Don't Let Them

My MVP plaque

There are many things that I love passionately. Architecture (especially the Victorian era), books, gardens, nature, learning, color (in clothing, decor, you know, EVERYWHERE), my family, and shooting pool.

Yesterday, I spent the entire day at an MVP tournament. Shooting pool. Waiting. Lots of waiting. But that was okay. Winning at pool.

It was a long road to get there. I started some four years ago with one team, beyond excited at shooting pool competitively. I hadn't even known that was a thing for any but the most experienced of players, but with the APA (American Poolplayers Association), it was absolutely possible.

I've loved the game since I was ten or eleven, and my stepdad bought this massive, antique table with leather pockets and two-inch-thick slate. It took half the football team to carry into our house it was so heavy.

I'm sure I sucked at it. But Wayne was patient with me and I fell in love with the game. Years later, when I lived in San Jose for two plus years fighting for custody of my eldest, I'd spend nearly every night I didn't have with her playing pool.

There was this bar known as 'Toons that played cartoons, hosted live music, and had some pool tables. I got to know others, which can be hard for an introvert like me, and eventually was a welcomed player there. I'd walk in and the guys would see me and announce, "We're switching to doubles now." They'd add me as their partner and I'd get to play, game after game, until it was time to go home for the night. I loved it. I was miserable fighting for custody, going through a divorce, and shooting pool was just the escape I needed.

And then, in 1997, when I moved back to Missouri, well, there wasn't the same vibe there that I had left behind in San Jose. I walked into a Side Pockets up in the Northland and saw all the tables, but hardly anyone was playing on them in what was likely the middle of the day. I figured my pool playing days were over, and after all, I was a full-time single mom, so I gave up on playing pool and busied myself with other things.

And my patch!

Fast-forward to 2022 and a gal I was Facebook friends with announced she was moving up north to start her own pool league. Wait, what? A pool league? I asked her questions, learned enough to know that I absolutely wanted to play, and jumped in feet first.

Twenty-five years had passed since I played regularly. And I was a nervous wreck. I wanted to play well, especially since it wasn't just shooting pool in a bar, we were competing. Which meant that if I didn't shoot well, I let down seven other people. I quickly learned that our ranking mattered, that we could go on to the playoffs, Tricup, City, and even... Vegas. Every year in Vegas the world championships were held with prize money distributed for Tricup and City tournaments, and a grand prize there in Vegas.

One other thing I found along the way, there on my APA app on my phone, was the MVP qualifiers. Most Valuable Player, divided by your handicap. I'm a Level 3 in 8-ball, which is a standard entry-level position. For a season, maybe two, that rank fell to a Level 2 as I struggled, mainly with a lack of practice and my own insecurities, to improve. After that, it rose to a Level 3, where it has stayed, at least for now. I suspect a Level 4 is in my future once I get better at playing safeties.

A year ago, possibly four seasons ago (there are three playing seasons of 16 weeks each in a year), I noticed I was listed as first in the MVP category, but I needed at least three more matches of 8-ball to qualify (you need 8 matches to qualify). That night I asked for and was allowed to play a match of 8-ball and won. Just two to go. The following week I asked if I could play 8-ball and the captain put me up and again I won. The following week, I asked for the third time if I could play 8-ball and my captain looked at me, frowning. "What's the deal with 8-ball?"

"I'm listed as first in MVP, but I need one more match to qualify."

He rolled his eyes and snapped, "Look, if there's a choice between us going to Tricup and you getting MVP, I'm choosing Tricup."

Well, okay then. A bit of a dick move on his part, but, fair enough. I'd agree that the team comes first. But with my 87% win rate that season, his putting me up in 8-ball made sense. And the two goals were not mutually exclusive. I wasn't doing anything that would hurt our chances at Tricup, I was helping them.

Even though I had improved exponentially and had the scores to prove it, there was little if any recognition or support. When another team member went from a Level 4 to a Level 5, there was plenty of back-slapping and atta boys, but when I did well, not so much. When another member got MVP, he damn near yelled it at the rooftops, and that was okay. Everyone seemed supportive. Why? I have no idea. Perhaps sexism, or perhaps I just didn't fit in, no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes there are no answers. I know I had been there every week, week in and week out, and that I had tried my best with each match I played. I had played well, listened to my captain's and other's coaches, and done my best to ignore the Level 4 who really liked to tell me how lowly and poor a player I was at every opportunity. By this time, my unhappiness with the team was coming home with me.

And a little over a year ago, right at the end of a session, my first team captain texted me to say "It's with a sad and heavy heart that I must inform you I'm dropping you from the team" I'd laugh, but it still makes me mad. He didn't have to utter that bullshit line. A heavy heart? Really?

I was butt hurt, yes, but honestly it was the absolute best thing that could have happened to me. I think I sensed it was coming, and considering I felt that I was being treated as a lesser player in more than just my rank, I had already made a decision to play a second night a week with another team. I wanted more chances to play and to get out of the house, so I had added pool on Tuesdays and also a couple of storytelling events on two Monday nights per month. Still, being cut from the team hurt. They had chosen another Level Three over me, whose win rate was far below mine, and that really hurt. If all he was about was winning, then he would have kept me and ousted her. And so it absolutely did feel personal.

My teen tells me I'm definitely on the autism spectrum. I know that in my early 20s, I had to teach (a.k.a. force) myself to meet other's eyes, hold their gaze. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but I've gotten better over the years. I also have found physical contact with others difficult. This whole non-sexual "now we are going to press our bodies together in a hug" is beyond fucking weird, people. It took me a LONG time to be okay with that. Or if not okay, to not stiffen up because apparently that says you are weird too. My kids have learned to ask for hugs, and I have learned to offer them. It's easier when you are related, but still. And then I joined a pool league, thinking I was relatively safe from bodily contact and they all insist on fist bumps or high fives when they win. Shaking of hands before or after a match is expected as well. I've tried to hide my discomfort until I got used to it all. But it's still there, just... lessened... now that I know what is expected. Now I give firm handshakes, fist bumps, hell, you might even catch a hug or two.

I say all of this so you can understand me. I do these things now, because I understand they are expected, that they are considered "normal" in our society. But always this is accompanied by the very real, very present, understanding that I am different somehow. And let's face it, different is weird, sometimes considered wrong, or unacceptable. I've gotten used to be the odd person out. I wish it weren't so, but understand it's what happens.

Back to that MVP rating...

I had a rough first season with my new team before being cut from my first team, and I joined another new team and did halfway well in it while I bloomed in the other. I managed to hit (and stay) as MVP last fall, holding an 80.56% win rate and helped my team qualify and get into the Tricup tournament. Only an MVP who is ranked 1st in their division gets to go on to the MVP tournament, and I had done it, I had qualified!

Despite every captain I had either telling me it didn't matter, or not to get my hopes up, or reacting in various other non-supportive ways, I had qualified and I eagerly waited for the annual tournament, which was scheduled for Saturday, June 14th.

Driving there, I felt the doubt rise up. What was I doing? I was going to be handed my ass! Everyone played better than me!

And then I remembered that I was one of those better players. I had qualified as first in my division above at least 16 other players who were ranked in the Level 2/Level 3 bracket. I was one of those better players. Me.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "Go. Have fun. Try to win. Play your best. Be yourself. Be kind and friendly and smile."

We all got two matches guaranteed. If we won one, or both, we progressed to a third match. It took a bit of waiting, but finally my first match began. The guy was good, and his team captain was there to support him, which was really cool. The illegal whispered coaches while I was shooting was not as cool, but I ignored it, and played my best. I won a game, he won a game, and I brought it home for a win on the third. YES!!!! I just remember thinking, "Hey, that's awesome because now I get to play a third match for sure!"

Another bit of a wait for a table to open up and I was paired with a rather grim, unsmiling younger woman. Somehow, when folks are friendly, it makes the game more fun. I like the banter, the compliments "good shot" back and forth, and it feels like better sportsmanship, but I know too that not everyone wants to do that. I'm a pretty intense player while I'm at the table. I don't smile, for one. It feels more like a hunt for me when I'm shooting. Like I'm a predator. Everyone shoots different, and interacts different, so while it bummed me out a little, I didn't take it personally.

The first game was over in two innings (I shot, she shot, that's an inning) and she won while I still had most of my balls on the table. The second game I won, and the third game I managed to win as well. Holy cow, Match 2 to me!!!!

About half an hour later, I was matched with a guy who looks pretty familiar and I've played against in league before. He was a sweetheart and this was by far the best match I played. I do love having a connection with others when that level of good sportsmanship comes through and we play like the equals that we are. Pool is a combination of skill and luck, and I believe there is room for us to recognize that as we play, along with a nice dose of levity and personability.

Says the likely autistic one at the keyboard.

He won the first game in one inning, and I fought back that inner voice screaming that I was about to lose the match that mattered. We played a second game and after much tussling back and forth with the 8-ball I won, and then I won again on the third game, winning my third match.

I felt bad for him. Just like me, he had won his first two matches, but he would not be going on to the semi-finals. This seemed a bit inequitable, as the two others he beat, managed to stay on into their third matches by winning one of their own. I headed to our league operator, handed him the score, and he looked up at me and asked, "You won?"

I grinned. "Yes."

He stood up. "Congratulations, you are our first winner in the single elimination. That means you are going on to the Regionals tournament the first Saturday in October with a chance to go on a paid trip to Vegas next year. Flight, hotel stay and meals, all paid for."

Me, disheveled, did I even brush my hair yesterday? But I won!

I think my mouth fell open at that point. I knew that down the line in the tournament we were competing for a cue stick, a nice one, but I didn't know about the Regionals or Vegas. That was wholly unexpected. I would go on to play the same guy I just beat in a few informal games while I waited for Match 4, get invited to join another team by his captain after I beat the snot out of him another two games in a row, and then finally lost my 4th match in the semi-finals.

Damn, I wouldn't have minded a fancy new stick. I would have etched my name into it and carried it around like a prize pig!

Still, I've qualified for Regionals and that is an AMAZING accomplishment. I fell asleep last night smiling.

So here's the long and short of it, if you've made it this far. I've put up with plenty of individuals who sold me short at pretty much every opportunity instead of encouraging me. And despite them, I made MVP and qualified for Regionals. And I'm pretty fucking proud of myself right now. And honestly? I have the right to be proud.

Note: I also had some lovely fellow players who were kind, supportive, and thoughtful. And those are the ones I appreciate the most. They showed me kindness and support. Several reached out to me to ask how I did and I really appreciated that.

Every day, there are those who would hold you back. They do it for a myriad of reasons - ignorance, their own incompetence, insecurities, jealousy, or even a misguided belief that encouragement would mean fostering hope where little or none is warranted.

Don't listen to them and don't let them hold you back. If you love it, and you want it, go for it. You can handle a little disappointment, and nothing worthwhile comes easily. Believe in yourself. Believe in your abilities. Don't let others to tell you who you are or what you can do. Don't let them do that. You are better than that.

Me at Tricup earlier this year, deep in the zone, not even realizing I was being photographed