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In my last
column on pool and
Texas
Holdem
poker, I
related how pool was the area in which I initially
acquired many of my gambling skills. In this column, I
will tell you some more stories about my pool-shooting
days, and the lessons applicable to poker that I learned
from them.
A
renowned pool shark back then was the late Billy Joe
Burge, much better known as "Cornbread Red." There is a
book out calling him "pool's greatest money player."
Those of us who knew something about him, if we called
him pool's greatest anything, would use a different
adjective, but it is not my motive to malign the dead.
Besides, it was seldom his own money that he gambled
with.
At
any rate, I knew how Red played after I saw him come to
Bay City, Michigan, and annihilate my friend Dutch
Brennan, the best pool player in my neck of the woods.
When I lived in Detroit, I ran into Red one night in
around 1970 in an all-night restaurant in Hamtramck that
had several bar-size pool tables and was an after-hours
hangout for pool players. Red, who had seen me play,
offered to play me eight-ball one-handed (to my
two-handed) for 40 bucks a game. Despite the fact that
my opponent was one of the best players in the country,
he had, to put it bluntly, made me an offer that would
have been hard to refuse. I accepted.
It
is true that a great player shooting one-handed will
still be a fine shot-maker, especially if he has played
that way frequently, as I assume Red had. On the other
hand, it is next to impossible to draw the cue ball when
shooting one-handed, especially the heavy ball used on
bar tables. All of your positional play has to be done
with either stop or follow. A fine one-handed player
like Red is going to run out in eight-ball if you do him
the courtesy of making most of your own balls and then
missing, because getting position is now easy. He was
counting on my making some balls and then screwing up
the runout. I adopted the strategy of not even trying to
run the table unless it was an easy layout. Instead, I
shot in one of my opponent's balls, and left him
where he had no shot. (We were playing that this was
allowed; he had the option of shooting himself or making
me shoot again. In fact, he sometimes did the same thing
and shot in one of my balls. Doing this in a bar against
a stranger is inadvisable, and could be bad for your
thumbs.) After I got several of his balls out of the way
with this method, I went for the runout — which was much
easier with some obstacles gone — if my chances looked
bright. The game became one of strategy, knowing the
right time to go for the runout. My plan worked
perfectly. Red ran out of money, stiffed me the last
game I won (no surprise), and had to quit.
There is an important gambling lesson here. It is not
how well you play, but how you match up. This is
particularly important in games that involve a generally
recognized handicap method, like golf. But it also
applies to poker. I have seen some of the greatest
players take a seat in my pot-limit Omaha game for a
short time, waiting for a seat in their game of choice,
and throw a party. Either they did not know Omaha that
well or were unable to play their best game for stakes
less than they were used to. It is extremely important
that you not only be a good player, but also be in your
element and play your A-game.
One
night, in that same all-night restaurant, I was
approached by a player I did not know, and was invited
to play some eight-ball for $5 a game. I started out
playing "in the zone," beating him the first six games.
I missed only once, and managed to hook him behind one
of my balls when I did. At this point, he said, "Let's
up the bet to $10." I declined. He was either nuts or I
was in serious trouble. The latter turned out to be
true. When I failed to make a ball on the break, he ran
the next six racks, and I quit. It turned out that he
was a new player who had just arrived in Detroit from
Louisiana, where he was known as "The Swamp Fox." He was
a great pool player, several levels above me.
Sometimes, a man who is down will try to up the bet to
recover his losses. If you know how he plays, you might
want to go for the big score — assuming you know he has
the money to pay off. Much of the time, it is a good
move for you to agree to double the stakes. But if you
have been playing over your head and he still wants to
up the bet, it wouldn't hurt to be a little suspicious.
Here
is another story about after-hours pool playing. One of
my opponents from around that time was a guy nicknamed "Smitty,"
from Pontiac. We had played several times, and were
pretty competitive. One night I went up to Pontiac and
played some nine-ball against Smitty in a bar. I was
playing well, and was ahead at closing time. Smitty
wanted to keep playing, but he said that he did not want
to play even anymore; he wanted a spot.
I
said, "I can't give you anything, Smitty, you know
that."
"You're playing real good tonight; give me the eight
ball."
"No
way, but I'll tell you what I'll do. You can have the
eight ball, but instead of winner breaks, I get to break
the balls two out of every three racks."
Smitty agreed to this arrangement.
When
the big boys play pool, the break shot is a murderous
weapon. (The great Richie Ambrose once offered to play
me on a full-size table where I had the rails as my
pockets, but he got to break the balls. No thanks,
Richie.) However, at my level, the break is not nearly
as strong, and I did not know who would be the favorite.
But I had something going for me. If the arrangement
turned out to be in my favor, Smitty might still keep
playing, because he was stuck. If it favored him, I
would quit the game. So, I went for it.
Smitty took me to an all-night restaurant near Pontiac
that I had never been to, and we started to play. This
particular playing site turned out to be a trap — for my
opponent. The place had a 24-ounce house cue that I
could use to break the balls. That was only 4 ounces
heavier than my own cue stick, but a pool player will
appreciate this seemingly small amount of extra weight
making a huge difference. It is almost like being able
to whack something with a baseball bat instead of a
walking cane. The rack did not break open when my cue
ball hit; it exploded. On top of everything else, the
table had loose pockets, so I was making several balls
every time I broke. Smitty was a gone goose, no matter
how well he played. By dawn, I had all of his money.
Don't be afraid to try something new — maybe a different
form of poker or a different site. You can be willing to
take a chance as long as you have the self-control to
quit if things are not going to your liking. It would be
hard to find a more important quality for a gambler than
the ability to quit when finding yourself going uphill.
Are you a better player when you're tired than your
opponents are when they're fresh? Have the weakies quit,
leaving the game with only toughies remaining? Be a
smart gambler as well as a good Texas Holdem poker
player.
The
game of pool is a fine teacher of gambling skills. It
gave me a good foundation for playing poker. Most of the
stories I have told show me in a good light, but the
truth is, I made plenty of errors in gambling at pool.
However, I learned from my mistakes; they are more
educational than victories.
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