Lion Bared

Lively Pagulayan is notorious for his goofing and hardcore partying. He crooned with Matchroom Sport chairman Barry Hearn after his 2004 World Pool Championship win (above), and jigged in June at the Joss NE Tour finale. (Photos by Lawrence Lustig (top) and Diana Hoppe (bottom))

Come on, 9 ball, one time! One time, baby! Roll, baaaybeee! Get in the hole! Ahahaha! Don't worry, it only hurts for a minute! Ahahaha!"

Even amid the clanging din of slot machines in the Mohegan Sun casino, you can't help but hear "The Lion" roar tonight. In fact, at the moment, you can hear Alex Pagulayan way better than you can see him. You can hear the wild giggling and loud, high-pitched one-liners and piercing yelps that all but make the cocktail glasses shake. Only when you look hard enough, really hard, through the forest of the crowd, can you catch a crazed, whizzing glimpse of him. The blurred image of a 5-foot-3, 110-pound man-child racing madly around a curtained-off pool table at the entrance of the casino, appearing like a little kid who somehow sneaked in the joint, clapping for himself and doubling over with laughter after every shot.

"Ahahaha! Ahahaha!" he erupts after banking in the 7 ball, instantly breaking into this swiveling-pelvic dance, his mouth snapping open into this toothy, gummy, dimpled, incredibly wide smile. A smile that seems to take up three-quarters of his face. A smile so infectious, so goofy looking, that unless you're inoculated against the thing there's no way to resist smiling yourself.

This is what the kid lives for. What he thrives on. His domain. Center stage. The focus of all eyes. Hamming it up. Giving the crowd something to take home and talk about. Chuckle over. Giving them the unforgettable gift of the great Lion roaring it up in what seems like a one-man show.

It's a Wednesday night in mid-August, and the 26-year-old Pagulayan, a player known for his excesses, including his frighteningly over-the-top talent, is the talk of the pool world, a month after he did what everybody for years predicted he would. Except everybody thought he'd do it a whole lot sooner.

All it took was a little growing up. Some momentary self-control. A brief reining in of that 24/7 wildness. Swearing off booze for an entire week, maybe for the first time since puberty, the notorious party animal - and close-but-no-cigar finisher in major events - finally snapped off the big one, the exalted World Pool Championship. The same tournament he let slip away the year before, dogging it bigtime after a typical night of too much fun and drinking and too little sleep and preparation.

He's come here to the outermost reaches of Connecticut, the remote forest-and-lake Indian reservation area of Uncasville, as a last-second entry in the $50,000 winner-takes-all International Challenge of Champions. He didn't last long. In the first match on the first day, he was knocked out by Mika Immonen, 7-6. Actually, he knocked himself out, by drawing too far off an 8 ball in the final game and getting corner-hooked on the 9. To which, in utter frustration, the drama king twisted and swayed and grimaced before unleashing the most plaintive scream: "Oh, no, this can't be happening!" In the end, after taking a painful-looking timeout, he attempted a massé but didn't come close to making a legal hit.

Man hasn't invented a more brutal way to lose.

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