Greatest of the Great - 2012

On my birthday several friends and I were having a conversation about the greatest athlete of our lifetime at Frank's Lounge. We were all in our 50s. Larry had seen Ali, Homer claimed for Magic Johnson, AP proposed Andre the Giant, then I said, "Evel Knievel." "No way." Larry shook his head. AP and Homer called me a fool, but I stood by my choice.

Evel Knievel broke over 400 bones broken in the pursuit of aerial excellence, but his most heroic leap was the attempt to clear the Caesar's Palace pool in Las Vegas.

That New Year's Eve in 1967 on New Evel dropped $100 at the blackjack table. He zeroed out his chips, then had one shot of Wild Turkey before exiting the casino to climb on his Triumph Bonneville 650 cc.

Linda Evans filmed the crash at Caesar's pool for the Wide World of Sports. His approach is perfect, but somehow the engine cut out on the ramp. The bike's rear tire caught the receiving ramp. Evel tumbles a football field into the casino. Linda Evans caught every agonizing second. Evel was comasized 29 days.

Next jump.

Houston Astrodome.

19 cars.

Harley 750.

Successful both times.

None better.

Evel Knieval. The Greatest of the Great.

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Much more to come.

Good at Something - 2024

A proficiency in billiards is the sign of a misspent youth. - attributed to Herbert Spencer, English philosopher after losing 50-0 to a pool shark.

Back room at the 169 Bar 2024

I can hold my own only because I'm lucky with the eight-ball.

A Little Brando Maybe

From 2012

Last week I was playing pool at the Abbey. Maz was in town from Alaska. THe jewelry salesman was leaving for the islands on Wednesday. His time in the Far North had not effected his hand and eye coordination and the bald-headed genji ruled the table for several games. I lost to him on a double-miss on a game-ending corner shot on the 8-ball.

While awaiting my next shot at the champ, I watched the popular bar on Driggs Avenue filled with young people. I spoke to several sci-fi fans about RESIDENT EVIL and a BBC correspondent about the current BBC sex scandal. We agreed that Jimmy Sevillem the TV announcer was an unpentent child molester, but he argued that Jimmy Savile was the only person involved during the decades of under-age sex at the media center in London.

"Not bloody likely."

He dropped his quarters in the slot and Maz offered him the break.

His pool cue was missing the tip from the ferule.

"Your stick's accent is 100% Cambridge." It was a good guess and he admitted to having graduated from that prestigious university. "Playing pool well is the sign of a misspent youth."

His blonde girlfriend thought that was funny. She was a literary agent.

"I handle mostly non-fiction." She was young and smart with long legs. She would have been beautiful in any bar in New York. Her unnaturally curly hair discounted her tale about working only with the truth. Her friend lost to Maz and after they left he asked me, "Would you slept with her?"

"No." I am faithful to Fenway's mom.

"No." Maz is astounded by my self-imposed celibacy.

"She's not my type."

No one believes my restraint, since my reputation as a ladies man had once been world-wide. I looked around the bar. The women in the Abbey were laughing with the freedom of youth. None of them had eyes for a man my age. I had once looked like an Irish Brando. Probably still do but more like his appearance in APOCALYPSE NOW plus thitty years. I'm overweight, but he was a giant in that film. More like he had transformed into Orson Wellles. I dropped four coins into the pool table slot.

"Not a single woman in here is my type.

"I don't worry about types." Maz was a free agent as was I at his age.

I was forty years old twenty years ago.

I accepted the truth of my ruin and racked the fifteen balls tight. After Maz's break I ran the table with a series of combos and bank shots. The next player was a black girl in her 20s. She was wearing a short black skirt.

"Nice shooting."

"Thanks."

I lost once more on the last shot, which was always better than the first.