Winning Ugly

Last night was the APA team 8 ball match.
It was a struggle.

My mojo was late at the gate, again.
It was a full moon, and cold outside.
Our table was by the door,
so I got lots of chilly drafts
while I was waiting for my match.
When I get cold, it's tough to shoot.
I'm tense, nervous, shaking.
And it's tough to warm up again.

Finally, I'm playing #3 match,
with Ripley,
who has tested me before, maybe twice.
Although I have won, it was a struggle,
so I was expecting more of the same.
And I got it.

He won the first game. I got the second.
He won the third game. I got the fourth.

My break was ineffective
yielding multi-cluster racks, no runouts,
and lots of safeties.

The tables had brand new Simonis 860 cloth,
so they were extra fast,
and the balls tend to skid.

I was having trouble with my right eye.
Burning and itching,
possibly from the cigarette smoke
of the addicts just outside the door,
who seem to need to blow out
the last lungfull of smoke
as they re-enter the bar
right by our table.

I didn't say anything about it,
because I have learned to only speak positive,
to never give voice to a possible excuse.

I did make a couple of nice shots,
but on the whole I was working hard.
There was no flow.

El Maestro's advice:
Trust your stroke.
Shoot soft.
Let the other guy make the mistakes.

My thinking was clouded, it seems,
because El Maestro used a few timeouts
to coach me on strategy.

It helped a lot.
I won, 5-3.

Gracias, El Maestro.

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