Nobody puts Baby in the corner

I think I may have lost my mind in Reno this weekend at the US Bar Table Championships. Watching all those great strokes was inspiring, but it got me to thinking: its virtually impossible for me to get in the practice time I need to really improve in the way I would like.

I have a full-time job. Actually, its more than a full-time job. I have no car, and either pool hall in the city is 2 buses away, so I have to plan for about 2.5 hours to get in 1 hour of practice. At the end of a long day or a long week, its sometimes hard to drag myself on public transit, even if I really want to practice.

So this is what I'm considering: taking out my couch and putting a pool table in the corner. Yes, in the corner. Think about it....there are an awful lot of drills you can do with only two sides. I kind of like the idea of it not being a fully functional table. I'm thinking the limited access will make me want to do drills rather than just hit balls around.

The deal would be to do it for one year, and then sell the table (unless I really loved the set up). At the same time, I'd give up cable for the year (which is just a waste of money) to help pay for the table in case I can't find something cheap on Craigslist.

So here's the part I'm unsure about....it does kind of mean that I'm devoting a large part of my everyday living space to pool. I'm fortunate to live in a 1-bedroom, so I would effectively start living in a studio with a pool training room, almost completely taken up by a pool table. (i.e. you can't flop down on the green felt at the end of a long day to relax and watch House. It would take up a lot of my space.)

Is this crazy?

Or given the amount of mental space that pool already takes up, does it make perfect sense?

Is there anyway to know unless I try?

Well, the tape measure is out and I'm working on the redesign of my apartment. Not sure I will actually go through with it, but stay tuned.

and never looked back...

Yes, in case you were wondering, I have stayed league-free. And I'm happy about it. There were those who doubted I could really do it. Even now when I say I'm taking a break from playing league, some people think that means I'm playing only one night. Others were sure that once the season rolled around that some invitation to join a team would pull me back in. There were invitations, and they were declined.

I've been to league nights. Sweated friends' matches. Enjoyed a spirited beverage or two. And never once have I regretted not being in the line up. I'll admit that I can feel a slight loss of edge, not having that weekly competition, but the reality is I think that was slipping anyway.

And now the fun begins. I've long wanted to go back and take a good look at my fundamentals and rebuild, something that just seemed too hard when I was competing weekly. That may have just been an excuse. Truth is I dread doing it, but know it must be done if I want to get to another level.

Aargh.
The video. The dreaded watching myself on video.
The drills. The dreaded drills that I loved when I first started and I did until I couldn't stand them anymore.
The awkward, not-comfortable feeling of changing well-grooved habits. ick.

Oh well, I'm a masochist anyway, so sign me up.

Why pep talks don't work...

I came in second in a tournament this weekend, after missing an easy 8-ball hill-hill. It was the classic scenario. The seven ball was the tough one. Make it, and the 8 & 9 were easy shots with natural shape. I just got down on that 8-ball and thought a second too long, took an extra practice stroke....lordy, I have no idea what kind of stroke came from my arm, it was some kind of twisty-exorcist kind of craziness!

I just laughed, as I've been in one of those awkward periods where nothing feels quite right--not my cue, not my stance, not my stroke, not my bridge...I'm just off. I've come to accept this as a "refinement" phase, so I was surprised and happy just to be in the finals.

A fellow competitor who I've gotten to know a little bit decided to stay to root me on. Once I made it to the semi-finals he said that he was going to stay to watch me win this. He kept saying things like "You can do it." " I know you can win this thing." "All the way." Sometimes he sat next to me during the match, and when my opponent missed he'd say, "There you go!"

It was really awkward for me because he's a really nice guy and meant well. I know that I wasn't exuding confidence (refinement phase and all, you know), but I was comfortable where I was. Despite all his positivity, his comments made me feel less confident. They were meant to build me up, but they actually made me feel small.

Here is my translation of the pep talk:
"I'm not sure you're going to win this match. Its possible you could win this match, but I think you need some help. I'm going to try to encourage you to by being really positive, because I'm not confident you will do it on your own."


I feel a little bad even writing this because I know that he really wanted to see me win, and maybe for some people those words would have been really encouraging and helpful. If he had said, "That's a really tough match, you don't have a chance," it would have been much less distracting.I didn't ask him to stop, and perhaps I should have. I tend to believe that I need to develop the skills to block out anything that is unhelpful. Maybe I just need to work on how I internally translate those type of comments. Its not the first time that I've been felt undermined by them.

The mental game is so personal...what works for one person doesn't work for the next. Hell, what works in one moment, doesn't always work in the next. I think one place where people misstep is they forget to start with the present....accepting whatever mental state you (or the person you're coaching is) are in. Good mental coaching doesn't build confidence....it uncovers it. The pep talk, if not done right, is trying to cover up whatever is wrong with something pretty. It tries to compensate for doubt, which for me, makes it harder to let doubt fade away.

Confidence is an unconditional state in which you simply possess an unwavering state of mind that needs no reference point. There is no room for doubt; even the question of doubt does not occur. --- Venerable Chogyam Trungpa from Shambala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior.

(This post needs some serious editing, but I haven't posted in awhile, so I'm just going to let her ride...Happy New Year!)