the killer instinct was beginning to wane,
so I took extra care with pre-match preparation
for last night's APA team 8 ball.
I guess it's what you should expect
when you prepare the most
that your preparations are most in vain.
Last night proved that rule.
I could go into a litany of all the uglies,
but that would be boring;
suffice it to say that if it could go wrong, it did.
Other than my match, that is,
which, when it finally got started,
at a time when I am normally finished and home,
it went reasonably well.
(5-2 vs. James Housewright, skill level 6)
I won the first two games,
and was feeling pretty good about it, but
he won the next two games
and I didn't like that one bit.
This meant that with the one game spot I gave him
I had to win 3 games, he needed 2.
And since he had just won the last 2,
he was on a roll, the energy going his way.
I had to close him down, hard.
Play only high percentage shots.
Play lockup safeties.
Bear down mentally.
Focus like a junk yard dog.
One memorable shot was a
3-rail, reverse english, table length maneuver
for squeaker position to get the runout.
I executed the tough shot perfectly,
but then screwed the pooch on the easy shot
(two feet, straight-in)
because I was trying to sweeten the po' on the next.
As Homer Simpson would say: "Doh!"
This seems to be some sort of Universal Law that
Spectacularly Awesome is followed by Spectacularly Dumb.
This may be why Einstein, while he got
The Special Theory of Relativity right,
he blew it with his Unified Field Theory
(look it up).
So far in this Summer Session,
my track record stands at 8 matches played, 8 won.
While I'm pleased with those numbers,
I am still living for the day when
perfection comes more easily,
the shots flow flawlessly,
I never have to stop and think,
and I never miss.
Dead stroke in competition!
Just one day like that would be nice...
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