Among the first powerful memories I have from my childhood would be my Dad teaching me the right way to maintain a pool match cue. Dad would not confess to being a ‘shark’ or to ‘hustling’ but as I got older the signs became clearer. After, what seemed for years, of staring longingly in the clues dangling majestically on the wall that I was being given the opportunity to understand just how to use one. My Dad had long since attained the grade of player where he can create, what I know to be easy shots, using just about any cue stick. This wasn’t to say he did not realize the size of the value of choosing the ideal pool cue. This wasn’t a privilege to be taken lightly and course where to get my up-most attention.

I’d listened, with starry eyes to tales of Dad going into the pool hall, as a young adult, perfecting his craft and walking off rewarded with extra jingle in his pocket. It’s possible to imagine the miracle of a child – somebody was compensated for playing a match! Really? This I needed to learn more about.

First things first. Dad taught me to select a pool stick cue from the rack pool stick. Knowing that he needed his ‘unique’ best pool cue, I clued into the fact that this decision held some significance. I picked up a 42 inch, 1 piece cue with diamond molding on the rotating shaft and seemed to Dad for acceptance. His reply was, ‘How does this feel?’ It felt as though I had been holding the holy grail! I was overwhelmed with the privilege instead of really understanding what he meant by ‘sense’.

He showed me the way to make a ‘crook’ with my hands set on the table along with my index finger lifted and with my head forming a circle to the cue to slip, making certain as I drew it backward and forwards the cue remained true and didn’t wobble. Like most things, it was much more difficult to perform than that which my Dad made it seem. In doing so he had been teaching me the value of manipulating the cue easily to finish a fresh shot. Now that I wasn’t really hitting on a cue ball, simply practicing my posture, hand position and stoke. He explained, ‘the pool stick should feel as a part of you, imagine it is your next arm, behave as a single unit to hit on the cue ball’ Here finished his very first lesson. I had been compelled to practice hitting on the ball that was fanciful.

Over the subsequent months I looked forward to my classes. Learning the various hand positions, angle shots, bank shots, etc.. As I young adolescent I could proudly declare that I’d perfected the fluke shot! The next lesson was that many games didn’t let flukes and predict shot was the typical rule. I learned the significance of the angles onto the dining table and unexpectedly geometry did not look so dull! As I grew up swimming pool with Dad was our bonding period. It became the place for him not just to pass his love and understanding of the game, however he told tales of his childhood and gave guidance to issues that only seemed easier to talk if pocketing the eight ball.

Following the previous fork filled with dessert of a holiday dinner was swallowed the query constantly followed ‘Whose to get a game of pool’ We had all line up and go down to the pool desk to maintain our place on the score board. Dad spent several hours educating his kids and consequently their kids (even a few great-grandchildren) the way to play pool. Most of us realize what a superb privilege it had been and we treasure the gorgeous memories we have of bonding with him within many different games of Snooker and Billiards, which became this kind of family heritage.

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