Pastor Snookered!

Pastor Paul Kimball's column continues this week with part 2

Last week, I told you of my first snooker experience on Melita soil. I hadn’t seen a real snooker table for about forty-five years and couldn’t believe how big it was! I also mentioned that this snooker game took place at the Golden Age Centre and that I was competing with two men who are slightly older than I am – one whom I’ve just recently met and the other whom I’ve known for about two and a half years. Two good guys – George and Barry…and yes, those are their real names!

Originally I thought I was going to the Golden Age Centre to pit my skills against George, but we met Barry there, who had just finished his regimen of jogging…or so I thought! I indicated last week that I was pleased to have Barry join us in the game, because I figured the jogging would have worn him out…and he’d be ‘easy pickings’ when it came to snooker. I was wrong on both counts…but more of that in a moment! The opening shot, the break, was taken by George, but no balls disappeared from the table. Next in line was Barry, with the same result, meaning it was my turn. The cue ball (the white ball) was at one end of the table; the only clear shot I had was at the other end. As I peered over the green surface of the table at the shot I had to make, I was thinking – ‘Good grief, that ball looks almost as far away as the drive I had just made from Carnduff to Melita!’ I closed my eyes, hit the cue ball as hard as I could…and the ball I was aiming for went in the pocket! I couldn’t believe it!

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A little later in that same game, Barry had a shot that was way out of his reach. He went over to a rack and grabbed something that looked like a thin telephone pole. It was a cue…the longest cue I think I’ve ever seen and, using a long, long rake, he was able to overcome the distance between himself and his cue ball.

Well, the long and the short of it was this – I didn’t give either of the men a ‘snooker drubbing’. I think I eked out a victory in that first game, but Barry gave George and me a good thumping in the second game.

Barry wasn’t ‘easy pickings’ after all…and for good reason, as I found out after I wrote last week’s column. He hadn’t been jogging when we met him… he’d only been walking – and he had lots of energy left! But one thing I did learn that morning – I know why some people call the place the Friendship Centre. My snooker-playing may have left much to be desired…but the good time with friends didn’t!

Please drop by the Pierson Bible Chapel this Sunday. Our service starts at 9:30 a.m.

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