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One of a Kind

Francisco Bustamante's journey from poverty to pool's pantheon.

Story by Ted Lerner

Bustamante is a national hero in the Philippines. (Photo by Carina Altomonte)

THE DAY after Francisco Bustamante won the World 9-ball Championship in Doha, Qatar, in June, he received a text message on his cell phone from none other than the President of the Philippines, Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III. The president, himself an avid pool player from Bustamante's hometown, had just been sworn in to a six-year term in office. Despite a hectic schedule and many pressing problems besetting the nation of 90 million people, the new president took a few moments to send the newly crowned world champion a message.

"This is Noynoy Aquino here," the text read, "saying congratulations to your success and honor that you have given our country."

"I'm very happy that I received recognition, especially coming from President Noynoy," a clearly overawed Bustamante said afterward. "I am not intending to ever erase that message. It's like a double whammy. Winning the world championship for the first time, then getting a message from the president of the Philippines."

Several weeks later, however, an unsuspecting Bustamante would be hit with a triple whammy. While engaged in a money match in a Manila poolhall, he received a phone call from the United States informing him that he had just been elected to Billiard Congress of America Hall of Fame.

"I was surprised, shocked," Bustamante said of that moment. "I'm so happy. It's not something I asked for. There are too many good players. It's a big honor, especially to be elected in the USA.

"For me, that's a dream. I come from a small town in the Philippines. I never thought I would one day be in the Hall of Fame for pool."

A world title. A text from your president. And now the ultimate honor representing eternal greatness, the BCA Hall of Fame. For the humble and soft-spoken 46-year-old, it's been a rapid succession of good news that's difficult to comprehend.

"I don't know what to say," Bustamante responded, when asked what it all meant to him. "I'm very happy. I'm just lucky."

A man of few words, Bustamante has always chosen to do his talking on the green pitch, and the results from his nearly two-decade professional career speak loud and clear. Since 1991, Bustamante has captured some two dozen tournament titles and a slew of big invitational victories. He's twice been named Billiards Digest Player of the Year, taking the honor in 1998 and then again in 2002. This year, after shouldering the burdensome moniker of the best player to never win a sanctioned world title, Bustamante finally filled that hole in his resume by winning the WPA World 9-Ball Championship.

Over the many years, he has built up a legion of fans, awed by his massive break shot, flowery stroke, humble demeanor and ready smile for everyone who comes his way. He now stands aside the only other Filipino to be elected to the Hall of Fame, his close friend and traveling partner Efren Reyes.

Fans may be tempted to view Bustamante's induction as a chance for him to finally step out of the long and lofty shadow cast by Reyes. The humble Bustamante, however, sees things differently. He enjoys standing in his good friend's powerful glow and is happy to stay there. Bustamante has never expressed anything but awe for Reyes - and continues to do so two decades since striking up their friendship.

"Efren is my friend, my compadre and my idol," Bustamante said. "I understand it when the fans root for him. I'm not surprised. He's the best player in the world. He's a beautiful guy and friendly with everyone."

Nobody would begrudge Bustamante the obvious fact, however, that he has carved out his own niche and his own standing in the pool world. And like Reyes, his near impossible journey from the bottom rungs of third-world poverty to the highest levels of the sport is an integral part of his legend.

Dreaming about anything other than daily sustenance is a fanciful extravagance few can afford in the impoverished barrios of the provincial Philippines. Money is tight and opportunities are slim. If you are lucky to find a good gig, something that generates a few extra pesos, you stick with it. This is why you often hear guys like Bustamante and Reyes say they "got lucky," after an incredible win. Considering how they grew up, every day was pure chance.


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