My phone was ringing. I could hear it but I didn’t want to believe it so I ignored it. Eventually it stopped.
My phone was ringing again, and this time I could also faintly hear my name being called out. I thought that I should probably respond. Stretching and opening my eyes a peek, the sun streaming through my window was an attack I wasn’t prepared for. Fumbling for my phone I put it to my ear and heard a woman’s voice say ‘Are you ready?’
Instantly wide awake and in a mild state of panic I realised that I was late. I threw on some clothes and calling out to my friends that I’d be out in a minute, I cleaned my teeth and was out the door and into the heat so quickly that my body went into a kind of shock and the full weight of my hangover assaulted me. I collapsed onto the back seat of a beaten up 1980’s American sedan and the engine roared as Javier put his foot down.
Last night had been someone’s birthday or leaving party, or maybe just a normal Thursday night, I couldn’t tell you. Anyway I needed hydration, and said so as we drove off. Javier rumbled something but clearly had other ideas as he produced a fist full light beers from a cooler by his feet. A bottle was thrust into my hand; a shout of ‘salud’ was issued and I was honour bound to follow my hosts lead and down the ice cold light beer in two gulps. It was 8:30.
Surprisingly the light beer did ease my symptoms a little but I was dismayed when a few minutes later Javier produced another fist full of beers and handed them out. Also in the car was my good friend Julio, his wife and their son who was to be baptised. Julio hadn’t been out with us the night before and his eyes glistened with glee as he saw my face. He raised his bottle in salute and downed it with relish then watched to make sure I drank mine. By the time we arrived at the church we had drunk half a case of beer and I was not having fun.
It was a particularly hot day, at least it seemed so to me. The sun streamed through the leaves of the trees scattered around the church, dappling the paving with moving shadows. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best; the men looking serious in their shirts and trousers and the women shone as brightly as the morning sun in their floating floral dresses.
I was handed one more beer which was swiftly downed before we were ushered into the church. The service began with a hymn, I didn’t know the words but mouthed along with the others as they sang. I stifled a yawn and fantasised about stretching out in front of the TV in my air conditioned hotel room with an ice cold soft drink in my hand. The hymn ended and I was jolted back to reality as we sat back down and I sweated my way through the hour long service. It was a nice occasion for my friends but I couldn’t wait to get home and crawl into bed.
The service concluded and after the customary round of photos outside I assumed that I would be excused. Not so. Javier cheerfully took me to one side and rumbled something about a game of pool. I was in a bit of a daze and didn’t really have any acceptable reason to say no so followed him to the car and watched as he opened yet another light beer for each of us as he drove off. Julio and his wife, along with the rest of the guests were heading back to Julio’s place for a party. We would meet them there later.
Javier drove us down some pretty dodgy looking back streets and pulled up next to a door shaped hole in the wall with a faded beer sign pinned next to it. The hole led down into a dark and narrow bar which faced an equally narrow room with four pool tables lined up end to end. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I saw the bar was full of hard faced men. The distinctive outline of pistols stuffed into waistbands could be seen on more than one of the occupants. Ignoring the frosty atmosphere I threw out a general greeting as I walked in, not too loud but not timid either. My cheer was met with stony stares.
I quickly walked over to where Javier was standing and stood quietly to observe the room. He nudged me and pointed to a blackboard upon which he had chalked in my name after his then trotted off to order beer. I began to suspect that this excursion was a consequence of the ill-fated sharking trip I missed a couple of months before. I wasn’t exactly sure of Javier’s motives but I’m almost certain that he was here to enjoy some form of revenge.
Now, I like playing pool but had no idea which variation of the game was being played here and, knowing my companion by now, there was bound to be betting involved. I asked what the game was and was told it was called 53, the idea being to score 53, each ball has a number on it and is scored at face value. The person who scores the most wins. Ok, I thought, relax and see what happens.
The beers kept coming.
The guy on the table that everyone was trying to beat was a skinny chap. He had a droopy moustache and bad teeth and he smelled strongly of cologne, well, cologne and cigarettes. He was good, but also lucky and I wondered how he would fare against Javier who I observed chalking his cue in anticipation as the skinny winner slotted home the final ball to win yet again.
On a good day Javier was virtually unbeatable. He played with a lazy style, never getting too low over the cue, though now that I think about it his huge gut would make bending over an unrealistic proposition anyway. He was never inventive with his shots but the guy could pot from just about anywhere. Unfortunately for him, today was not a good day and in short order Skinny Winner sent him packing. I saw 20Bs (about $2.50 at that time) change hands so at least I knew what the stakes were as I approached the table for my turn.
The beers kept coming.
As I walked up to the table there were mutters and curious stares. I was not unused to this but considering those who were staring, I felt a little more nervous. I approached Skinny Winner and offered my hand which was ignored as he thrust his chin towards me, stared for a moment at my missing left arm and barked something at me so fast that I only caught the word ‘double’ and mistakenly responded with ‘20Bs no?’ His face darkened so much so that I stepped back. Javier swiftly intervened and explained that Skinny Winner had said that if I failed to pot any balls I must pay him double.
I breathed a sigh of relief and gesturing to Skinny Winner that I understood, the game began. As the challenger I was to break and having selected the best available cue and given the tip a generous rub with the chalk, I got down to set up the shot. At the critical moment my cue slipped slightly then there was a hideous ‘twang’ as I struck the cue ball a glancing blow and sent it spinning off to one side. There were chuckles as it bounced and rolled slowly into the pack.
I was mortified and could feel my neck getting warm as my blood pressure increased. Skinny Winner slotted home thee balls giving him 27 then missed the 11 and it was my turn. I got down to try an easy shot into the bottom left corner and once again made a complete mess of it. This time there was open derisive laughter and a few less than friendly comments. I was starting to feel worried for my safety.
It has happened before that pool table opponents have felt insulted when I play, especially if I’m winning but even when I lose it can be seen as an affront that I even put myself forward as a challenger to begin with. I’m not quite sure why this happens but I have had to deal with some delicate sensibilities over the green baize and have learnt the hard way that playing against people whom I don’t know can be hazardous to my health so care must always be taken.
A few minutes later Skinny Winner missed the 12 but not before adding another 11 points on his score with a thundering long table shot which saw the white ball leap up into the air a good ten inches. My opponent, it seemed, was trying to make a point. I was in trouble and was finding it hard to concentrate through the haze of all the light beer, not to mention last night’s excesses. Adopting my best poker face I considered my situation. I needed to pot all the remaining balls or I would lose. If I failed to pot even one, I was unsure that I would make it out of the bar unscathed.
I stepped up to the table and chalked my cue as I looked at the lay of the balls. I took a couple of slow, deep breaths and told myself to relax. I calmed myself and slowly got down for the first shot. It was a nice slow roll down the cushion, taking care to bounce the white out just a little for the next shot to the opposite corner. I struck the white ball cleanly for the first time and watched as the ball rolled down towards the pocket. I hoped I had struck it cleanly and hard enough as it slowed. I held my breath until I saw it fall and heard the satisfying ‘thunk’ as it dropped neatly in. The white ball even came to rest exactly where I needed it.
I took another deep breath and swept a glance around me. The games on the other tables had come to a halt as the players and their companions jostled for a better position from which to watch. The laughter had stopped and there were expectant looks on some of the faces. I returned my focus to the remaining three balls though I could feel the glares and stares boring into my back. I made short work of the next two balls but overstruck the white and left myself a really tricky final ball.
The white was down behind the shoulder of the corner pocket and would need to bounce off at least one cushion to hit the last remaining ball. It would be a great shot indeed if I was able to pot it but it was not going to be easy and I would surely need a bit of good luck too. I took a look at the angles and considered my play. As I stood there thinking I suddenly became aware of the tension in the room. There was a heavy, expectant air, it wasn’t exactly threatening, better to say the atmosphere was highly charged and felt thick and cloying. Even the barman craned his neck for a better view as he stood up from his chair.
I breathed in once more and gathering myself up I lined up for the shot. You could have heard a pin drop as I steadied myself then the overloud ‘thwack’ as I struck the white and broke the spell. There was an increasing murmur as the white bounced off the first cushion and sped towards the other end of the table where it struck the second. There was an audible gasp as it struck the final ball cleanly and the game was won.
I stood up and looked about me, not sure how I should behave. To be honest, I wanted to sit down as my legs were a little unsteady and I wasn’t sure I could stay on them much longer. Skinny Winner approached me and the room went quiet once more. He looked around him then thrust out his hand to shake mine as he slapped me on my back grinning and laughing. He proudly handed me my 20Bs and, still laughing, walked over to his seat.
Seeing that the room had softened towards me a little I didn’t want to cause any problems. Although I would never intentionally throw a game of pool, it wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate to say I didn’t give the next game my best. I had survived and even won a little respect in the first game but if I took it upon myself to thrash everyone in the room I would probably not leave alive. My second opponent was good enough that I didn’t lose face as I handed over the 20Bs stake with a smile.
Javier decided he’d had enough entertainment and motioned for us to leave. As I walked towards the door Skinny Winner stood and smilingly held out his hand once again. I took it with gusto and a huge smile as I saw the genuine pleasure on his face. He told me that I would be welcome anytime and I thanked him as I thought to myself of the likelihood that I’d ever venture there again.
Javier rumbled and chuckled to himself as we drove away. He’d brought four more beers for the drive.