Ones Love for a Hobby

Ones Love For A Hobby

Walking into a very large room, over five-thousand of the greatest amateur pool players in the world stand. There is over one hundred thousand square feet of red carpet. Sitting there is two hundred and forty valley pool tables. The smell of hundreds of cigarettes, and sweat from thousands of nervous people, is nauseating. Skyboxes on the second floor are mesmerizing. The view is intensified by thousands of personally designed pool sticks, which bring many different characteristics to the already over populated room.

Past the many beer venders and the ripe smell of hotdogs in the morning is table number one hundred and three. The balls on the table resemble easter eggs in the freshly mowed grass. As one ball chases after the other, the opponent realizes he may have no chance at the eight ball. With thousands of people from different countries and ethnic backgrounds, loud whispers and laughter is irritating him past his point.

The man this opponent fears is John, a professional amateur pool player, who has fought his way to be here like so many others. John is slender but tall, almost too tall, for he almost hits the hot lights above the table after performing a shot. His demeanor towards the game is cocky but hopeful. He knows he has the ability but knows he may not make every shot. As John leans down to take his shot, a feeling of nervousness comes over him. Although it is muffled, he can hear people talking. He feels as though he is moving in slow motion. The lights are making him feel lightheaded and the hot dog smell is making him want to puke. This game is everything to him, yet at this moment, he feels he could just give up, just to run to the restroom. At that moment John comes back to reality and realizes he cannot let the environment take