It is hard to put my emotions into words right now, I feel like I have lost a part of my soul, for the pool table was not only a game or toy, but a soulmate.
I remember the first day I came home after secondary school, seeing the pool table in all its glory as I walked across the maisonette from the door. I remember it being beside the window, and the lights were gleaming onto it. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling, like the beauty of a fresh morning sunrise by the sea and the gentleness of a demure teenage girl.
As I stroked my bridging palm across the table face, the blue baize felt smooth and inviting. I immediately picked up a house cue, which came with the table, and began hitting a few balls. At that time, I was still using the taiwanese variety. The feeling was simply magical as I watched and heard the balls bounce into the pocket and roll to the front. I remember the first game that I played was against my dad, and I remember running out from the break in that very first game, which only made me love the table more.
Of course, as with any love story, the infatuation slowly changes, and you start to realise that the table is not as perfect as you thought it to be. I realised that the table was made from a wood core and not a slate one, which produced more noise and made jump shots near impossible. Also, the pockets were not really well designed, and the balls would many a times spin out of the pockets easily even after being potted. The return system is also not perfect, as many balls often got stuck at the back corner pockets. The lackluster cloth meant that it was harder to execute draw shots, as any spin applied would be lost to the cloth after a few revolutions.
These imperfections however, did not stop me from having loads of fun with the table. How could I forget the times where I trained for hours on end even as the O and A levels were approaching? When my math tutor in secondary two, who was also a pool fanatic had a game with me in the middle of math tution during a break? I remember too teaching Royce and Loic and Tzeyong how to play pool on that very table.
But perhaps the greatest memories that I have on that table would be TWOT. The days were Royce and Loic or my maid would hold that lousy video camera for hours, recording my attempts to recreate those amazing trickshots. I would often rush down from the computer room upstairs when i find some new trickshot concept online, and try it out on that table. One particular trickshot took 100+ tries.
Then of course there was the TPA cups, and numerous house parties, christmas... etc. And slowly over time I began to accept and come to love the many quirks that only the table possess, such as the fact that drainage, throw and squirt were so much more amplified on my table. I have even come to love the unique sound that it produces, balls go bouncing into the return system instead of a smooth descent. Theres really nothing like watching a target ball slam hard into Hq pockets and spinning upwards and flying airborne for a few inches before descending into the pocket. And how else would I have mastered the formidable Tian's screw without the fact that the tables cloth absorbed so much spin?
Recently, during the cancer stretch of my life, the pool table to provided a haven for me to get not only entertainment, but also as a means to get some physical activity done, instead of always lying in bed. Often, the first thing that I would do after recovering from chemotherapy was to go and shoot some pool.
The table provided similar support when I was doing my O and A levels, whenever I felt stressed out studying, the table would me with minutes of therapy to get my mind focused again.
Over time, it became not only a toy but a close friend, where I could go to to express all my troubles. Somehow, the table would understand, and take it in, and I always felt better after shooting some balls, whether I was feeling sick or feeling emo or just being bored. And when you're playing pool, things somehow become simple, when things fuck up, its your fault alone, and when you clear, you can have all the glory. Not true in real life.
Right now, I just can't believe that it would be gone tomorrow. How could I sleep, knowing that when I awaken tomorrow my soulmate would be gone? Sure, these days it is rusting away at a small corner in my house, too cramped to show its real glory, but even so, every now and then, I would pick up my viking and have a shot or two for old times sake.
Before typing this blog, I wiped the rails for one last time and hit the cueball one last time, and muttered, "goodbye old friend."
