Joseph and I headed out toward Guadalajara but without Ed, it seemed somewhat different. It was like a part of us was not here, we did not speak of it, but we missed the third "musketeer" immediately. We probably felt as though we should exercise a little more care in our decisions now, without Ed's good sense of reality to temper our sometimes hasty (and sometimes potentially dangerous) decisions, especially when Tequila is involved, and it often was. But, the dynamics of life are what gives the spice, and we pressed on toward Guadalajara with me at the wheel and the Caddie running perfectly, not a trace of the dreaded "vapor locking" which had plagued us earlier. By late afternoon we had arrived at, and checked into, the Hotel Tres Estrellas just in time for siesta.

Upon awakening, we leave the hotel, I remember the "billares" and we walk the four blocks and enter. I just love poolrooms, at least the old fashioned or traditional type. There is a certain smell and feel to these establishments. Although not mentioned at length in these chronicles, I had visited other billares during this trip to Mexico. Probably the most notable difference in the rooms in Mexico compared to the US, is the fact that most of the tables in Mexico (in my 1974 travels) are true billiard tables, not pool tables and there are virtually no snooker tables. The billiard tables with no pockets are carom billiards and the pool tables with pockets, of course, pocket billiards. I had cut my eye teeth on three cushion billiards (caroms) during a period of wasted youth which had begun in the late '50's and continued (with some interruptions) right on through until 1967. However, almost as though fate had willed it, in 1972, even after moving to rural Mammoth, I discovered a wonderful table at [the late] Hank Roth's "The Club" in Mammoth Lakes.*

In any case, we enter the room and much to our surprise we are welcomed in as old friends! The owner of the room remembered me from my earlier visit of a few months before. We order beers, but when they are brought we are not permitted to pay. The owner treats us as visiting dignitaries. We are very surprised and baffled by all this, but as time passes it all starts to come together. Spanish is the only language being spoken, save for a few very broken English words by the proprietor of the billares. It takes a while for it to sink in as he speaks to everyone in the room that I am a visiting professional player from Los Angeles! He further explains that I frequent his brother's billares in Los Angeles and that I am going to play an exhibition match that very evening right here on the front table in this very establishment! It takes a while for this to sink in because I am so flabbergasted that I think my Spanish is letting me down. Finally, after much explaining, I realize that we are to return at eight that evening and I will be playing a match against the local champion, the very gentleman that I had unsuccessfully tried to match up with on my earlier visit a few months before! Joseph seems mildly amused at what is going on. He has no love for, nor any knowledge of, three cushion billiards. He thinks that all the time I have invested in learning to play the game was basically wasted. I should have gotten a job instead. He had always thought that, and maybe he was right, but that is neither here nor there right now. We would return at eight that evening to play the match. Meanwhile, we looked for a good meal.

After eating we returned to the billiard room (billares) at the agreed upon time. What we experienced surprised us both. As we entered the room, we are most enthusiastically received. It seems as though the proprietor has turned this into a marketing coup for his room. The place is packed with billiards enthusiasts. Chairs have been moved into place for perfect viewing and everything is set up immaculately. The table has been brushed and cleaned, the balls are glistening and several cuesticks are prominently displayed on the table. New chalks have been placed at strategic places along the rails. The mahogany rails have been cleaned and polished. We shake hands with a dozen or so people as introductions are made. One quick note here, these men are all speaking Spanish, and we don't know exactly what is being said. I have an advantage over Joseph because of my familiarity with the environment, I know more of what is going on than he does. But, Joseph is very observant and has a genuine, almost uncanny, savvy for being able to draw correct conclusions based on his observations. Joseph is placed in a seat of honor right next to the proprietor, as though he has been labeled as some kind of road manager.

Billiards, although it does not enjoy the same popularity with Americans, is very well known and widely played throughout Mexico, indeed it is a very popular pastime. This is my first taste of "city billiards" I had played in many rural rooms, but aside from a room I had briefly played in while in Tepic, this was my first contact with the urban side of billiards. At this point the owner closes the room and locks the door. There are probably 50 people in the room all gathered, seated around the front table ready to watch this match. The owner then introduces the local player, Enrique something or other, I can't remember his last name. We shake hands and there is even a small round of applause. (At this point, I am dumbfounded, this is almost like a dream.) I am invited to select a cue, (from the preselected lot on the table) and to hit the balls around to warm up a little. I do just that as Enrique does the same on the next table. As I warm up, Joseph and I are offered drinks, we accept, once again we are not permitted to pay. After I have warmed up sufficiently, I stop shooting and wait at the table for Enrique. He comes over, we agree upon a match of three games, twenty- five points each. We will not play the "sin choque" (no kisses) rules very commonly played in Mexico, but instead the international rules more common to American play.

We lag for the first shot of the game and I win. I make the break shot and two more before missing, to my surprise there is a smattering of applause from the onlookers. Enrique shoots and makes a most difficult shot, the audience enthusiastically, yet quietly, applauds. I am somewhat amazed, I have never played a match where there was an audience before, let alone a knowledgeable audience. It becomes obvious to me that I probably will not be able to defeat Enrique, he is a good player, and his local table knowledge gives him a definite edge. However, I am used to playing for money, and I realize that there is no danger of losing any here in this match, so I just settle down and try to play a game that will look good, after all this is supposed to be an exhibition. Fortunately, I play a little over my head, perhaps it is the audience, but nevertheless after losing the first game by a score of 25-21, I seem to loosen up quite a bit in the second and while making quite a few "fancy" shots, (which all draw applause and cheers from the audience) I actually manage to win the second game by a comfortable margin of 25-18. Now I feel as though I can win the rubber game. I am acquainted with the table and its individual rolls and quirks. Each table has its own unique characteristics. I am very pumped up after my second game victory. The final game is played far more conservatively than the first two. We are both cautious and each play somewhat defensively, being careful not to leave the other player any easy or "natural" shots. We play on until the score is 22-17 in favor of Enrique. Then I get a good roll, make three points and leave Enrique a very difficult shot which he misses. I am then able to make three more points leaving the score at 23-22, in my favor. Enrique makes one point on a very difficult shot which requires a tremendous amount of English. His ball spins around the table dramatically before just barely reaching the third ball, thus invoking a great cheer from the now clearly biased onlookers. No points are scored for a few innings, but finally I am left with an opportunity. It is a difficult shot, but definitely makeable. Not only that, if this shot (it's a smash through reverse spin out) is successful, it will be the shot of the day, I cannot resist. I try the shot, shooting my ball into the red ball, which is frozen on the side rail approximately two feet from the corner. I shoot very hard with high right-hand English and force my ball to smash through the red, my ball then loops out, and with great speed and English, follows back to the side rail, continues to the end rail and reverses itself back to the side rail spinning back in dramatic fashion toward the other white ball (located about three feet from the end rail and about a foot from the side rail) and then just barely slips by, but without making contact. I have missed the point by just a hair. There is a noticeable sympathetic groan, then modest applause for the effort. However, I have left Enrique a very makeable shot, which he executes perfectly. He then follows with another fine shot to close out the game at 25-23 and the match at two games to one. He smiles and comes around the table to shake my hand, I rise and we shake hands and compliment each other on a fine match. There is a wonderful round of applause from the audience, handshakes from the owner and all around in general. We enjoy a final beer and some conversation about the game and billiards in general. I learn that there is a very important billiard tournament being played in Mexico City, this accounts for the interest in the "profesional" (me) being in Guadalajara I guess. In my heart I am aware that I have not played one of the great players of Guadalajara, (they would have defeated me much easier) they are probably all in Mexico City either playing in or watching the big tournament, but I have enjoyed my "fifteen minutes" in this modest neighborhood billares playing with Enrique and meeting all these fine gentlemen. Indeed, it is a once in a lifetime type experience that I will never forget, and has rekindled my own interest in three cushion billiards. When I later return to Mammoth and recount the story to Hank at The Club, I can sense that he was proud for me. After all, he has put in a lot of hours showing me some of the finer points of billiards to improve my game. In all honesty, the game I brought to Hank would not have fared very well in this match tonight, I would have been beaten badly. This is the first time I have had a chance to use the knowledge and the shots Hank has shown me. It has been most enlightening and most gratifying. Thank you Hank, and R.I.P.

In any case, we return to the Hotel Tres Estrellas. In the morning we shall leave Guadalajara and return to San Blas for some more beach time.

*It was although I had been predetermined to play 3 cushion. No matter what happened in my life, exposure to billiards always seemed to continue on, with or without my help. And the truth of the matter was that, although I truly thought my contact with billiards was a thing of the past, and actually thought that I had grown out of that "phase" of my life, no matter where I went, and no matter what I did, I always seemed to return to billiards. Hank had been a wonderful player his entire life, well known at "The Mecca" in Santa Monica where he played for years prior to his retirement and subsequent move to retirement at Mammoth Lakes.. In his golden years he and Lily had retired to Mammoth Lakes and opened a ten-table poolroom, called "The Club." There was only one billiard table, and that only because of his love of the game. (It was always kept covered except when being played on) The space it occupied brought little revenue. Hank had been pleasantly surprised to find an experienced playing companion in such a rural environment. Subsequently, he and I struck up a wonderful playing relationship, and a friendship as well. He was an excellent player and willing teacher. He demonstrated to me many of the finer points of the game, improving my play to the point where he had a very competitive opponent. I was very sad at the death of this fine gentleman a few years later.

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Copyright 1996 by R.P. Folsom. All rights reserved.