Title possibilities
A Masse Shot / A Surprise Ending
Polymath
On a drab and boring Friday afternoon in late November, Julian Smysor and I decided to skip our last class in PK Yonge High School and head to Robbie's Pool Hall. Robbie's was long established, on the second floor of a small commercial building across from the campus of the University of Florida, and frequented often by the pool-playing crowd. In that era, lots and lots of folks played the game. Julian and I were best friends, and spent much of our time together. in addition to being the starting guards on the junior varsity basketball team, we wasted immeasurable time on Julian's Jawa 125cc motorcycle, riding all over, usually with my .22 caliber rifle, plinking bottles, stray cats, and the occasional mail box. We were both superior shots. Somehow that fall we had channeled some of our energy and time into the game of pool, and felt we had about mastered the game. We had been playing regularly, all about Gainesville, but really preferred to shoot at Robbie's. In the small town, we were well known.
For all of my adult life I had know some of the history of my father, Earl Campbell May. After he graduated from the University of Kentucky in 1928 he purchased a small pool hall across from the University, using funds he had accumulated over the years from trapping muskrats, which were tanned and turned into coats. The furry critters were plentiful in the wilds of the Bluegrass State. Beginning in grade school he set several lines of traps, which he checked before school. Some months he made more money that his father, a professor of engineering at the University. Father was a go-getter. He elaborated about his enterprise with six pool tables, and told of renting lots of skates and bicycles. In the back he had four slot machines, which were quasi-legal at that time. The slots were owned by some nefarious syndicate, and father told of two locks on each machine, with each partner having keys to only his lock. The coins were counted weekly. Father acknowledged banking over $500 cash each month. In 1929 this was substantial money ... his professor father made but $400 a month. Father said little of his pool prowess, but obviously was not without some skill.
At our daily family suppers I had spewed forth my enthusiasm for the new game to me of pool. Several times I had invited father to come shoot a round with us. I was feeling cocky, and wanted to demonstrate my skill at the popular game. At breakfast that Friday I had once again extended the invitation, noting that Julian and I would be at Robbies.
In the pool hall Julian and I had just finished a game of "rotation", and had called for Robbie to rack the balls, when in walked my dad. As always, he was impeccably dressed in coat and speckled red tie, and had on stylish two-tone shoes. Greeting us, he mentioned that he had but a short time to play, since he had an appointment at the school (he sold life insurance to college professors). Julian, knowing I wanted to play with my dad, dropped out. "Father", I said, "what do you want shoot?" referring to what game we might play. "Straight pool, of course" he answered without hesitation. Straight pool is a "call-pocket" game, meaning the player must indicate the intended object ball and pocket on every shot. This is the most popular pool game to gamble on (as per the movie "The Hustler"). Straight pool is a grand and glorious game, the king and queen of all pool games. Beginners do not play straight pool. 15 balls are racked, and the shooter continues to sink any ball until he misses. After 14 balls are sunk, the other 14 balls are re-racked, and the shooter continues.
"Father, why don't you shoot first?" I offered. Father had carefully chosen his que stick, after fiddling with several. Chalking up the tip he said, "No way son, this game, like all games, needs to be played by the rules. We shall lag for who shoots first" Lagging demands each player strike a ball across the table and have it return to a particular line on the felt top of the table. Closest to the line shoots first. Father was closest. He tucked his tie into this shirt and whacked the que ball into the triangular mass of touching 15 balls. His ball rocketed into the balls with such a force I had never before seen on a pool table. The sound was akin to the report of a large caliber weapon. Several balls dropped into pockets. My eyes were wide. I was breathless. Julian looked at me and rolled his eyes. Methodically, carefully, father chose his next shot ... and his next shot. When 13 balls had been pocketed, he carefully chose his last shot, leaving an easy mark for the break. By now Robbie and several others were looking on. The balls racked, he easily sank the "out ball", then proceeded to sink all the others, never missing once. One shot required him to curve the que ball, called a masse shot. He did it with panache, as though this was an everyday event. I had never seen such a pool shot! I was flabbergasted, as were the onlookers. After running the table three times, he straightened up, wiped the chalk dust from his hands with his handkerchief, and announced that he had to depart for his appointment. "Thanks," I said, as father nonchalantly departed, giving the crowd a snappy salute. I had not made a single shot. Inwardly, I was overflowing with joy - I did not have to demonstrate my lack of skill. Never ever again did I face my dad at a pool table...there was no need. To this day I am somewhat intimidated when I sidle up to the 8 by 4 green felt.
About 15 years later it was announced in The Florida Alligator that there would be an exhibition match at the University between Willie Mosconi and some local talent. Father entered a competition to shoot against Mosconi, but faltered in the semi-finals. ( Mosconi won the World Straight Pool Championship for 15 consecutive years, and holds the record for sinking 526 consecutive balls Earl -"Popa" - had many talents. etc Next Chapter Despite his broken back and a lifetime of pain as a cripple, never once did anyone ever hear him complain or mention his injury.
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