S TORY
Lucky
#10
BY: ANDREW MONSTIS
Lucky in Action In Vegas Continued… …………….We snoozed, watched some NBA Basketball on TV and had some “quark” and crackers in the room for a couple of hours and then returned to the action. There were new faces in the room gambling. Lucky was right. If he got action this way, very few people would remember him. I found a couple of folding chairs along the wall for us, and right away a kid came along and asked to gamble cheap. I said no thanks and Lucky shook his head and said, “No, maybe later. I don’t want to get in over my head.” He hooked the kid by the extra comment. The kid had a high-pitched laugh, “Yeah, you would lose, old man. I’m pretty good. You want none of me” How arrogant I thought!! Lucky tilted his head up at the kid and asked him if he played chess. The kid chomped his gum, eyes roving around the room restlessly. “I am here to play pool, old man. Not some other game” “Well, maybe I’ll play you later on,” Lucky said. “I might learn a thing or two from you.” We watched the room action for a few minutes and here came the kid again, back after catching no fish to try Lucky again. Lucky was patient and declined politely. He knew that when they played they would play under Lucky’s conditions. An older guy listening nearby leaned over and said, “Say, fella, I saw you playing in here earlier. How’d you come out?” “Oh, it was okay,” said Lucky, “I got lucky and won a few games.” The kid interrupted, “Come on, old man, what are you here for? I’ll play you for a few bucks. Fifty a game, that’s cheap.” He tried a little intimidation, “What, are you afraid of me?” “Chess?” Lucky queried. “Pool,” the kid said, and muttered something under his breath. Lucky stroked his beard and his mustache and finally said, “Oh, all right. That’s cheap enough.” So I went over and got my cue again, while the kid fooled around, chopping the cue ball with his hand, back spinning it all over the table. As I handed the cue to Lucky, he whispered to me, “Ok, here’s where I have to beat him flat out to take the cash, whereas in a set I could lose a few games and still win the money. Don’t leave. This will be quick.” This was going to be interesting. The kid, just happy to be playing somebody, finally, was practically bouncing from one foot to the other, nervous energy crackling. “C’mon, let’s flip,” he urged.
18 Rackem Magazine - October 2011
Lucky won the flip. They agreed to pay on every four games. The kid racked the balls and you could see he was acting as if he racked tight. Now Lucky knows better than most that there is no perfect rack. He takes a look at the rack, but only to see how the balls lie, so he knows how to break them. He broke and made the nine. The kid racked about the same way again. Lucky broke, the nine going into the same pocket as before. I could see the smirk on the young hustler’s face as he racked yet again. Lucky took a look at the rack but said nothing, and returned to break. Most players will change something about the rack to keep the nine from going in again, and this rack was no exception. Lucky broke and pocketed the nine -- in a different pocket. The kid slammed the rack onto the table, muttering something about ‘lucky b*****d.’ Lucky broke game four and I could hear a different cracking sound off this break. The nine disappeared in the headstrong right corner pocket. I saw the kid’s eyes burning, but he only clenched his jaws as he handed over $200 to Lucky. “Again?” Lucky inquired politely. With only four people, including myself, watching the match, Lucky got loose and put another four nine balls down quick. The kid didn’t know what to do, he was so angry, and was unable to speak. Lucky took the proffered $200 and shook his head, “Eight nine-ball breaks! Son, I love your racks. That was something!” I could hear the kid saying, as he slammed his cue case together, “Ah, the old fart (nicer word than he really used) was just lucky. He couldn’t even play. Lucked in the nine on the break a few times.” Lucky walked over to where I was sitting. He had kind of a strange look to him. He said the next strategy was going to be different. He wanted to get everyone lined up to play like he had back in his hometown that time I first met him there. I wondered how he planned on accomplishing that in here. He said, “Watch,” and went straight over to a small crowd watching a match and tapped one person on the shoulder. “Play cheap? Fifty a game?” “Ok!” exclaimed the stranger, Mexican looking heavy set guy beer in one hand and cue in the other with a blue sun hat. Named Sebastian. He had his cue off his shoulder and out of the case before Lucky finished saying the words, “Fifty a game.” I settled back, expecting to be here for a while. Lucky then proceeded to lose game after game after game. He lost $1,000 so quick it made my head spin.
I sat there, stunned. What was happening? I never saw him lose this kind of money before. And then, on top of that, he up and said, “I quit, for now.” I couldn’t believe my ears! I never saw this coming. The player who took Lucky’s money, grinning from ear to ear, bragged to his buddies and onlookers, and then turned back to Lucky, saying, “Maybe we can play some more later.” Lucky, normally a very polite and laid back person, ground his teeth, flexed his hands, and, in general, looked pretty darned upset. “Look, mister, I have plenty of money. You tell me where and when. You won’t win next time.” He yanked out his bankroll and I about had a heart attack. He flashed it under the guy’s nose and exclaimed, “See? Just so’s you don’t think I’m kidding you.” At that point I grabbed Lucky by the arm and steered him away, where I said, “What the hell are you doing? You have got to be out of your mind!” Lucky shrugged off my hand with an angry look. “I’ll play anyone in here for $500 a game, right now!” he said loudly. I regained my grip on Lucky’s arm, my cue, and walked Lucky out the door. A few people were barking at Lucky to play them as I hurried him out. Needless to say, I was puzzled by how Lucky was operating. This was not the Lucky I knew, the gentleman pool player, the class act. I was just about to say something to him, when he calmly turned to me and said, “Everyone knows me now. When you’re in the fish tank you have to act like the other fish sometimes.” He waved his arm at a taxi. “Where do you want to eat?” We rode a short distance to a casino that offered a great all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Over lobster and crab legs and an array of exotic seafood, Lucky said that he was going to play only sets for high money from now on, unless one game was $500 or better. I said nothing, focusing instead on a great dinner. Finally, over coffee and dessert, I said, “Look, Lucky, I don’t know where to start, exactly, but I don’t think I can…” “Son,” he said, “Let me explain something to you before you go wasting all that energy you need to digest what you just ate. Now, normally, you would not see me doing anything like what I just did today, would you?” “No, I wouldn’t,” I said. “I know you are better than that.” “Well, consider this. This place we are at, this amateur event, have you ever seen such a bunch of wannabe’s in all your life? It would (Lucky continued on page 19)