Photo by Russell Ferrer on Unsplash
Leader of the invasion. That's how Jose Parica was described when I first saw him. It seemed like an ethnic slight, because Jose Parica was from the Philippines. Later I learned the introduction was actually a compliment, an homage to a man who occupied a special place in the world of professional pool players. Jose Parica had been the first in a wave of star players from the Philippines who came to compete in U. S. tournaments.
My husband and I were attending the U. S. Open Pool Championship when I heard that introduction. This was an annual event held in Chesapeake, Virginia that attracted pool players from all over the world.
Jose Parica eventually became my favorite player, not on that trip to Chesapeake but on a subsequent trip. Every October my husband and I would make the drive from New York to Chesapeake. We'd stay at the Holiday Inn, which was next door to the Chesapeake Convention center, where the tournament was held most years.
My husband was a champion amateur player, but I knew nothing about pool, at first. I never did learn to play, but I did learn about pool strategy. That was the most surprising part of my initiation into the world of pool. Pool is like chess. You have to anticipate the possible moves of your opponent many plays in advance.
Another surprise was the decorum observed by pool players. There is an agreed upon culture of sportsmanship. As is true of all sports, some players were more observant of the unwritten rules of the game than others.
I became familiar with who the luminaries of pool were in my many trips. Efrem Reyes, from the Philippines was (and still is) regarded as almost a national hero in his home country. Earl Strickland was methodical on his good days, erratic on his bad. Even today, Earl Strickland draws a crowd because of his unpredictable, though often brilliant technique.
Jose Parica had come close to winning the U. S. Open in the past but had not quite managed to capture the title. The tournament plaque is coveted in the world of pool much as gold bracelets are valued by contestants in the World Series of Poker.
The year Jose Perica became my favorite pool player, and perhaps my favorite sportsman, I witnessed a remarkable display of grace.
Jose was doing well in the tournament when he was paired up in a match with a young man whose inexperience was apparent in his demeanor and in his level of skill. Jose wielded his pool cue with his customary cool and focus. The young man was tall and slight, a contrast to Jose's compact stature, but his shoulders seemed to slump. With every miscue they seemed to slump even further.
Each match between players consisted of eleven games. The first player to win eleven games, won the match and advanced closer to the winner's circle.
Jose took the first game. The second game. The third game. The young kid grew ever more tentative in his step and in his play. He began to miss shots where good opportunity existed. Jose continued to rack up the wins.
Seventh game. Eighth game. Ninth game. If there had been a hole in the floor the young player would have crawled into it. The match was attracting attention. No doubt bets were placed on the outcome, a lot of bets because of Jose's reputation.
Tenth game came. Jose's victory was certain. The young man's humiliation was nearly complete. That's when I saw grace.
Jose threw the game. There was no doubt about it in my mind about the way that happened. The shot was easy. Jose blew it off when he 'missed'. The young man rose from his seat, jubilant. There was a bounce in his step. Jose had given him something to go home with, a win, even just one game, in a match with Jose Parica at the U.S. Open.
Of course Jose won the next games, and took the match. But now the contest was no longer a rout. Jose's ego was large enough to give up the coveted 11-0 win. And the boy went home with some of his pride intact.
Recently I saw Jose Parica participate in a pool tournament that was streamed live on the Internet. He was now a Hall of Fame member. Everyone in the room paid him great respect. The television announcers spoke about his long and successful career in the world of pool. They were acknowledging a player who would not likely ever see another tournament win, but who would always hold a storied place in the annals of pool.
When I heard Jose's play that day was live streamed, I remained glued to the computer. There was no way for him to know or care that a lady in New York was paying her respects, not because he was a great player, or because he was the leader of the invasion. It was because he had given her the pleasure, years before, of witnessing an instance of grace and rare kindness.
The Inkwell has kicked off an interesting experiment this week. We are inviting writers to post creative non-fiction pieces. I thought I'd write something that was based on a memorable experience I had, years ago. The prompt this week is travel, so I wrote to that. If you would like to know more about our creative nonfiction initiative, refer to this week's prompt post. I'm betting there are amazing stories waiting to be written in our community.