A new pool team

Back in December, before I realized that Dennis would not live through the end of the month, I had planned on taking a season off from the pool league. The main reason why was because I figured that with Dennis getting worse, I couldn't live with myself by continuing to play pool on Tuesday evenings when he would be home alone. That was unacceptable in my mind. That changed once Dennis died. My entire mind set concerning the pool league changed. Fresh with grief, I didn't want to be a captain, I didn't want to play out of a bar that Dennis and I had had as a home bar, because I felt there would be too many "ghosts" to contend with. I realized there'd be "ghosts" no matter where I played because you don't play at your home bar each week, you also have to travel to other venues, but I was trying to lessen my exposure to a favorite bar. The past couple of season we had played out of the Hearth, the sponsor loved us, it was a great space to play pool but just entering the bar brought chills. I called Ray (the sponsor) and told him my thoughts about changing venues because of the death of Dennis. He was very understanding, expressed interest in sponsoring other teams, and he hoped that I'd be able to return with a team in the future.

My first "group outing" after he passed was to attend the season-ending awards party. The party was to be held at the Hotel Whitcomb, which the league was using as the venue for West Coast Challenge. It was a very emotional night for me. It had been less than two weeks since Dennis had died. People kept coming up to me expressing their thoughts of Dennis and they were all wondering how I was doing. I even ran into someone who was not aware that Dennis had died. I won't use his name (to avoid embarrassment to him), but he had come up to me, gave me a hug, then asked how Dennis was. It caught me off guard. I said, "I guess you haven't heard, but Dennis passed away on Christmas Eve."

"Oh, Rick. I am so sorry. I had not heard. Please accept my apologies and my condolences."

"You don't have to apologize. I realize that every once in a while, someone is going to be asking me about Dennis because they will not have heard the news. It's always a bit shocking, but it's also something that I have to deal with. He went peacefully at home, like we had talked about. Considering the subject matter, it was an honor to be there for him."

I found an empty spot at one of the tables that had mostly people I already knew. After everyone had eaten, league President Travis Bernard opened the awards ceremony. He began by asking for a moment of silence due to the passing of long-time league member Dennis Healy, which brought immediate tears to my eyes as he caught me by surprise; I had not realized he was going to do that. I was sitting next to Jerry Ball and he reached over and gave me a hug. "It's okay, Rick."

"I know; he just caught me off guard," I sniffed.

He then announced that it was a special night, because it was time to induct someone into the SFPA Hall of Fame. The recipient was Bernie King, former league president, multiple tournament winner, dedicated member who was always tirelessly doing something for the league. Bernie was also in ill health, as he had been diagnosed with brain cancer and we all knew he didn't have much longer to live. It was a very popular decision to put him into the Hall and he received an extended standing ovation when it was announced.

Once the awards were passed out, the party started to break up into the Grand Ballroom, where the WCC was going to be held and where the pool tables were located. It was time for the "Turkey Shoot" tournament they always hold after the awards party. It's a fun event, whereby all you have to do is pocket a ball to maintain your place in the mix of players. You are allowed "three strikes" (missed shot, foul, etc.); once you reach that point, you are eliminated from the tournament, so basically, it's a "last man standing" tournament. Dennis and I always declined to play and I kept up the tradition—I didn't participate.

Bob Schnatterly came up to me and wanted to know what I was planning on for the upcoming season.

"I really don't know at the moment, Bob. I was going to take the season off, because I figured I'd be taking care of Dennis and I didn't want to leave him alone on Tuesdays while I was out playing pool. That's not in play any longer. I do know I don't want to be a captain. Maybe I'll just find a team that needs a player. I've already contacted my old sponsor and told him I wouldn't be back; he was very understanding."

"You don't need to give me an answer right now, but I'd love to have you join my team. I'm sure everyone on the team would welcome you with open arms. Think about it, okay?"

"Thanks for asking, Bob. I will think about it. I've had a couple of other people ask me as well, but I also don't want to join a "high powered" team. I'd like to be on a team that's a contender, without being so competitive that there's no fun involved. I will definitely let you know before sign up night."

I ultimately decided to join Bob's team. They play out of a bar called "Route 101" on Van Ness and Bush, which makes it convenient for me because my best friend Tom lives about four blocks up the street, so he will be able to visit during home matches. Any time I can spend with Tom is always time well spent. We're ten weeks into the 14-week season, and my play has been erratic at best. It's very frustrating to me, because I've been a pretty good player for a long time and this roller coaster ride I'm on just doesn't allow me to be my best all the time. I feel very bad because I don't feel like I'm helping the team; I don't even have a .500 average yet and in my 56 seasons, I've only had four or five seasons under .500, so this is an anomaly. The team doesn't seem to be too concerned about it; they all say "look what you're going through." But I hate using that as an excuse. Even with my erratic play, I do enjoy being on this team. Everyone is super nice and not so serious as to exclude the fun part of pool—after all, it is a game, and while I'm serious about playing, I always try to have fun as well. It's just not the same without Dennis along the sidelines cheering me on. I particularly miss getting the good luck kiss before each game that we always exchanged. So many new things to get used to—I don't know if I'll ever adapt fully.