8-Ball Break

I'm a horrible pool player. See? I don't even know if that is the right term for someone who tries to shoot pool! But, it's true - I do not have the Killer Instinct. I want to play well, but I also want my opponent to be happy. In pool, people are generally only happy if they win. Ergo, I want my opponent to win.

Now why on earth, if you are captain of a team, would you want such a player on your team? This isn't golf where a handicap is beneficial. It's pool, and this sort of handicap is good for nothing other than a general feeling of bonhomie. And bonhomie, as we know, is a fun word to say but has very few practical uses.

More important, and to the point, while bonhomie may make you popular, it also is likely to earn you diddly-squat in the money tournament.

Still, even for someone who wants their opponent to win/be happy, it sucks to lose on an 8-ball break. Maybe it's the suspense of that moment; the thrill of a potential win, the expectation of the loud clatter and clack that follows a good break, or the excitement that at least, here, at the beginning of the game, you have so many balls to choose from that not sinking a single one is just not a possibility even worth considering!

And your opponent breaks and you watch in horror and consternation (ok, it's pool, remember? nothing in pool is worth horror and consternation, those are of course exaggerations intended to lure the reader into a pivotal moment of heightened emotion) as the 8-ball slowly drifts towards the corner pocket.

Game-fucking-over. How sad is that?

And that is when you confidently walk over to the jukebox, pop in a dollar and press 156 for Don't Cha and then head to the snogging corner for a quick round of Kick Goodbar's Fucking Ass At Darts, which totally beats the snot out of an 8-ball break :-)