GOLF BILLIARDS

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 186, 27 October 1927, Page 7

GOLF BILLIARDS

A POPULAR INDOOR GAME INMAN REMINISCENCES Getting a little away from golf on the links, let me present a few entertaining notes on golf on the billiard table from Melbourne Inman’s notes in an English journal. He says: It was on this table, too, that Kemp introduced me to the game of golf billiards, his favourite pastime. Probably this game is familiar to many readers, but, since it affords excellent practice in positional play of the cue-ball—not to mention potting the red —I may as well describe it as Kemp played it. The game started with the red on the spot between the two middle pockets and the cue-ball in hand. The object was to pot the red ball into each of the six pockets in succession in the smallest total number of strokes. You began by sinking the red in the top left-hand pocket. It was then respotted in the middle of the table, and I had to be played into the top right- | hand pocket; and so on, round the | table. I The real difficulty was that, after the j first shot from the D, the white cuei ball had to be played from wherever it was left, and a miss or an in-off counted a stroke against the player. To go round in 15 was no small achievement. My own best score was 11, but I have seen Kemp, who was a great player at this game, hole out in 13 more than once—tip-top play for any amateur. How Kemp Won £6,000 One morning, some months after he had bought the table, Arthur Kemp called round to see me. “I made more money last night, Mel,” he began, “on that table you advised me to buy than ever you made by a j night’s play.” “How did you manage that?” I asked. “Well,” he replied. “I had two or three very wealthy friends up at my

flat last night. We started playing golf-billiards, and the betting went higher and higher. “I never played a finer game in my life, and, before the night finished, 1 had won £6,000!” I own that beat my own record for any night’s play, though, as, I have already said, I have been engaged in many contests where a great deal of money depended on the result. But, oddly enough. I was all unknow - ingly prepared to engage in the biggest “contest” of my life when the only money involved was 355. I still can’t help smiling at the recollection of this youthful indiscretion. It occurred when I was “associated with the Turf,” but long before I ever dreamed of owning horses. I was about 20 years old, and I was, in fact, a bookmaker’s *clerk. In those days I was trying to turn the off-season in billiards to advantage, and Alf Woolley, the bookmaker, gave me the opportunity to do so. He was shouting the odds one day ' and I was industriously recording the I various bets made, when a quiet young i fellow came up to Alf and had a pound i to win on a horse against which we I were laying ten to one. At least, that was the way I noted I the bet down on Alt’s calling, but after the race, in which this particular horse j happened to finish second, the quiet | young man came up to our stand again, held out his ticket, and asked for 355. Alf Woolley had evidently decided to j leave me to settle the matter. He knew ! something! I looked at the ticket and looked at ! the book, and there was the bet clearly marked; one pound to win. “What are you asking for 35s for?’ I said to the quiet young man. “Only because I had ten bob each ! way on the second. That’s 25s for the • place bet and ten bob stake money 35s all told.” “You had nothing of the kind,” I 'replied with no less heat. "Here’s th entry in the book, and if you ve got any | more to say about it, you’ll get a punch in the nose.” Just for a moment he looked * thoifgh he meant to take me at my word. Then suddenly he laughed very | cheerfully, and as though he were much amused. “I couldn’t risk that,” said he. not for thirty-five bob. Besides we all make mistakes.” And he turned on his heel and was gone. When Alf Wcf ley came back to the stand he said to me: “Mel, do you know who that young fellow was you were talking to?” “No,” said I. “I only know I offered to punch his nose.” ; j “Good lord!” exclaimed Woolley. “Why that was Jabez White, the cham- : pion light-weight boxer of the world:’’