Pool

Prior to our missions, Simon and I became pool junkies. Most mornings when neither of us had to work we would stop by Paces Dairy Ann on the way home from the university to pick up lunch. We would take it back to our house and shoot pool for a couple of hours on my parents’ table while listening to Deana Carter (we thought she was hot), The Police, and U2 (admittedly not as hot).

Like any artificial stimulant, after a while this wasn’t enough. We took a billiards class and entered nine ball tournaments on campus. It was there we found out we were pretty good, and I even picked up the nickname Cream. If one of us didn’t make it to the tournament finals, or at least the semi-finals, it was typically because we had played each other earlier in the bracket. Against each other, we were pretty even. I was the more consistent player, though with a greater tendency to scratch, but Simon would run the table on you if you didn’t beat him quick enough.

At least, that is how I remember it.

This morning I pulled out my old cue (21 oz.), pulled back the cover on my parents’ table, and shot for about an hour while Neesha was giving Caleb a bath. I haven’t played consistently since before my mission, over ten years, now, and it showed. I spent most of the time trying to relearn angles and ball speeds, and my bridges aren’t as stable as they used to be, making accuracy an issue. Most telling is that, after I was done, my left hand and right shoulder were tired. All the same, it brought back a lot of memories. All morning I could hear Simon’s voice cracking on the high notes in the chorus to “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic,” as I sang “One” by U2. “Have you come here for forgiveness?/Have you come to raise the dead?/Have you come here to play Jesus /to the lepers in your head?”

Good times.

mw