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Happy to report that Dresden Hotel, my Pool League team, won last night 8-1 and are still in first place in the County. But boy, did we win ugly. And my partner and I were responsible for the only loss—we stunk it up on that rack. Didn't get the rolls and couldn't keep the white ball out of the hole.

I redeemed myself by making a difficult shot on the 8-ball as the final shot of the match. The cue ball was right over a corner pocket, about a sixteenth of an inch away from being corner-hooked, and the eight ball was on a dead straight line to the opposite corner about two-thirds of the way down table. I had to shoot jacked up to keep the cue ball from following. That's the kind of shot they call a "tester" and I passed the test, pretty as you please.

Moving the white ball around the table is the game, at the higher levels. Check out this simple sequence of two shots by German phenom Josh Filler, playing against his Russian counterpart Fedor Gorst—two of the hottest young talents in the game right now.

The game they're playing is 9-ball, where you must contact the lowest-numbered ball on the table first. We join the action at 25:25 as Fedor, in his seat, knocks a cue to the floor. That's something that could be interpreted as sharking* if you did it at the wrong time. Josh has ball in hand, meaning he can place the cue ball on the table anywhere he wants. He has to shoot the blue 2-ball. But his red 3-ball is "tied up" and doesn't have a pocket. Watch as he brilliantly engineers a simple shot on the red three...and then keep watching to see how he gets back to the other end of the table for the pink 4-ball (if you look carefully before he shoots the red three, you can see him point with his cue to the spot on the table where he wants the cue ball to end up for the pink four).

Simple but elegant...and deceptively difficult. No clue about the whistling in the background!

If you keep watching, next is the orange five (watch how he goes all the way to the rail and back out—pros seldom try to "hold" the cue ball except when they have to), the dark green six, the black eight, and out.

Nothing to this game.

Filler is a genuine phenomenon—Gorst is a big talent who will be a top player for many years if he works hard, but he "plays his age" more than Filler, showing his talent more sporadically. Filler on the other hand is a Mozart.

Filler behind the 8-ball

For a bonus, there's a wonderful escape shot if you go to 7:35 in the same match. As Fedor shoots the red three he is also trying to move the pink four, which is tied up. But he misses the breakout. So he "plays safe"—that's when you deliberately give your opponent a hidden target to make things tough for him. (Notice Filler's expression in the background—he knows exactly what's about to happen.) When Filler comes to the table he has to hit the pink ball first, but the 8-ball is in the way. (If you ever wondered where the expression "behind the eight ball" comes from, now you know, although the expression no doubt came from the game of 8-ball. In 9-ball any ball but the one you're on can be a blocking ball.) Watch what Filler does.

Amazing shot. Great escapes are some of the best shots in pool.

That's it for pool for March!

Mike

*The word "sharking" is frequently confused with hustling by people who don't play pool, and even by some who do. A person who tries to elicit a bigger bet from an amateur player by hiding his true skill level until the big money is on the table is a hustler. A shark is somebody who tries to distract his opponent as the opponent is making a shot. For instance, my friend I play pool with, a few days ago, waited until I was down on a critical shot and said, "I wonder what ----- looks like naked," naming a woman he knows I have a bit of a crush on. That's sharking. There was a famous old-time shark who was notorious for moving directly into his opponent's line of sight and, with exquisite timing, whipping out his handkerchief or striking a kitchen match to light his cigar just as his opponent brought the cue forward to hit the ball.

Interestingly, Earl Woods, for several months, deliberately heckled his son Tiger as Tiger practiced, to get him inured to it. One day Tiger said, that's enough now, Dad, I got it. At the bar where we played last night, which is known for being rowdy and where the path from the kitchen to the bar area goes right past the pool table, you'd best not be too easily distracted.

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