“RJ, We really need you, come out and shoot for Game On this Summer” asked Yaega Lee. “I will not be available for every Wednesday due to travel and business, but when I’m in the area, I’ll come out.” On Wednesday, 16 July, I went to Sonny O’s in Valley Stream to shoot with Yaega, ERL, and the Quiet Man for Game On. I shot pool against them before and took two out of three so I assumed we were shooting against the same team. That was a bad assumption.
I remember, it was as little as two years ago, that there was an unwritten but thoroughly observed etiquette by all shooters in all leagues respecting both shooter and the shooters property, i.e. pool stick, pool case, jackets and other items when visiting an opposing team. Courtesy when a shooter was at the table was also something given for the sake of decency and gamesmanship.
But my last experience at Sonny O’s revealed to me that League Pool as a tool for community and business in the South Shore bar culture of players and drinkers is in danger of ending. Not only were we as a team constantly and ignominiously disrespected while shooting, but the fools shooting thought the racial epithets and sexually degrading language from the rap crap they played on the jukebox applied to our team and to me.
I arrived at Sonny O’s early and got in a practice game before their team showed up. I knew Tracy, she and Jimmy (the other Owner) have been friends of my brother for decades. We know the regular shooters and have always had a good friendly competition and cordial relationship with the bar. This night all that would change. Another set of shooters, younger, nastier and undisciplined showed up. I thought, “what happened to the regulars?”
As they shadowed the pockets of the pool table in groups of two and three while we were shooting, it was obvious others were also actively working on distractions as the rap crap that played spewed out nigger this and nigger that. As I sat at the bar drinking my tonic water one of the young punks bumped me in the back (I have had surgery on my back, it still hurts all the time) I looked at him expecting an ‘excuse me’ and got “don’t get mad my nigger”.
“Who the fuck you talking to? Better learn how to address people, I’m nobody’s nigger!” The asshole I’ll call Ralph was wearing a Tony Soprano style bowling shirt and long shorts. He went to the table to shoot against Yaega Lee who was using my stick. As Yaega made a bank shot that was super nice, Ralph started with the nasty talk, I won’t quote it exactly because I don’t want Google to punish me for overt sexual content but Ralph called her a female body part.
Ralph then failed to make his shot then grabbed my pool stick, slammed it against the wall and then kicked my pool que down the floor length of the bar. I went ballistic. I picked up my stick and shouted “what the fuck is wrong with you. Why are you trying to break my stick you ignorant asshole, WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Ralph got cocky “that’s my stick?” “NO ASSHOLE ITS NOT, MY NAME IS ON IT, LOOK!”
“Ok, your stick looks like my stick,” said Ralph. “Get your stick, NOW” I demanded. His stick had a dark weaved handle, it was black, my stick was obviously white, the difference in look and feel would have been apparent to Stevie Wonder. “Get the fuck away from me asshole, I don’t need to be treated like this by some punk.” “Yo’ Nigga I’ll get you another $10 dollar stick” said Ralph as he grabbed his crotch.. I started packing my pool cue’s and headed for the door.
I had to leave to keep from getting in a fight, apparently that’s what this class of lowlife was looking for. They have no respect for people and it seemed to sit quite well with Tracy to tolerate this. I treat people the way I want to be treated, I did nothing to instigate this kind of treatment. Just because it’s a bar and people are drinking doesn’t excuse belligerence, disrespect or other forms of assholiness.
Yaega asked me to stay for the sake of the team, so I did provided that I didn’t shoot against Ralph. Then I noticed that as they played more and more rap crap that they were trying to act like they grew up in Bedford Styversant, Brownsville, or Crown Heights. ‘Wiggers’ is what they call them down South. But for the sake of the team and the bar I represented I never called anyone that name, but I wanted to.
Ralph’s brother, I’ll call him Al approached me and asked to talk. I, being as gracious as I could granted his request. Al told me that Ralph gets like that sometimes. “When Ralph was a kid he got cracked in the head with a shovel and he’s been stoopid ever since” said Al after taking a drag off his cigarette. Al looked at me and said “I want to apologize for him.” I told Al I appreciated that but Ralph should apologize for himself. He never did.
So even with intentional acts of distraction, contempt and ignominious behavior on the part of our hosts, we persevered. Although we lost in doubles we kept our composure and shot well. ERL did go off and mention all the bad acts to Tracy who casually dismissed it. Nevertheless we did go on make ourselves good representatives for the Game. After that I left as fast as I possibly could.
I got to Game On and told Poppy J about what happened. He shook his head and said “what kind of league did I sign this bar up for?” I then shot some more pool with Quiet Man and ERL before heading home. I still get mad thinking about that night. But if some people who witnessed that night have anything to say, it will be a long time before the end of this is heard.
If the purpose of the League is to get people to go out to bars and taverns then it better consider who represents them. Game On represents well.
RJ
I remember, it was as little as two years ago, that there was an unwritten but thoroughly observed etiquette by all shooters in all leagues respecting both shooter and the shooters property, i.e. pool stick, pool case, jackets and other items when visiting an opposing team. Courtesy when a shooter was at the table was also something given for the sake of decency and gamesmanship.
But my last experience at Sonny O’s revealed to me that League Pool as a tool for community and business in the South Shore bar culture of players and drinkers is in danger of ending. Not only were we as a team constantly and ignominiously disrespected while shooting, but the fools shooting thought the racial epithets and sexually degrading language from the rap crap they played on the jukebox applied to our team and to me.
I arrived at Sonny O’s early and got in a practice game before their team showed up. I knew Tracy, she and Jimmy (the other Owner) have been friends of my brother for decades. We know the regular shooters and have always had a good friendly competition and cordial relationship with the bar. This night all that would change. Another set of shooters, younger, nastier and undisciplined showed up. I thought, “what happened to the regulars?”
As they shadowed the pockets of the pool table in groups of two and three while we were shooting, it was obvious others were also actively working on distractions as the rap crap that played spewed out nigger this and nigger that. As I sat at the bar drinking my tonic water one of the young punks bumped me in the back (I have had surgery on my back, it still hurts all the time) I looked at him expecting an ‘excuse me’ and got “don’t get mad my nigger”.
“Who the fuck you talking to? Better learn how to address people, I’m nobody’s nigger!” The asshole I’ll call Ralph was wearing a Tony Soprano style bowling shirt and long shorts. He went to the table to shoot against Yaega Lee who was using my stick. As Yaega made a bank shot that was super nice, Ralph started with the nasty talk, I won’t quote it exactly because I don’t want Google to punish me for overt sexual content but Ralph called her a female body part.
Ralph then failed to make his shot then grabbed my pool stick, slammed it against the wall and then kicked my pool que down the floor length of the bar. I went ballistic. I picked up my stick and shouted “what the fuck is wrong with you. Why are you trying to break my stick you ignorant asshole, WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Ralph got cocky “that’s my stick?” “NO ASSHOLE ITS NOT, MY NAME IS ON IT, LOOK!”
“Ok, your stick looks like my stick,” said Ralph. “Get your stick, NOW” I demanded. His stick had a dark weaved handle, it was black, my stick was obviously white, the difference in look and feel would have been apparent to Stevie Wonder. “Get the fuck away from me asshole, I don’t need to be treated like this by some punk.” “Yo’ Nigga I’ll get you another $10 dollar stick” said Ralph as he grabbed his crotch.. I started packing my pool cue’s and headed for the door.
I had to leave to keep from getting in a fight, apparently that’s what this class of lowlife was looking for. They have no respect for people and it seemed to sit quite well with Tracy to tolerate this. I treat people the way I want to be treated, I did nothing to instigate this kind of treatment. Just because it’s a bar and people are drinking doesn’t excuse belligerence, disrespect or other forms of assholiness.
Yaega asked me to stay for the sake of the team, so I did provided that I didn’t shoot against Ralph. Then I noticed that as they played more and more rap crap that they were trying to act like they grew up in Bedford Styversant, Brownsville, or Crown Heights. ‘Wiggers’ is what they call them down South. But for the sake of the team and the bar I represented I never called anyone that name, but I wanted to.
Ralph’s brother, I’ll call him Al approached me and asked to talk. I, being as gracious as I could granted his request. Al told me that Ralph gets like that sometimes. “When Ralph was a kid he got cracked in the head with a shovel and he’s been stoopid ever since” said Al after taking a drag off his cigarette. Al looked at me and said “I want to apologize for him.” I told Al I appreciated that but Ralph should apologize for himself. He never did.
So even with intentional acts of distraction, contempt and ignominious behavior on the part of our hosts, we persevered. Although we lost in doubles we kept our composure and shot well. ERL did go off and mention all the bad acts to Tracy who casually dismissed it. Nevertheless we did go on make ourselves good representatives for the Game. After that I left as fast as I possibly could.
I got to Game On and told Poppy J about what happened. He shook his head and said “what kind of league did I sign this bar up for?” I then shot some more pool with Quiet Man and ERL before heading home. I still get mad thinking about that night. But if some people who witnessed that night have anything to say, it will be a long time before the end of this is heard.
If the purpose of the League is to get people to go out to bars and taverns then it better consider who represents them. Game On represents well.
RJ
