After finishing up my second last subject of the day, me and a couple of mates decided to hop on down to the cafeteria to play a bit of pool. Seeing as we had about 5-10 mins till our next class, it was too long of a time to be just sitting down doing nothing, and too short to warrant heading over to the nearby shopping centre and stopping over at the arcade. With such a timeframe, playing a bit of pool seemed like the best choice.
Upon arriving at the table, one of my friends said he’d opt to be the one to sit back and just watch. Seeing as he wasn’t much of a pool addict, this was to be expected. So it was left to me and my other friend to entertain ourselves. I put the dollar into the slot and the game was underway.
As I broke, I made good contact and the balls were spread nicely, with one sinking in. It was about this time, two girls wondered in. I’m guessing they had just finished up their classes as well, although I didn’t recognise them. So they were obviously new to me. Both sat at a table a few or so metres from where we were playing. A quick glance their way, and I could tell they sat there to get a good view of our game. Maybe they were interested
, or like us, just wanted to preoccupy themselves. Who knows…
Anyways, attention went back to the game. As I stood their deciding my course of action, in the corner of my eye I can see one of my friends smiling smugly at me. I knew it was in reaction to the girls walking in, so I gave a quick acknowledgement of the eyebrow. I reached down, sized up my next shot, and… poorly missed. It wasn’t one of those standard misses. This was complete and utter shit. Such kinds of ‘outcomes’ I would attribute to my nature of being easily unsettled when random people start watching. It’s been five years and I still can’t get over it.
So now it was my friend who approached the table to take his turn. It wasn’t long however till I was back at the table shooting again. While the odds were spaced out in my favour, the evens were not, to my friend’s dismay. This time I tried to space myself out, and basically tried to ignore all my surroundings… and it actually worked. This time, my shots were on target and I was back in the game.
It was at my third shot I heard one of the girls give out a small cheer. I looked in her direction and gave a quick smile. As attention went back to the game, I took the next shot, and predictably missed. An audible sound of disappointment came from the direction of our two girls. Putting two and two together, not only were they engrossed in our game, I started to have an inkling that they were cheering for me.
As my friend took his turn, I noticed a look of deep focus and strict determination on his face. He is what you could consider a pretty competitive player. With having a couple of girls watching, this further compounded his attitude of wanting to win. Shot after shot, he was doing pretty well. After a decent round, it was again my turn. With every shot sunk, every ball missed, our two audience members gave a response. This was the first time I had my own private cheerleaders.
As we each took our turns, swaying back and forth, the amount of balls on the table were slowly diminishing. The game was soon drawing to a close, and quite appropriately too as our next class was starting in a few minutes.
These closing moments saw me already at the eight ball, while my friend still had about two left on the table plus the eight. Now it being my turn, I felt I had the game in the bag. I sized up and shot the ball towards the corner pocket. As the ball hastily rolled towards the hole, it somehow clipped the side of the hole causing it to ricochet out of its intended destination. It placed itself just shy from the hole I intended for it to fall into. As predicted, my cheerleaders shared in my disappointment.
Now the shoe was on the other foot, and this time it was my friend who believed he had the game in the bag. Walking towards the table, he carefully aimed his shot. I could tell he was deeply immersed into the game. You could tell concentration had completely consumed him. A few seconds had elapsed till he finally struck the cue.
As contact was made, an odd sound came about. It was a miss-cue! With him being so committed, he had completely forgotten to chalk his cue. The ball travelled randomly across the table, bounced off a couple of edges and eventually found itself behind one of the evens, with the eight ball on the other side. Clearly this was something that didn’t want. I consider jumping illegal in the game of pool, so that was out of the question. Bouncing it off a wall was the usual standard, but I decided to try out something new.
Looking at past games I watched, I remember a guy who was able to shoot in a way that made the cue-ball travel in an arc-like manner. Basically getting the ball to orbit around an obstacle ball. This was a manoeuvrer that was very appropriate in my situation. I took my cue and chalked vigorously, as this type of shot requires a lot of friction. After a bit of chalking, I raised the back end of the stick to my eye, and aimed down at the cue ball. I positioned my stick so that contact is made a little left at centre and ensured that a little backspin was applied. Upon contact, the ball shot out towards the right, and past the obstacle ball. To my amazement, the ball quickly curved towards the left. As it continued on, black and white edged closer and closer together. It was only mere milliseconds I held my breath, till a slight bump caused the eight ball to find its way in. A round of applause came from my two fans.
This was a good game, not only because we both played rather well, but this time I didn’t actually choke in front of someone other than the people I already know. After the usual tradition of handshakes and small talk aimed at inflating egos or repairing damaged ones, I looked at the watch and it was time for us to head up to our next class. As we gathered our bags and books, and started to approach the exit, one of the girls called out to us. We stopped and looked in their direction. As I looked at her, I can see she had taken out what looked like sweets from her bag. Looking at my direction, she asked if we wanted some chocolate. A question we all knew was aimed at me.
Now if you understood the meaning behind the title, you would know what was to happen next. How I responded to this question would be considered a slap in the face towards the code that all (or should I say most) men believe in, that is to never turn down an ‘offer’ (am I right fellas?). Seriously, stupidity knows no bounds with replies such as the one I gave.
“No thanks. I don’t like chocolateâ€ÂÂ
Upon arriving at the table, one of my friends said he’d opt to be the one to sit back and just watch. Seeing as he wasn’t much of a pool addict, this was to be expected. So it was left to me and my other friend to entertain ourselves. I put the dollar into the slot and the game was underway.
As I broke, I made good contact and the balls were spread nicely, with one sinking in. It was about this time, two girls wondered in. I’m guessing they had just finished up their classes as well, although I didn’t recognise them. So they were obviously new to me. Both sat at a table a few or so metres from where we were playing. A quick glance their way, and I could tell they sat there to get a good view of our game. Maybe they were interested
, or like us, just wanted to preoccupy themselves. Who knows…Anyways, attention went back to the game. As I stood their deciding my course of action, in the corner of my eye I can see one of my friends smiling smugly at me. I knew it was in reaction to the girls walking in, so I gave a quick acknowledgement of the eyebrow. I reached down, sized up my next shot, and… poorly missed. It wasn’t one of those standard misses. This was complete and utter shit. Such kinds of ‘outcomes’ I would attribute to my nature of being easily unsettled when random people start watching. It’s been five years and I still can’t get over it.
So now it was my friend who approached the table to take his turn. It wasn’t long however till I was back at the table shooting again. While the odds were spaced out in my favour, the evens were not, to my friend’s dismay. This time I tried to space myself out, and basically tried to ignore all my surroundings… and it actually worked. This time, my shots were on target and I was back in the game.
It was at my third shot I heard one of the girls give out a small cheer. I looked in her direction and gave a quick smile. As attention went back to the game, I took the next shot, and predictably missed. An audible sound of disappointment came from the direction of our two girls. Putting two and two together, not only were they engrossed in our game, I started to have an inkling that they were cheering for me.
As my friend took his turn, I noticed a look of deep focus and strict determination on his face. He is what you could consider a pretty competitive player. With having a couple of girls watching, this further compounded his attitude of wanting to win. Shot after shot, he was doing pretty well. After a decent round, it was again my turn. With every shot sunk, every ball missed, our two audience members gave a response. This was the first time I had my own private cheerleaders.
As we each took our turns, swaying back and forth, the amount of balls on the table were slowly diminishing. The game was soon drawing to a close, and quite appropriately too as our next class was starting in a few minutes.
These closing moments saw me already at the eight ball, while my friend still had about two left on the table plus the eight. Now it being my turn, I felt I had the game in the bag. I sized up and shot the ball towards the corner pocket. As the ball hastily rolled towards the hole, it somehow clipped the side of the hole causing it to ricochet out of its intended destination. It placed itself just shy from the hole I intended for it to fall into. As predicted, my cheerleaders shared in my disappointment.
Now the shoe was on the other foot, and this time it was my friend who believed he had the game in the bag. Walking towards the table, he carefully aimed his shot. I could tell he was deeply immersed into the game. You could tell concentration had completely consumed him. A few seconds had elapsed till he finally struck the cue.
As contact was made, an odd sound came about. It was a miss-cue! With him being so committed, he had completely forgotten to chalk his cue. The ball travelled randomly across the table, bounced off a couple of edges and eventually found itself behind one of the evens, with the eight ball on the other side. Clearly this was something that didn’t want. I consider jumping illegal in the game of pool, so that was out of the question. Bouncing it off a wall was the usual standard, but I decided to try out something new.
Looking at past games I watched, I remember a guy who was able to shoot in a way that made the cue-ball travel in an arc-like manner. Basically getting the ball to orbit around an obstacle ball. This was a manoeuvrer that was very appropriate in my situation. I took my cue and chalked vigorously, as this type of shot requires a lot of friction. After a bit of chalking, I raised the back end of the stick to my eye, and aimed down at the cue ball. I positioned my stick so that contact is made a little left at centre and ensured that a little backspin was applied. Upon contact, the ball shot out towards the right, and past the obstacle ball. To my amazement, the ball quickly curved towards the left. As it continued on, black and white edged closer and closer together. It was only mere milliseconds I held my breath, till a slight bump caused the eight ball to find its way in. A round of applause came from my two fans.
This was a good game, not only because we both played rather well, but this time I didn’t actually choke in front of someone other than the people I already know. After the usual tradition of handshakes and small talk aimed at inflating egos or repairing damaged ones, I looked at the watch and it was time for us to head up to our next class. As we gathered our bags and books, and started to approach the exit, one of the girls called out to us. We stopped and looked in their direction. As I looked at her, I can see she had taken out what looked like sweets from her bag. Looking at my direction, she asked if we wanted some chocolate. A question we all knew was aimed at me.
Now if you understood the meaning behind the title, you would know what was to happen next. How I responded to this question would be considered a slap in the face towards the code that all (or should I say most) men believe in, that is to never turn down an ‘offer’ (am I right fellas?). Seriously, stupidity knows no bounds with replies such as the one I gave.
“No thanks. I don’t like chocolateâ€ÂÂ