The American Spectator

Hallelujah!

What a joy it is to read someone waxing fondly about the joys of the game of pool. Though I never actually hung out in seedy urban pool halls, I identified with most everything else Mr. Henry wrote. Coveting a table as a boy … taking the game up seriously in college … getting a whole new taste of what “good” really meant … and “wasting” many, many hours honing my game (and gambling away my grocery money) when I should have really have been doing something else.

When my buddies and I weren’t playing pool, we were watching “The Hustler” on video (VCRs weren’t common on campus yet, but my roommate had one). I think I read the book version at least 10 times during my college years. It’s a wonder I never flunked out. (Technically, I did once, but managed to petition my way back in for a second chance.) I once spent $300 (an ungodly amount for a college student in the late '80s) for a pool cue, because I coveted it so. I still have it, and long considered it my “prize possession.”

Like Mr. Henry, I haven’t played seriously in a long time, probably for many of the same reasons. I also share his opinions regarding comparisons to golf. Golf and pool were my two favorite sports for ages, and when asked to choose a favorite I would typically reply, “You know, just because it’s played in the sunshine and on green golf, I’d probably go with golf. But based purely on how much I enjoy it and how it engages you, I’d say pool.” I’d be hard pressed to name a sport or game that requires such intense concentration for unbroken periods of time. In golf, you have all that time between shots to relax and mentally prepare. In pool, when it’s your turn at the table, there’s no let-up. It draws you in like nothing else, and suddenly it’s 2:00 in the morning.