A Lesson in Humility

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By Michael Avery

“Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else.”
—Will Rogers

I am often amazed at the lengths to which the Universe will go in order to teach us a particular lesson. Take humility for example…

Years ago, my older brother owned an amusement company featuring pinball machines and coin-operated pool tables. Needless to say, I spent considerable time playing pool. Eight ball was my favorite game.

For those unfamiliar with the game, there are 7 striped balls and 8 solid colored balls. The eight ball is a solid color, but differentiated from the others in that the eight ball must go in any pocket last after a player has pocketed his striped balls or solid ones.

After one player breaks the rack, if a striped ball goes in a pocket, then he must focus on the rest of the stripes while the opponent must knock in the solid colors. If a stripe and a solid go in, the player has his choice. As I stated, the eight ball goes in last and that constitutes a win for the fortunate or lucky player.

If a player inadvertently knocks the eight ball in before his other balls are pocketed, the player loses the game. There is one exception: If the player who goes first, breaking the racked balls and the eight ball goes in, then he automatically wins the game. Initially, the eight ball always goes in the center of the rack in a specific location, by the way.

My brother’s partner in the amusement venture, Jim, was quite adept at pool. He showed me one time that one could strike the white cue ball just to the right of center and send it toward the second ball back in the rack (this would be the blue colored 2 ball in the image below). In theory, this kicks the eight ball across the table and into the side pocket on the opposite side. On rare occasions, I was able to accomplish this, winning the game instantly.

So what about this lesson in humility? Well, in the town where I lived there was a pool player slightly younger than I was who fancied himself the best player in the circles we frequented in our early twenties.

Kenny was pretty good. I’ll give him that, although we had never played head to head. Kenny had asked me on more than one occasion to play for five dollars a game. I had always declined, not wanting to catch the gambling bug. Furthermore, I was willing to let Kenny wear the crown of the best pool player in our circle.

One day, however, Kenny approached me again requesting a game to prove that he was the better player. He and I would meet in private at 5:00 o’clock with no one around, just him and me. Surprising myself, I agreed.

The day of our meeting, I found myself feeling a little bit nervous. I needed to calm my nerves, so I sang HU, the ancient name for God that had soothed my nerves on other occasions.

The time came, and Kenny ceremoniously took out his custom cue from its black leather case. We would “lag” to see who got the honor breaking first. This involved taking turns sending the cue ball the length of the table. The ball that ended up the closest to the far padded rail of the table won the lag.

I won by a fraction of an inch. So far so good. I would break…

Kenny watched as my cue ball struck the rack at the second ball as Jim had instructed. Lo and behold, as if directed by unseen forces, the eight ball glided smoothly across the table without interference and into the side pocket. Wow!

Kenny slapped a five dollar bill down on the table and nodded. “Let’s rack ‘em and play again.” So we did.

Generally it’s accepted that the winner shoots first in the following game. Kenny stood back and vigorously rubbed blue chalk on the tip of his cue stick. 

Once again, as if directed by unseen forces, the eight ball exited the rack and found its way into the side pocket. Kenny placed another five dollar bill on the table and without saying a word racked the balls once again.

While I was elated to have won two games with two shots, I was wondering what mysterious forces were at play here. What was I supposed to be learning? I had never pocketed the eight ball on the break two games in a row.

Kenny and I both exchanged glances. He shook his head with a wry smile etched across his face. I took a deep breath and broke again. Perhaps this third game would go Kenny’s way. I was prepared for that possibility as I drew back my cue stick.

When the cue ball struck the rack this third time, the eight ball was kicked around by a couple of other balls and sent towards the far end of the table. No striped balls went in, and no solid colored balls did either. Apparently, my luck had run out. Kenny took a step towards the table.

At that moment, I noticed a wayward striped ball that had bounced off a side rail. It was heading for the eight ball that had stopped near one of the end pockets. As luck would have it-or was it divine providence?-the striped ball nudged the eight ball just enough to send it towards the pocket where it hung on the edge. It then ceremoniously fell into the end pocket. A silence followed.

For the third straight time I had won the game without Kenny ever getting an opportunity to shoot.

Kenny slapped another five dollar bill on the table, and with a goodbye wave, abruptly left the building. I’m sure he never told anyone about our meeting that afternoon. And I only related the story to my best friend some months later.

I often remember how the Universe taught me about humility indirectly through this encounter. Kenny and I never spoke about it, and shortly after that, my brother and his partner sold the amusement company and my pool playing days were over. I remember that time in my life with fond memories. I’m sure Kenny would agree that pool builds character and can be a humbling game at times.