Hollywood Style

In my teenage years, when I sometimes played pool for money, there were many unwritten rules to navigate.

One, an obvious one, was that a player gambling on a game cannot receive serious strategy coaching from someone who is watching. It’s okay to chat with friends on the sidelines, but not to get a direct opinion.

If I shoot this ball in that pocket, is there room for it to go in cleanly, or is it blocked by that other ball? A millimeter difference could mean a lot of money. No advice.

People who wanted to watch a serious game (a game with money wagered) were expected to stay seated a respectful distance away. They could watch the action, but too far to bump a player or to give precise advice.

So one day, in the midst of my game, a pool hall elder passed by. He paused, looked at me, and asked “How are you making out?” Of course he could see the table and judge for himself. I took a step back, folded my arms and rested against my cue stick.

“Well, the guy I’m playing is pretty good. What do you think I should do here?” I asked. We both knew that coaching is forbidden, and my opponent was watching closely to be sure we didn’t overstep.

“Play Hollywood Style,” my mentor declared in a bold voice.

“What’s Hollywood Style?” I had never heard of this technique. He smirked. Pointing at the table, speaking slowly and deliberately, he gave my answer:

“Shoot — and don’t miss!” he laughed and walked on.

As a teen looking for an identity, I admired some of the classic accoutrements of pool players. One day in a jewelry store, when I was perhaps 15 years old, I found a silver money clip. It had unique decorative art and a Tiger’s Eye stone for good luck.

I immediately felt this had to be part of my identity, so I bought it. At that age, it was a substantial investment for me.

I never used it much, but it has great sentimental value.

In 2022, I had the words “Hollywood Style” engraved onto it.

“Shoot, and don’t miss” seems like sound guidance, even beyond the pool table.