08-02-2002, 12:49 AM
I remember the first time I ever got advice from an insructor, the first thing this person told me to do was relax. "Relax what?" I thought. Be like Jello? It's been years since that day and still, I have problems relaxing.
You can feel it, too. After playing in a match or tournament, your head hurts or your arm aches a little. It doesn't matter how good you are or how good you've gotten, you can still get tense and perform well. Ask Jim Rempe, he accidentally broke his cue during the U.S. Open 2000 straight pool while he watched the cue-ball scratch. He got so tense, his cue literally snapped between his fingers. Even at the time, I knew this was a display of wasted emotion. Anger or frustration manifested physically cannot help your game in the long run. Evenso, Jim Rempe is one of the best players on the planet.
So recently, I started trying to grasp this aspect of relaxing. I knew that my most consistent game was found when I didn't need to try. I remember telling a friend of mine, don't be a person who plays pool. Be a poolplayer. Play as though you were made to play like a car was made to go.
Remembering this, I approached the table without any emotion, without any distracting thoughts. My brow relaxed and my eyes focused on the target without any effort. I stroked the cue a few times and fired without any conscious record of the number of practice strokes. I shot when it felt right to shoot. After pocketing the ball, my conscious mind reemerged to examine the next situation but the deduction was kept simple. What is the best route? Decision made. Now execute.
The time flew. I could feel the difference throughout my body. There was no need for deliberate deep breathes. I didn't feel the imprint my crunched brow made. Don't get me wrong, I missed but I felt more aware as to why I missed. The emotional stigma to pocketing or missing was gone and with every miss, I felt as though my game only got stronger. I viewed missing as an opportunity to correct a flaw. Watching Efren Reyes play, his reactions to success and failure only solidified my beliefs. After an incredible shot, he simply gets up and moves to the next with the same focus given to the last. After a miss, he simply stands up, smiles and scratches his head. The turn is over. It's time to sit.
He's like a cannon, built to shoot straight every single time. Calibrated. The only emotion that exists is trust. Present from the moment he examined the target on the object ball to the moment his tip made contact with the cue-ball. No steering the cue-ball by gripping his cue tight nor did he scrunch his brow in the hopes that maybe this would make his eye-sight better or his brain work more. When you're built to be a poolplayer, effort isn't required. He allows his game to flow with the same instinctual approach a child would have with running.
I guess, the most startling troubles that I've had with this approach have to do with reassigning responsibility. I no longer blame the table or the balls or my opponent's rude behaivor. My ability to focus remains within me and my ability to direct that focus to pool also remains within me. If a professional poolplayer can run 100 balls on the crappy table with the cheap balls with the music at full volume then he's proven that it can be done. There is no excuse to miss outside yourself. The cannon that was built to shoot straight will do so in practice and in competition. On good days and bad. When winning or losing.
I know that people are different but from this point on, I'm not a person when I play pool. I'm a poolplayer.
Jude M. Rosenstock
You can feel it, too. After playing in a match or tournament, your head hurts or your arm aches a little. It doesn't matter how good you are or how good you've gotten, you can still get tense and perform well. Ask Jim Rempe, he accidentally broke his cue during the U.S. Open 2000 straight pool while he watched the cue-ball scratch. He got so tense, his cue literally snapped between his fingers. Even at the time, I knew this was a display of wasted emotion. Anger or frustration manifested physically cannot help your game in the long run. Evenso, Jim Rempe is one of the best players on the planet.
So recently, I started trying to grasp this aspect of relaxing. I knew that my most consistent game was found when I didn't need to try. I remember telling a friend of mine, don't be a person who plays pool. Be a poolplayer. Play as though you were made to play like a car was made to go.
Remembering this, I approached the table without any emotion, without any distracting thoughts. My brow relaxed and my eyes focused on the target without any effort. I stroked the cue a few times and fired without any conscious record of the number of practice strokes. I shot when it felt right to shoot. After pocketing the ball, my conscious mind reemerged to examine the next situation but the deduction was kept simple. What is the best route? Decision made. Now execute.
The time flew. I could feel the difference throughout my body. There was no need for deliberate deep breathes. I didn't feel the imprint my crunched brow made. Don't get me wrong, I missed but I felt more aware as to why I missed. The emotional stigma to pocketing or missing was gone and with every miss, I felt as though my game only got stronger. I viewed missing as an opportunity to correct a flaw. Watching Efren Reyes play, his reactions to success and failure only solidified my beliefs. After an incredible shot, he simply gets up and moves to the next with the same focus given to the last. After a miss, he simply stands up, smiles and scratches his head. The turn is over. It's time to sit.
He's like a cannon, built to shoot straight every single time. Calibrated. The only emotion that exists is trust. Present from the moment he examined the target on the object ball to the moment his tip made contact with the cue-ball. No steering the cue-ball by gripping his cue tight nor did he scrunch his brow in the hopes that maybe this would make his eye-sight better or his brain work more. When you're built to be a poolplayer, effort isn't required. He allows his game to flow with the same instinctual approach a child would have with running.
I guess, the most startling troubles that I've had with this approach have to do with reassigning responsibility. I no longer blame the table or the balls or my opponent's rude behaivor. My ability to focus remains within me and my ability to direct that focus to pool also remains within me. If a professional poolplayer can run 100 balls on the crappy table with the cheap balls with the music at full volume then he's proven that it can be done. There is no excuse to miss outside yourself. The cannon that was built to shoot straight will do so in practice and in competition. On good days and bad. When winning or losing.
I know that people are different but from this point on, I'm not a person when I play pool. I'm a poolplayer.
Jude M. Rosenstock