The billiard world is filled with people who have left indelible marks on the sport and the business, some of them players, some of them businesspeople. And some of them both.

And when we lose someone who’s made a lasting impact there is a profound sense of loss. But there is also a sense of pride in having had the honor of knowing them and witnessing their greatness.

The past month saw the sudden passing of not one but two such billiard titans, one a player turned game-shaper, and the other a generational talent at the table who quietly led the growth of pool in his home country — and internationally.

If you met Terry Bell in the late ’70s or early ’80s, you’d have seen the prototypical tough guy road player. Not a brawler tough guy. A guy whose eyes told you he was all business when it came time to screw his cue together. He had a military background, having served as a Lieutenant in South Korea. At the table, he could keep pace with any player. Author John Grissim once referred to Bell’s game as “rawhide finesse.”

But Bell also had business sense and a desire to grow the game for the benefit of all, particularly his fellow “pros.” When a group of top players organized in the late ’70s to produce a pro tour, the forward-thinking Bell suggested the group would be wise to invest some money into amateur leagues to help develop a fanbase of aspiring players.

“Pool won’t have stars until it has fans,” Bell argued.

Not surprisingly, the idea was both too ambitious and altruistic for the mostly mercenary group.

Thankfully, Bell, taking a 30,000-foot view of his vocation, pushed ahead alongside his new business partner, fellow pro Larry Hubbart. They formed the American Poolplayers Association and, starting with a partnership with St. Louis-based beer giant Anheuser-Busch, slowly built a league system that grew to more than 100,000 players in less than 10 years. The visionary Bell decided to build the APA as a franchise business, selling territory ownership and ensuring the vested interest of what was essentially the league’s sales staff.

Today, the APA has 270,000 members. Over its 45-plus years in existence, it’s safe to say the APA has introduced pool to many million Americans, most of whom have become significant consumers for the industry and lifelong fans of the sport. That, friends, is the type of impact that should earn (and did, with Billiard Congress of America Hall of Fame recognition in 2010) someone the eternal gratitude of the game.

Sadly, Terry Bell passed away June 27. He was 81.

For Jung-Lin Chang, playing pool and helping develop young players was his life. The Kaohsiung, Taiwan, native was a child prodigy, finishing second in the Junior World Championships in 2003, and quickly becoming one of the stars of the mighty pool contingent from Chinese Taipei. He was a perfectionist at the table, with almost textbook form and cue ball control to rival the late American legend, Buddy Hall. He dominated tournaments throughout Asia in the late 2000s and then won both the WPA World Team Championship and the World 8-Ball Championship in 2012, cementing his status as an icon in Taiwan. Over the next decade, Chang continued to add major international titles, like the 2018 International 9-Ball Open and 2020 Diamond Las Vegas open.

But the hulking Taiwanese star was more than just a resume. He was affable, but quiet. He rarely showed emotion at the table. But you could sense his aura, particularly among Asian players, simply by watching him walk into an arena. “Bigger than life” is an overused phrase, but it is accurate in Chang’s case. For many, he was an idol. When he played, other players studied him like a how-to YouTube video.

And while he seemed stoic as he plodded around the table, Chang had a playful side that would come in short, unexpected bursts. In the winner’s bracket final of the 2016 U.S. Open 9-Ball Championship, Chang saw a 10-5 lead against emotion-charged Jayson Shaw disappear. As Shaw forced a deciding game, he cupped his ear with one hand, encouraging the now-boisterous crowd to turn up the volume. Not surprisingly, Chang sat emotionless in his chair.

But after Shaw missed early in the case game, Chang slowly walked to the table, flapping his arms and mockingly wiping his brow. The crowd burst into laughter. And when he pocketed a key ball, he screamed, “Ah!!” Again, the crowd roared with delight.

“We needed some humor to relive the stress,” Chang said later, to everyone’s surprise.

After pocketing a long shot a ball from victory in the 2024 Predator Mixed Doubles finale with teammate Rita Chou, Chang unleashed a comical dance that was as refreshing as it was unexpected. Even the equally stoic Chou broke down laughing.

Chang was an imposing figure at the table, and his lack of English fluency made him slightly mysterious. His impact on his fellow pros was undeniable. But what I’ll miss most are those spontaneous bursts of physical humor. Those are what made the mechanical technician human and endearing.

Chang died suddenly on July 14. (See pg. 30.) Both men, now gone, will surely live on forever in our memory.