The
Pool
Hall
Story by Perry Cozzen.
Illustration by
Gary Oliver.
F
irst you need to work hard all day,
wash off the dirt, comb your hair,
put on clean clothes, and try to
always have a good ride into town.
Catch the sundown on the way to
town, blow it out a little, kick her in neu-
tral, coast the last mile or so, and come in
smooth and quiet. Cruise the drive-in
hamburger joints, drive through down-
town, ice down a little beer, and pull in
at the pool hall. Check which cars are
parked outside, glance around when you
walk in at who’s on the tables, find your
stick, grab a chair, lean your stick against
the wall, and wait on a game.
This was not just a pool hall: it was a
Recreation Club, it had four snooker
tables in the front, two pool tables
toward the back, a couple of domino
tables across from them, guns for sale far-
ther back, and a café all the way back.
You had to be a white male and at
least sixteen to be in there, but people
didn’t pay much attention to age in those
days.
22
Nobody played eight ball except the
kids just learning, and the money domi-
no game was a couple of blocks away.
They played for fifty cent pieces down
there, and some had half pints in their
Cenizo
Second Quarter 2018
back pockets.
There were just a few real good
snooker players, but that’s the game you
wanted if you were trying to get better.
You’ll shoot better pool if you’re play-
ing somebody good, and they might
even show you or tell you something you
can use, but don’t ask.
Snooker will prepare you for life.
You’ll learn concentration, coordination