We’d All Be Worse Without A Nurse
I walked into the bar dressed in my nurse’s disguise. A white lab coat with stethoscope peeking out of one of the side pockets. It was one of the many upscale bars on Long Island in New York in the sixties. I picked this bar because it was only a few blocks from a large hospital and I heard there was a lot of money bet on the pool games there. The deep dark oak walls breathed money. Most of the men and women in it were from the courthouse across the street. The majority of them were lawyers, with a few others scattered in with high profile jobs. At five on a Friday afternoon the place was full. It had a long Mahogany bar on one wall, running half way to the back of the place. On the other side were plush dark green booths that looked to sit about eight people each. In the back were tables and chairs. Then in the back of those were the tables I was interested in. There were four nice eight-foot Brunswick antique tables. The sound of the balls clicking together always sent chills up my spine when I walked into a strange place.
As you have gathered by now, I’m not really a nurse. My mom is a nurse and I worked as an orderly in a hospital for four months when I was eighteen. I know enough of the lingo that I have even fooled other nurses at bars. My profession is pool player. At twenty-five, I have been playing pool since I was seven. My dad was a pool hustler before he got married to my mom and settled down. He bought a ten-table poolroom when I was three years old, out in East Islip on Long Island. He taught me how to hustle without getting hurt doing it. I have run over one hundred balls without missing on a regulation four and a half by nine-foot table many times. These eight- footers in here would be like shooting ducks in a barrel.
I was waiting for my friend Bobby to come in to start the hustle. Bobby and I grew up in Oceanside on the South West End of the island. He had been a pretty good pool player until he lost most of his left arm to a propeller in a boating accident three years ago. There was just the stump left, just before where the elbow would be now. He still could beat the average player with one arm. We have pulled this hustle many times in the last year. We both have our parts perfected like good actors.
Bobby walked in dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a cream-colored sport shirt with a little alligator logo on it. Nice touch I thought. He walked up and sat on the barstool next to me. After he ordered his drink we began to make some small talk.
“Busy in here this evening.” He said.
“It sure does a nice business. My name is Johnny Sax. This is my first time here too. I work for a nursing agency and worked at the hospital down the street today. I just stopped in here for a few drinks to wind down.” I said loud enough for the bartender and the people on my left and right to hear.
“Glad to meet you. My name is Bob Fuller. I’m a boat broker.” He said.
“How is the boat business these days?”
“Not too bad, I just sold a thirty-six foot Chris-Craft today.”
“That’s great. What happened to your arm if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I fell off a boat and the guy that was driving it ran over me trying to save me.”
“The prop got you?”
“Almost took the whole thing off right in the water. It was so badly mangled that they had to amputate it.”
“Geez I’m sorry. That has to be rough.”
“I’m use to it now. I don’t have a problem doing many things. I went down to Tampa General in Florida for their rehab unit. It’s one of the best in the country.”
“I have heard that.”
What kind of nurse are you?”
“I’m an Orthopedic RN. I work out of an agency in East Rockaway.”
“Can I buy you another beer?” Bobby asked.
“Yes I’ll have another, thank you.”
We sat there talking back and forth until Bobby spotted one of the pool tables with no players on it.
“Do you play pool Johnny?”
“Yes I play a little.”
“Come on grab your beer and lets play a few games.”
“Sounds like a plan. I haven’t played pool in a few months.” I lied.
“Are you trying to hustle me Johnny?” He laughed.
“I would never do that to someone with one arm.”
“I’m only kidding with you. But don’t be surprised if I beat you. I play in a pool league twice a week and have a five rating.”
“Is that high?”
“Seven is the highest you can get. Most people that have a seven are close to being pros.”
After I racked the balls up he asked if I wanted to make it interesting and play for five dollars a game.
“Sure I’ll play you for five. Good luck to you.”
“Call the pocket the eight is going in before you shoot it.”
“That’s the way I’m use to playing.” I said.
By the time we played five games that I won all of, people had gathered around the table to watch in disgust at me hustling a guy with one arm. Our bet was up to twenty for the sixth game. I could already hear people talking around the table what a bastard I was for taking money from a cripple. This was going well so far.
“That’s six games in a row you won. I guess I can’t beat you.” Bobby said.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a spot of two games in a first one to five games set.”
“Are you saying I only have to win three games to your five?”
“That’s the deal.”
“That I can’t turn down. For how much?”
How about a hundred?”
“Don’t be a fool kid. He’s too good for you.” A guy sitting at a table with another guy and two young women said.
“Why don’t you mind your own business buddy?” I said to him.
“You should be ashamed of yourself playing someone like that for money.”
“He was the one that asked to play for money, not me.”
When the score was four games for me and three for Bobby the guy hollered out again.
“Can’t you see you can’t beat this guy with one arm? He’s pretty good when he knows he can’t loose.”
I had been very careful not to run anymore than two or three balls at a time. I looked like a little better than average player to the people standing and sitting at tables around us.
“If you think you can do better than him, pick up a cue. This game will be over in a few minutes and we can play for whatever you want to loose.” I said as nasty as I could.
“I don’t play that well but my friend Jerry here put himself through Yale shooting pool. If you are not afraid to play someone with two arms I‘ll bet you a hundred a game he beats your ass.”
“Why don’t you make it five hundred for first to win three games?”
“Do you even have five hundred?” He asked like the snob he was.
I took out my bankroll of a little over two grand and flashed it for the crowd to see in case they wanted to bet me any side action.
“Do you have five hundred? Or are you just all mouth?”
“You’re on punk.”
I shook hands with Jerry and said good luck.
“I don’t need any luck to beat you.” He snapped.
“We shall see won’t we?”
“Put your five hundred up on the table over their loser.” He said.
He won the coin toss to see who got to break the balls first. Over at the table where Bobby sat I could hear people coming up to him and side betting against me. I couldn’t hear how much was being bet, but I knew Bobby had at least three thousand on him.
“Kiss your five hundred-goodbye chump.” Jerry said as he broke the balls up.
“Kiss my ass college boy.”
It was funny how anyone that could pick up a pool cue and went to college says he put himself through it by hustling pool. I always love playing one of those guys. I haven’t met one yet that could play worth a damn.
Jerry was pretty good. He ran five balls, making some nice shots, but he didn’t have a clue where the cue ball was going to wind up after his shots and left himself no shot on his next ball. I knew right then that this was going to be like stealing from a baby. It’s not that pro pool players are that much better shot makers than a better than average player. It’s because they control the cue ball and hardly ever have a tough shot to make. Cue ball position is at least seventy-five percent of the game.
“Watch and learn Jerry.” I said getting down to shoot a ball in the corner pocket.
I made sure that I didn’t make any fancy bank shots and made sure a few balls wobbled in the jaws of the pockets before they dropped in. He never got back to the table.
“Chalk up one game for me.” I said.
“Your lucky you made three of those shots. They could just as easily have stayed out of the pocket.” Jerry said disgustedly.
“Are we starting to make excuses already?”
“Just get up to the table and shoot lucky.”
“Oh my, you have me shaking now. I can hardly hold the cue still.”
“You’re shaking because you never played for five hundred in your life.” He said.
“Want to make it a thousand?” I asked.
“Oh sure now that your up one game.”
“How about next game or is five hundred all your girlfriend would let you play for.”
“You’re on jerk. Next game for a grand.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Play pool a******.”
This was almost too easy I thought to myself.
Jerry won the next game because I let him. Then I won the next two to win the set and the five hundred.
Are you ready for the game for a grand?” I asked.
“Lets make it first one to win seven games for a thousand.” Jerry said.
“Usually people up the stakes when they make the game longer.” I teased.
“We already raised it to a thousand.”
“Oh I forgot. I always heard those Yale guys choked on anything over a thousand sorry.”
“I’ll put up another thousand for Jerry.” Jerry’s friend said.
“I could see his wife or girlfriend wasn’t at all happy with him.
“You’re on, and this is my last game. I’ve been up since four this morning and need to get some sleep before work tomorrow. So if anyone wants anymore action just let me know now.”
Everyone was silent around the table. I think they finally got it that they were being hustled. One thing about lawyers is that they won’t hit you. Which was a good thing because we were out numbered about fifty to two in this bar.
“Ok lets do it, one race to seven for two grand, flip a coin for the break Jerry boy.”
“I got your boy right here chump.” Jerry said holding the groin area of his pants.
“Stop that Jerry.” His girlfriend said.
I called heads.
“Tails it is, you break needle dick.” I said.
By now old Jerry was so mad he couldn’t hold the stick still. I walked over to the table where Bobby was sitting alone and asked how much we were up in side bets.
“We’re up twenty-seven hundred plus the five hundred you won. This game I only got five hundred bet on the side. Most of them have figured it out. Do you think we might have trouble getting out with our money?”
“Nah, these candy ass lawyers don’t fight. They try to sue you. What are they going to sue us for? Gambling is illegal.”
Jerry was putting up a good fight on the table. He had won three games before I one my first. I could see he was starting to feel comfortable at the table. Time to change that attitude. I won two games in a row, making the score three to two his favor.
“Here I come Jerry, kiss your money goodbye.”
Jerry didn’t say anything. I could see he was really starting to sweat. The under arms of his light blue dress shirt were so wet they were about to start dripping. When he missed a shot I said to him.
“Hey Jerry, your under arms are leaking. Try not to drip on the felt. It makes the balls skid.”
“f*** you.” He snapped.
“Jerry, watch your mouth.” His girlfriend or wife yelled at him.
“Shut up Becky.” He said.
With that Becky got up, grabbed her purse and walked out.
“Oh my, you’re losing all that money and your lady too. I’d call that a bad night for a Yale man.”
“Just shoot the ball.” He said while watching Becky hurry out the door.
“I feel like it’s all me from here out Jerry. I feel like I can’t miss.”
I won the next three games, running the table without him getting a shot in two of the games. He won the next game to make the score six to four my favor.
“You don’t look so good Jerry. If you need a nurse, I’m your man.” I laughed.
After I ran three balls and missed Jerry ran five before he missed an easy shot in the side pocket. The crowd around the table groaned in unison.
“Put your cue away Jerry, it’s all over for you.”
Jerry didn’t say a word. He just sat there staring at the pocket he had missed his shot in. He knew that had been his last chance.
I ran the rest of the balls out for the win. After we collected our money I said to Jerry in a low voice.
“How does it feel for a Yale man to get hustled from a high school dropout?”
He just sat in his chair looking like he got worked over by some mob goons.
“Well you all have a good night now. And thanks for taking it easy on me”
As Bobby and I were walking to the front door I looked back to see some of Jerry’s friends holding him down in the chair.
Out in the parking lot Bobby said.
“Why can’t you just be happy beating them for their money? Do you have to degrade them also?”
“He was a little rich snob. I can’t stand them.”
“Well you won over five grand total. Can you stand that?”
How much did you make on the side bets?”
Thirty-four hundred and you get half of it.”
“Nah just give me a grand. I have the twenty-five I won from Yale man. You keep the rest. We had a real good score. You played your part perfect Bobby.”
“Do you want to call it a night or stop at the 400 club for some drinks?”
“I’m going to call it a night. I think I con people so much that I conned myself into thinking I really got up at four and worked as a nurse today.” I laughed.
“Ok call me if you get another hustle you can use me on.”
“I will Bobby and thanks.”
END