37c tires I get a flat, and when I ride my crit bike with thinning skinny 23c tires, that have literally been to the mountain top and back, I get through without incident. Oh well… I’m not complaining. Truth be told, I was happy to not have a flat.

And what a difference those skinny tires made. If you compare the previous ride on those thick tires to last night’s ride you’ll note that I shaved 22 minutes off my time on the EXACT SAME ROUTE! Now, that’s something! Of course, I increased my average heart rate by 11bpm (though I was significantly less tired afterwards), but that’s not the point. The point is 22 minutes! I can’t explain the difference in elevation gain, except to say that maybe elevation detection isn’t the Edge 705′s strong suit. But 22 minutes! I wonder how I’d do if I dropped down to 12c tires?

I had a friend waaay back in the day (I don’t consider him an un-friend now, mind you) that played pool with a snooker cue. He used a much thinner 9mm shaft compared to our 12mm shafts. It’s amazing how much difference just a few millimeters make (“That’s what she said!” – thank you, Michael Scott). He was an amazing player as well… so much more amazing than we were (and we were damned amazing). I think that shaft had a lot to do with it. Certainly more than the countless practice and seasoning hours he spent with it.* Too bad he kept breaking with the cue until it shattered. Oh well…

So now I’m left wondering… if he was so much better with a skinny shaft (shut up, Michael-in-my-head), then how much better would I be with 12c tires? I’m assuming, of course, that the tire wouldn’t just flat out flat out immediately due to lack of support.

But you know, in the end, the speed isn’t the point. It’s the exercise and all the benefits of that, and the joy of being out on the road on the bike amidst all the drivers who hate me (and the precious few who don’t).

I think I’ll stick with my 37c’s and 23c’s, thank you.

I just need to find a way to fend off the chaos swarming around my friend…

Oh,and last night was the maiden voyage of my new Lazer Helium helmet. It gave me a headache. I loosened the Rollsys® Retention System though, and I was fine.

* Statement is false

Guest Author: Mrs. Cue Ball

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David,

I don’t think you deserve an explanation for how I’ve treated you. I don’t think I owe you anything. But I think we have a chance, you and I, of getting back what we once had, so I’m going to give you one.

I don’t always go where you want me to go, and often I go exactly where you don’t want me to go. What do you expect? You haven’t been visiting me that much. I’m hurt, and am feeling neglected by the lack of attention lately. So, yeah, maybe I am being a little passive aggressive. Instead of talking to you directly, I behave badly, and hope you’ll work it out yourself. I’m talking to you directly now, though. So anything that happens after this is on you.

If you’d just spend more time with me, I wouldn’t have to hide myself behind the pretty blue 2 ball. With more attention, I may have slowed to a stop a few inches back that way, and let you see your 11 ball. Look at it, all pretty and stripey. Oh wait. You can’t see it. The 2 is in the way. My bad. *shrug*

Also, about that thing you call a stroke. I bet you can’t even remember what it’s called, can you? Can you? Chicken wing! That’s what it’s called. But what’s it all about? Where’d that come from? You used to hit me true and on the straight and narrow. I used to know right where to expect you. Now, you’re all over the place. What am I supposed to do with that? I try to go where you want me to go, but what you apparently want, and what you’re telling me are two completely different things.

You did this to yourself. It’s not my fault you decided you had more important things to do. Now you want to come back and pick up where things left off. Well, let me tell you, it’s not that simple. It’s not going to happen that way. I lost faith in you. I lost trust in you. You’re going to have to earn it back. That means time. That means attention, and if you want me back, you’re going to have to give me that time and attention. If I don’t get it, I’m going to keep dumping you for the other person to see how they do.

I’m being straight with you here, which is more than I can say for how you’ve been treating me, Mr. Chicken Wing.

Now, I’m not saying I’ll leave you forever. I think we have a chance. We used to have something real good going on. It was solid. We liked each other. We joked around. We played, we laughed. we had a great time! I’m telling you, we can have all that again. But it’s conditional… we can have all that again on the condition that you treat me right, and with the respect you used to show me; the respect I deserve. We have a chance, you and I, but remember what I said: time and attention. There are no freebies here. You can’t just expect me to do what you want. You have to earn it.

I’m around… you just have to find me again.
Yours,
Cue Ball

Teh Stupid and Rack Attacking

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Last night I was playing solo on a 9-foot table at the local pool hall. A couple guys come up and want to gamble. $1 a rack. Seriously? $1.00 a rack? Red flag #1. $1.00 is petty change, but I don’t gamble. It’s a principle thing. I have, on occasion, but very rarely, and only with people I know and trust to not break my jaw.

One of the guys, perhaps in his late 40′s or early 50′s and seemingly “in charge”, goes on about the 1, 5 and 9 being money balls… trying to talk the talk, throwing lingo around like it’s rice at a wedding. Red flag #2. I have a tough time convincing him that I don’t gamble, but am certainly willing to share the table for a while. “What’s the 9 mean, then?” he asks. “It means you win?” I respond. “Uh… you get to break the next rack…” Red flag #3. I’m really starting to wonder at this point about the fellow as this line of conversation goes on for about a minute. Finally, we agree to just play. He racks.

In a manner of speaking.

It’s loose. He can’t control the rack and bumps the balls all over when he tries to lift it. Never mind that the head ball is 3 inches from the spot. I gently allow as to how it should be straight, tight, and on the spot. It takes him (seriously) about a minute to finally get the rack reasonably tight, and figure out how to rack. I’m caught between tapping my toes in frustration and laughing out loud at his clumsy ineptitude. And this guy wanted to gamble?

I give some thought to the idea that maybe he’s playing with me. Maybe he’s coming across as a bumbling idiot in the hopes of luring me into some money games, at which time he’ll wipe the floor with me. I don’t spend much time on that line of thinking.

I cleaned the table with him. Over and over again. He never lets on that he actually knows what he’s doing. He’s a loud talker who puts more energy into making fun of those shots I missed than congratulating me on those I make. I’m not easily sharked by such things, and since I neither know the guy, nor want to, it’s of no consequence to me. He tires of racking (but not before I’ve tired of watching his tragic attempts) and wanders aimlessly off to hit on some underage girls. Pure class, that one. I proceed to clean the table with his mumbling friend who, all sweat and B.O. and clearly unaware of personal space and boundaries, was also entirely too “familiar.” It was a little creepy.

Pet Peeve: People who stand next to the table while I’m shooting. Find a seat, slick. Sit down, get out of the way, and let me shoot.

As it started taking them longer and longer to rack the balls after I beat the crap out of them, I started racking them myself and just shooting it out like they weren’t there. Eventually they quietly left. Well, sweaty guy did whine a little bit, but I responded with an unsympathetic “This table costs money and you guys were wasting mine.” Mr. Class was nowhere to be seen, so I allowed myself to simply be grateful for his absence. My increasing misery at their presence was obvious enough that the waitress commented on it after they left.

That painful chapter of my life over, I got in a small “Rack Attack” demo competition with some other guys. I ended up with a less-than-stellar 39 out of 50, but there was a moment. During my second rack I was on shot 9 with 2 balls left and I have a choice. I can make one ball and I get 9 points. Or I can make both balls in one shot and not only get 10 points, but also crazy pool cred and the shouts and worship of all those around watching.

Care to guess which shot I attempted? I won’t make you. I had the shape and saw the pattern, so I rocketed the first ball into a corner pocket, sending the cue ball screaming around the table three rails and perfectly into the second ball, sending it, in turn flying into the same corner pocket. Oh yes. There was shouting. There was praise. There were high-fives and looks of wonder and envy. It was glorious.

I’m not a fan of the name of the game… it seems a little melodramatic to me, but I do like how it lends itself to (designed for?) stats keeping and finding a true average that can’t honestly be determined against opponents of various skill levels.

Bike today? Magic 8-ball says: Maybe.

Brush with Fame

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Saturday night I went to Sharks, a local pool hall, with the intent of entering a 9-ball tournament. I did exactly that. And for it being my first tournament in years, I didn’t do too bad. I pulled 6th place out of 30 entrants. I completely choked on my last match, but it was very late, and I’m just not used to marathon playing like that. I’m giving it time. It’ll all come back. Last weekend was just the start.

However, that’s really not the point. The point is…

I’m sitting there watching a match between two of the best players in the tournament. Why wouldn’t I? Free lessons, after all. A guy is sitting next to me. Older, I’m thinking maybe 50 or so, he looks really familiar, but I can’t place him, and being more interested in the match being played out in front of me, I let it go. We start talking, and introduce ourselves. His name is Paul. We’re critiquing the match, sharing stories, just generally chatting. He tells about how he’s been playing the game for 55 years (turns out he’s 60), and is so grateful to the game for carrying him around the world multiple times, giving him the opportunity to learn 5 different languages and meet literally thousands upon thousands of fantastic people.

I’m listening, but what he’s saying isn’t really sinking in. Around the world? Many languages? Thousands upon thousands of people? How many pool players credit all that to the game? I’m going to lay my money on a pretty slim minority.

It still doesn’t sink in that this fellow is probably a pretty remarkable player. He has a very humble demeanor, though he’s obviously very confident in what he says. A stranger in the pool hall, he immediately zeroed in on the best players in the house which speaks to his skill in knowing what to look for.

My name is called, and I settle into my last match… the one, as I said, that I choked on. It was with a friend of mine I’ve known for about a decade now, and he’s been in my head for a while. I really wanted to beat him, but I couldn’t let go of the idea that he was going to beat me. We’re chatting between shots, and he asks if I knew Paul Gerni was there. All of a sudden it clicks. THAT’S where I recognize him from! ESPN! Paul… Paul Gerni… is an internationally renown trick shot artist with more than a few titles under his belt!

Unbelievable! I was just chatting with a guy that knows as much about pool as damn near anyone, and doing so like I had a clue what I was talking about!

After my match, I go over and watch him give a little impromptu exhibition. If nothing else, I should have continued talking with him b/c his assistant was just crazy cute…