Do me a favor. Look at the object ball last.

And what's up with all the damn practice strokes?

Putz.

A couple of times each month during the past 30 months I've thought I was out of my slump. Not back to the pro-level shooting I'd briefly experienced, but at least back to the level I'd enjoyed for years prior to that magical two days. On these hopeful occasions I'd make three or four balls in a row and then excitedly set up the camcorder to capture whatever physical mannerism had turned out to be the secret to my game. The special arm angle, bridge length, or grip position that I'd so carelessly forgotten so long ago.

On each of those occasions my delusions of decency eventually evaporated. Sometimes an hour later, sometimes several days later. I'd start missing easy shots again, and getting shape would become the pipe dream of a has-been.

The jury is still out on this, perhaps the 75th time I've allowed myself to get my hopes up. For a couple of solid weeks now, except for a brief period the other day when I decided to table my trusty Schon for a while, I've played the way I'm supposed to play. The way I used to play.

To put it briefly, I run out when I'm supposed to. How strange it is to make that observation about my game after all this time. How wonderful to catch myself thinking "I'm out" instead of "I should be out" when the balls are open.

Pool, for now, is fun again. I no longer have to hide inside my banks game, where misses are expected, to cloak my inability to make even the easiest shots, to see even the easiest patterns, in other games.

Though this latest streak began a few days before my Seattle trip, I still give that trip all the credit for my recent resurgence. The enthusiasm with which I looked forward to playing against my friends in Seattle, or simply being around "pool people" again, was something I was desperately missing - even though I didn't know I was missing it.

Maybe the monkey is finally off my back. I'm not willing to say it just yet. The memory of all those other disappointments still stings and makes me cautious. I don't know what will have to happen before I'm willing to declare that my game is back for good. Perhaps it will come to me gradually, a persistent level of competence that I'll eventually realize has become my "real game" and is not just indicative of another hot streak. Or maybe I'll experience an epiphany during my practice some night. I'll simply drop into stroke and never look back.

As I said, the jury is still out. I can see the light at the top of the well, but I haven't quite pulled myself out yet. I just hope I don't fall to the bottom again.

Time to go practice.

Tonight I played with my Schon for the first time since it was shipped back from Seattle. Before tonight I'd been continuing to play with my Predator since I'd been doing so well with it during my "good cue's" absence.

My game fell apart. I don't really understand it, since I did play fairly well in Seattle with the Schon, but tonight I overhit everything and missed most halfway tough shots.

The weight on the cues is the same, but the Predator's balance point is a couple of inches closer to the butt (he he, I said butt) than the one on the Schon. Apparently this is enough to make a huge difference with certain stroke styles, because when I started shooting with my Predator again everything fell back into place.

For further expermentation I played an APA race to 7, Schon Me against Predator Me. While the results of one race are certainly not conclusive, they can still be pretty informative (or damning) at times.

Predator Me: 7 games, 2 safeties - .714 innings/game
Schon Me: 1 game, 3 safeties - 4.0 innings/game

That's better than four times as good playing with the Predator, and it doesn't even take into account how much more relaxed I was with that cue. It's amazing how much easier the game becomes when confidence is on your side.

So anyway, for now at least, I've decided to practice my non-banks games with the Predator. My banks game still seems to like the Schon.

Of course, if the pattern holds true, all this will change before too long as my newfound shooting style stops working and I migrate to something else.

Today I strung together five racks of 8-ball for the first time in nearly three years. Still shooting with the little short stroke and for some reason my alignment is still good even without the cue's motion to check it against.

I'm still not willing to declare that "I'm back" completely, but it feels pretty good to be this close again.

Found myself tonight at my sister's Halloween party discussing pool with a friend of her boyfriend.

I'd played this guy once, about two months ago, and he made a very nice run and beat me in a game of 8-ball. Anyway, during the course of the conversation I ended up inviting him to my house to play. What I had forgotten, in my Cone Smoker induced stupor, is that my 8-ball game sucks.

Now I'll have to work on my 8-ball game to avoid making a fool out of myself. This will of course cut into my banks practice, and with the Derby City Classic coming up I need all the banks practice I can get.

Fortunately the little mini-streak of good shooting that began a week ago continues. I can say with confidence that I'm playing better right now than I've played in nearly three years. I have yet to drop into dead stroke again, but the balls are being pocketed with pretty good regularity, and that leaves me free to loosen up a little and allow my position play to fall into place.

I appreciated your e-mail, and tried to respond, but my response bounced several times. I decided that it would be less rude to post my response here than to seemingly ignore it.

> Dear Mr. Siltz,

Mr. Siltz was my father. I'm just Dave.

> I've just spent an enjoyable, and humbling, half hour perusing
> your pages dedicated to billiards. I've added your site to
> my list of favorite links and look forward to reading the rest
> of them soon.

Well thank you very much for the site feedback.

> We are at opposite ends of the pool spectrum. I'm 52 and just
> starting to play. Oh, I've swung a stick at a ball from time
> to time over the years, but I doubt I've averaged more than an
> hour a week over the last decade, even though I have my own
> table. Recently I've discovered that I derive more satisfaction
> from shooting than I do almost anything else and have decided
> to make a commitment to this noble sport. At least I'd planned
> to until watching some of your shot making. I can't believe
> I'll ever be able to do anything close to what you've
> demonstrated.

Until a couple of years ago I couldn't bank a ball to save my life.
Amazingly, all it took was practice, practice and more practice. I'f
back then I'd seen a movie of somebody banking nine in a row I'd have
bet anything that I'd never be able to do that.

> I've recently read a debate in a billiard forum about which
> is the best chalk. What surprised me was that no one mentioned
> how humidity effects a chalk's performance. Someone finding
> Master's Blue to feel muddy in Florida's humidity might discover
> it's quite dry and, well, chalky in my extremely dry location
> in Southern California's high desert. It seemed to me that much
> of the disagreement might be the result of the chalks being
> effected by environmental conditions. When you have the time,
> I would appreciate hearing your thoughts about this. Is there
> a best chalk for humid conditions? A better one in dry?

When I was in New Orleans I switched to Triangle chalk, reasoning that
the harder chalk would not absorb moisture as readily. I don't know
if it really did any good though it does seem to make sense.

> Thank you for putting together a first rate site. I'll forward
> it to my friends and, with your permission, add a link to it on
> the modest pool page I plan to add to my own site.

Thanks again.

A little respect. It's what we all need, and us pool players are no different. We don't need to be the very best, though it would be nice. We don't need to be ranked the highest, as self-gratifying as that may be. We don't need to make a living from playing, though that is almost every serious player's dream.

What we need is respect. Self respect and respect from others. Self respect is the easy part. You work hard, practice diligently, put those hundreds or even thousands of hours in, and you see the improvement in your play. You accomplish something that thousands of social players never even try - you get good.

Next comes the hard part - getting others to acknowledge or even notice what you've done. Getting their respect. Respect for taking responsibility for your own game and taking it to the next level. Sometimes this respect is hard to come by. The people you started playing with, the ones that are still stuck in (and quite content in) the ball-banger mentality are often loathe to acknowledge that you've accomplished more with your game than they have. By acknowledging your success they're obliquely calling attention to their own failings.

At the other end of the spectrum are the accomplished players. They have to accept you as one of them, thus diluting their own ranks as pool's elite.

I'm happy to say that I've managed, at different times in my life, to gain the respect of beginners and accomplished players alike. Gaining the respect of even the professionals is not completely out of the question for me, should I ever manage to take my game to the next level.

Where I sit right now is what I'd call the "Damn Good Social Player" level of play. In the bars I've frequented I've usually been the best player there. At the pool hall the better players will play against me if nobody better is around. I have the respect of my peers, and that's what I think we're all playing for deep down.

If I ever manage to make the leap, to pull myself to the next plateau and beyond (damn mixed metaphors), I'll have an easier time than before because I've been through it all before. People will be more able to accept me at those levels because I've already passed through the earlier ones. In other words, my time in the minor leagues will help to prepare the way to the majors, should I decide that that's the route I want to take. Basketball players who've already made a name for themselves in college are more readily accepted than those who get drafted right out of high school. Pool is the same way, just not as formal.

I know a guy in Seattle named YouKnowWhoYouAre*, who has reached the same level of play that I occupy. For whatever reason he has seemed to have a harder time getting the respect he deserves. I've been as guilty as anyone of belittling YouKnowWhoYouAre, always in a joking manner but perhaps not completely without malice. I've known YouKnowWhoYouAre for nearly a decade, and in that time he's gone from a rank beginner to a top league player. In that same amount of time I've either been stagnant or maybe even dropped a little in ability. My banks game has improved tremendously, but 8-ball, which used to be my bread and butter, has become a real struggle for me. I can no longer walk into a bar and assume I'm the big fish in that particular little pond. In many cases I'm not. In some little ponds the big fish is YouKnowWhoYouAre, and that's a little hard for me to swallow.

But swallow it I must. My obsession with making an immediate jump to the next level, to repeat what I briefly did nearly three years ago, has stalled my game. YouKnowWhoYouAre, meanwhile, has continued his steady improvement and has managed to surpass me at times. He is the tortoise to me, the hopeful hare.

I don't have to like it, I just have to accept it. And recognize it. Give YouKnowWhoYouAre the respect he's earned. So, well done, YouKnowWhoYouAre. You've become a Damn Good Social Player. What you do next is up to you, and I'm convinced that you can go as far as you want.

Enjoy the respect you've earned. Just don't get too complacent. Because before you know it some young upstart with a nice stroke but no brains will come to you seeking respect. You'll have to decide when they've earned it.

And don't be so busy watching your back that your peers all move on without you.

Oh yeah, don't forget about me either. I'll be back looking to kick your ass just like the old days, so at least try to make it a challenge for me.

It may seem like your pond now, YouKnowWhoYouAre, but I saw it first. You're lucky I'm willing to let you swim there while I'm away.

* name changed to protect the guilty

When I found out that I'd be coming to Seattle I nearly panicked. All of my friends there know me as an 8-ball player, but my 8-ball game sucks donkey dicks. As soon as I found out about the trip I stopped my regular banking practice and started an 8-ball practice regimen like I haven't done in years.

Well that practice paid off. Sort of. What ended up happening is that I played okay, but not great. Good enough to win, but not good enough to make my opponents cry or break their cues. Can't win 'em all, isn't that the saying?

On Saturday, The Sports Pub (my old Kent WA hangout) was quite crowded and I ended up playing some scotch-doubles with Gene against a couple of 5-6 level players. Gene and I won nearly every game in so-so fashion. It was expected by everyone but me, since I'm the only one who's known how bad my non-banking skills have become. I usually made the shots I should have made, and I usually left the cueball where Gene had a decent followup shot. This was a relief for me as I was geniunely concerned that I'd miss every time I shot.

The next afternoon Gene and I went to a pool hall to play against each other without the distractions and rhythm-breaking that partners play provides.

Our original plan was to play one-pocket, and we did play five or six games of that, with each of us winning two or three. At one point I missed a couple of easy shots and felt my alignment going away. I asked Gene if we could play one game of banks so I could get my stroke back. One game turned into several, and banks is all we played for the next four hours.

We were playing on a Gold Crown IV, the first time I've had that pleasure. And what a pleasure it was. Now I love my Diamond table, but it's pretty well known by those who've tried it that Diamonds bank weird. Banks go short no matter how shallow the angle. You can get used to it, but it just seems weird.

This Gold Crown banked the way a table should. Shortening up at steep angles but letting the ball go long at shallow angles or at low speeds.

I went into a state that's about as close as you can get to dead stroke playing bank pool. I made a zillion 3s, a few 4s, and even a 5 or two. Gene kept saying he was enjoying the games, and I certainly was, so we kept playing.

I didn't get the serious straight-shot making practice I'd been planning on, but I did get to spend several hours playing with someone who enjoys playing as much as I do. To top it off I was fortunate enough to play quite well while I was at it.

I'm practicing 8-ball tonight, trying again to get somewhat ready for playing my friends in Seattle. I'm playing with my Predator since I shipped my Schon to Seattle yesterday (It got there thank the pool gods) and I cannot miss a ball.

I've always had a problem with constantly changing shooting styles, and tonight was I think a new one even for me.

Little bitty stroke, a couple of inches on most shots, four or five inches when I needed to get some cueball movement.

Every shot went in, and the cueball stopped exactly where I wanted. It was 8-ball the way it's supposed to be played, 8-ball the way I USED to play it.

Now I'm so excited that I cannot sleep and I've got a flight in the morning.

If I can somehow stay in the zone after travelling 2000 miles, shooting with a different cue, on a tiny 8-foot big-pocketed bar table, I'll be just about as happy with my game as I've been in nearly three years.

But for now I've got to try to get some sleep or the jet lag will kill me tomorrow night.

I shipped my cues to Gene in Seattle today so I don't get hassled by any airport security this weekend.

I guess I'm a little worried about them getting lost or damaged. It's happened before. I did insure them for quite a bit though.

So anyway, for the next couple of days I'm stuck with playing with my Predator cue. Not that I hate it or anything - it's just not the same. Tha balance is all wrong and it's too light. I was originally going to ship it to Seattle instead of my regular cue but at the last minute decided that to have the best chance of doing well there I'd need my most familiar equipment.