Wichita

There's something almost mischievous about playing pool in my hometown of Wichita, Kansas. I've visited home twice this year and am practically unbeaten at pool (the exception being my father, more on that some other time). Not that I play for money or try to hustle people or anything like that. But it seems that being an anonymous, "non-regular" has an intimidating effect on people. My guess is that not many people in Wichita walk into bars alone strictly to play pool.

When I was there in March I got out the yellow pages and saw a listing for a place called "Club Billiards" on W. Douglas in the Delano District, just west of downtown Wichita. I walked in there and saw tables of all sizes, including a snooker table on which a ring game was being played called "Golf," the rules of which are still a little unclear. (At another place I visited there was a whole league of players playing a 10-ball game called "Bowling," with balls instead of pins and scoring marked in frames as strikes and spares. Ugh.) But I could tell Club Billiards was a real down-home place, an all-time classic. So much smoke in the air that my eyes watered. There were three people, wearing matching shirts and everything, playing each other on one of the small bar tables at the end of the room and I was told their opposing league team hadn't shown up. So I walk over, put my name up and started playing on a bigger table nearby. When my turn came up I went on to beat each of the three guys and it was a cakewalk, like they were overplaying themselves or something. I took this one photograph on my way out and mailed a print of it to the place a few weeks later. When I went back in July I was floored to see the print framed, hanging right beside the table where I had played four months earlier.