Shark attack

There is a bar on Rivington that I used to frequent somewhat regularly called Welcome to the Johnsons. I consulted my 2000 Zagat NYC nightlife guide, which describes it as "Grandma's living room crossed with a pool hall." I'm not crazy about the place, especially if it's crowded. When that's the case inevitably people are playing doubles, which I can't stand. A few months ago I had lugged my 4x5 camera and tripod there to take some exposures. But I wanted to play a little before setting up the camera. So I'm playing this guy, I think his name was Al, and he did something so low that I've not been back since. When I wasn't looking, he moved my pocket-hanging 5-ball from right smack dab in the middle of a corner pocket to just around the tip of that corner's rail edge. As soon as I noticed it wasn't such an easy shot anymore I called him out asking if he had moved it. He feigned incredulousness and laughingly denied my charge. I kept at it, saying that it was right in the middle of the pocket a few moments earlier but now all of a sudden it was a much more difficult shot. Disgusted, I slammed the cue ball down the table into the 5, sinking it and sending the cue ball several rails. At which point he said "Whoa, you're hustling me!" I didn't "win" that game but I definitely let him know I was on to his cheating. Above is a photograph from that night, and below is a shot from more friendly times in 2002.