Pro Pool Workout
#8
In this issue and the next, I’d like to take a break from the ongoing
subject matter and take a look at a completely different aspect of pool
competition. I call it “Playing
with the Big Dogs.”
What is it like to draw a champion in a tournament? What does it feel like? What kind of thoughts do you have? What goes on inside when you have to play a higher-ranked player?
When I was asked to write this story, I knew it was going to be an effort. I had tightness in my stomach and pressure in my head just thinking about it. I didn’t want to look at the subject matter and every time I tried, I ended up at Big Boys with a chocolate malt and a Brawny Lad sandwich.
Finally, I realized that if the subject could drive me to comfort food, it was probably what I needed most to examine. If I could get to the bottom of it all, perhaps it would even help me in my next match. So I resolved to explore it in a rigorous fashion and share the results with you on a personal basis.
The match that came to mind was when I drew Troy Frank in the first round of the 2001 U.S. Open. I knew late the night before, as I practiced in the main tournament room, that I was going to play him in the morning. On the way to my motel I stepped into a smaller practice room to see who was there. It was completely empty except for Troy on one table and a female player on the other. Troy glanced my way and I realized he also knew we were playing in the morning. Neither of us said a word as I took a chair behind a spectator table, propped my chin up on my hands, and commenced to watch him.
The presence of another person, for most of us, has an impact on our inner dialogue, our state of mind, and our ability to concentrate. Particularly if it’s a competitor. Without really thinking about it, I sat down to see if my presence had an effect on him and to give me an opportunity to get comfortable with his presence.
I was feeling good. I had just practiced to the point of “getting in stroke” and I was confident about my game. As I watched Troy for the next few minutes, I made a familiar observation. As far as I could tell, I could run balls just as well as he could. In fact, on practice tables, I believe I’ve held my own with a number of champions.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to express that skill consistently in tournaments, which is why I’m writing this article.
There was one thing I wasn’t thinking about while watching Troy, but I was certainly aware of it on some level. Troy has reached a higher level in pool competition than I have. He has won several tournaments, most notable one of the Derby City Nine-Ball Championships. I wasn’t consciously intimidated by him, but I knew he was the favored player.
After a few minutes, I resolved to give him my best game in the morning and that included getting a good night’s sleep. I left the practice room and retired to my motel.
I thought about the match as soon as I woke up. We were scheduled for ten o’clock so I left the motel around eight for a light breakfast near the tournament site. I was still feeling confident and planned to get a solid 1/2 hour warm up before the match.
My game plan was simple. I was going to play very conservatively in the beginning of the match and in the front part of each game. It is fatal, I have learned, to attempt risky shots in the beginning if you are playing a good player. The front part of a match is a struggle for control and if you give it away by taking a flyer, it’s very hard to get back into the game.
When I got to the tournament room, there was a group of players and other people standing in the hallway in front of a television. It was so unusual, that I walked over to see. The World Trade Center was in flames! It was unbelievable and shocking. I don’t know how long I watched before I remembered my match and went into the tournament room.
The following sounds callous, but I believe it speaks for the one-pointedness that constant training will develop in a pool player. Although I was stunned by the events in New York, I don’t believe their significance penetrated very deeply into my consciousness at the time. I was too geared up for competition. During my actual match I never thought about it once. When it was over, however, like all the other players, I rushed back to the television.
I believe Troy won the lag, but I had the first strategic shot of the match. It was a one-ball cut into the side, made more difficult by the top-right english required to get on the two-ball. I had a minor concern about it, but decided to shoot it. I was surprised when the one-ball hit the point. I did not expect to miss, and even worse, I didn’t know why I did.
In the chair, I felt a flash of anger when I realized I had done exactly the opposite of my game plan. I had passed up a good safety to try something risky. Then I noticed the cue stick in my hand. I had shot the most important shot of the match with my break stick! I couldn’t believe it. Talk about tunnel vision.
For the next few minutes my attention was partially on the match, and partially on handling the upset I was having with myself. I think I lost two games before I realized I was racking the balls in the same order for Troy and he was making the same ball in the corner. When he completed his second run out, I racked them differently and he stopped making balls.
By now Troy had a sizable lead on me, but I still believed I could turn it around. I felt a tangible pressure. It seemed to be on my face, chest , and arms. Almost like I was being physically squeezed. I became aware of a friend in the bleachers and felt a quick wave of embarrassment before I could redirect my attention back to the game. Troy, I noticed, was getting looser and looser, shooting with more and more confidence.
I strengthened my resolve, and believe me, I don’t know what this means, or how I did it, but I did. The next few games were dogfights. Balls were not falling on the break and we fought back and forth for control. I am a good kicker, and won several of these battles, but failed to execute in two cases once I got control. One miss was a diagonal, table length shot with the ball almost in the jaws. I was completely stunned. I swore out loud to myself and that shocked me even further.
Although it probably looked to others as if my game was falling apart, I never gave up. I never surrendered. I even got my stroke out a little near the end, but it was too late. I ended up shaking Troy’s hand and congratulating him on his victory.
So what happened? I believe it boils down to several factors. I am a serious player. I work at my game every day, but I don’t get to compete often. Why? Because I have other responsibilities. Someone who is competing with world class players on a constant and exclusive basis has a substantial edge. He is tournament tough and ready to roll, while I have to “get ready.” This is not an insurmountable advantage, but it is an edge.
From a strategic point of view, a high-ranked player has more experience playing other top players. He has a better understanding of the crucial front match and front game options and a better command of himself in competition. In short, the more times you put yourself into the arena, the more you are going to learn. The remedy is simple. Keep on playing.
Lastly, and most important. A player who sees something inside himself believes these things will be accomplished, but has no agreement from the world. A player who has not attained these goals is in the position of being unproved. And the need to prove yourself is a devastating mistress. She can mess you up in so many ways. For me, the remedy to this phenomena is difficult and requires great maturity. It means I have to learn to play just for the sake of playing. It means I have to surrender my dreams to a higher power. If they become real, then they do. If they don’t, than other dreams will. Either way, life is miraculous and all paths lead to the same destination. Be sure to check out the next issue where I play another higher-ranked player, Jose Parica, and win! Good luck and good shootin’!