When I was a kid, we had a toy pool at home. It was thinner than the dinning room table and not longer than one metre. Anyway, that was okay to have some fun.
I had always been very bad at pool. That wasn’t an actual problem for me, hitting the white ball and see the other balls spread in all directions was enough for me. You can imagine I didn’t learn a lot and, when I played on a real pool table two or three times as a teenager, it was quite shameful.
But last Friday my luck changed — let’s face it; luck had a great part in that. I went to a bar with three friends and played in pairs. My performance was a clear consequence of my toy past. During the game I asked for advice and my opponents gave some to me.
But the student sometimes overcomes the master. I played two times against each one of my three friends and won all the games! Well, according to them I won two games and they lost four by messing with the black ball. I don’t mind; that was my night.
Beginner’s luck? Yes. Had they drunk double than me? Absolutely. Am I going to play it again and risk my title? No way.