By George Fels
[Reprinted from February 2006]
Not long ago, a colleague from the 14.1 league in which I play thoughtfully gifted me with a home video made in the late Willie Mosconi’s basement. In the video, the immortal champion poses for pictures with a few friends, explains pool’s basics and demonstrates a few shots. To be as fair as possible, a home video is all that this piece was ever intended to be, thus the normal standards of instructional worth and production values do not apply.
Now, apart from his playing greatness, Mosconi was quite well known to be uncommonly stingy with both praise for other players and playing tips in general. When asked about his playing peers, he rarely even completes a sentence: “Gambler.” “Never did anything.” “Never left his home room.” At one point he was quoted as saying, of Queens’ brilliant Gene Nagy, that he had never seen the balls taken off the table better — but years later, he told this publication’s Mike Geffner, “I don’t remember saying anything like that, and I can’t imagine why I would have.” As for instruction, his only known student was actor Paul Newman, prior to the filming of “The Hustler.” For that film, Mosconi served as technical advisor, appeared in a cameo as the stakesholder, and executed most of the tough shots himself. (According to Sports Illustrated, the two worked together five hours a day, six days a week, for three weeks, at the conclusion of which Newman, who had never even held a cue before, managed a long run of 23.) In interviews, pool’s all-time great had nothing insightful whatsoever to say about his game, and even demeaned it occasionally. There are only two pieces of general advice he was ever known to share: 1) Always play with better players; and 2) Practice the circle drill.
He was also thought to hate losing more than he loved winning, although the theory is completely unprovable because he lost so seldom. He answered Newman’s 23 with a 50-plus of his own, as though unwilling to let his prize student have the last word. In exhibition play, he was known to turn down matches with top players (especially money players) and did not take it particularly easy on those opponents he did deign to meet. Still, it was the champion, not the challengers, whom you had come to see, and in that area, he virtually never disappointed anyone. His trick shot presentations afterward were great fun, especially for the speed with which he set up the shots, the first two or three times you saw them. Beyond that, you began to understand that he was doing exactly the same thing every single time; his patter accompanying the shots never changed, not even inflection. He was not much of a speaker, or entertainer, but then he never claimed to be.
In this home video, he does seem a bit more comfortable than usual, most likely because he’s among friends. When he observes, “Not bad for an old man,” of his own play, he achieves colossal empathy in this corner. Of course, his instruction on the basics — stance, grip, bridge and the like — is sound, although he spends very little time on any single one. His audience, for the most part, seems completely uninitiated to pool, even cooing, “Beautiful try,” when he misses. (Indeed, this video is a collector’s item in that Mosconi misses an object ball completely in attempting a thin cut on a rail shot, and then miscues on the next try!) But there does seem to be at least one in the audience who seeks pool education beyond the mere fundamentals. When Mosconi demonstrates a break shot on which he puts follow on the cue ball, things get considerably more interesting when the learner probes.
“You wouldn’t use draw on your break shots?” asks the learner.
“No,” the champion replies. “Why would I?”
“You’d never use draw?”
“No. Never.”
What twaddle. Of course he’d use draw, if only the object ball were a little closer to the side rail than the cue ball. Mike Sigel and Jim Rempe have both instructed that point in their videos. Would it have killed the man to take a few extra seconds to explain, “Well, if the balls were here instead of here, then I’d use draw instead of follow?” Did he fear he’d be drummed out of the corps if he actually taught something of value?
Once again, to be completely fair, I think it’s worth pointing out that Mosconi was born in 1913. Accordingly, his teen years — by which time he was already well on the way to playing greatness — took him smack into the heart of the Great Depression. Throughout his career, Mosconi always solemnly averred, “I have never hustled.” He did not, however, claim that he never played for money. That he did plenty of, especially at the famed Philadelphia room called Allinger’s. Suckers were plentiful during those glum days; where else but the poolroom could they turn for sanctuary from their housewives, nagging them to find work? (A common gag of the time was, “Poolroom burns down; 5,000 men homeless.”) With their very survival at stake, men were depending on those suckers not being wised up. The only good players coming out of the Depression were those who were good going into it. Mosconi kept his mouth shut about the game just like every other good player did, won every time he played, and took the winnings home to keep his family afloat. By the time he was 20, he was under contract to Brunswick for a then-fantastic $650 a month. He would be a legend before he turned 30. And while he made a terrific appearance, usually attired in three-piece suits, in demeanor he was rarely far removed from those lean, mean playing days. All that video really proves, then, is that the man never strayed from his ideals.
