Playing Pool in Gibraltar

The Royal Oak pool player - winners of the 2019 GibOil Plate. A great team with which I was privileged to play. Let's celebrate the victory first and foremost. And what a match it was: 5 - 4 to the Royal Oak who battled it out in the final against the Hackney Carriage. Reaching the final of this annual Gibraltar pool competition is an achievement in itself; it is the result of several months of regular matches against some pretty good teams. Gibraltar's is a small community and the pool family just a tiny part of that small community. We all tend to know each other and at some point in the year we are likely to play each other. We can get to know each other's games quite well. This in itself poses quite a challenge, especially in your individual competitions - you can get complacent, or, on the contrary, you can feel a bit intimidated if you're up against a player that you feel is more skilled than you are. The Gibraltar Seniors team at the EBA World Cup at B...

Gibraltar Seniors at EBA World Championship 2018, Bridlington, photo courtesy Shaun Rumbado It's been a while since I've posted on this blog. And since I've played pool well. 2017 was a washout - too much on my mind to focus. And 2018 was an unmitigated disaster as far as playing any really decent frames were concerned. I tottered through two European Championships, one Nations Cup and one World Cup and emerged mostly feeling let down by my own relatively poor standard of playing. In fact, last week was the first time I played a proper match for months - I had toyed with the idea of simply giving up, but I enjoy the game too much! Age hurts - along with my fifties have come all those niggling little ailments, and those aches and pains: the joints creak almost audibly, especially during late matches, and the old lumbar twinges as I stand . And the eyes! Good grief, I used to have superb eyesight until what seems like only a few months ago. Now I bend to the table...

Photo: "Pool Game" by Serge Bertasius Photography from www.freedigitalphotos.net   Thirty-five years is a long time.  Too long for keeping up with skills learnt in my mid-teens.  Still, I loved the sport and in the depths of the stress of family life and work, home and finance and all that modern, rat-race stuff, I needed to get back to something I loved doing. At the age of 14 or 15, a friend of mine invited me up to the local snooker hall where I lived in Medway.  It was the snooker hall upstairs from Burtons on Gillingham High Street - not the most salubrious place in town - but the place where I was introduced to a sport I was to grow to love.  For a fairly quiet lad, it was a bit of a venture out to me, but I quickly warmed to the place and found that snooker came easily.  That's not a boast, being good at snooker was very tough, but I got the hang of the game pretty quickly, and pretty quickly I was beating my mates.  I had the ability to ...