8-Ball, Corner Pocket
By Submitted by PHIL ZABRISKIE (Angeles City)
He was a skinny guy with a thin mustache and no teeth. To most folks, this Caesar Morales looked like a dreamer without a chance, some local hero or small-time hustler who thought he could ride a few bar room triumphs to success on the pro circuit. Maybe he was Mexican, or Filipino—he didn't say and no one asked. This was the 1985 Red's 9-Ball Open in Houston, Texas, $10,500 to the winner, where billiards' best came to win, not make friends. Morales stayed inconspicuous; the guys he came with did not. They were making bets, saying not only would Morales and his $10 cue win his matches, but he would beat the finest shot makers and gamblers in the country by two, three or four racks, in a race to 11. Ludicrous. No rookie no-name could pull that off. Besides, pool was an American game. Sure there were good players from Europe, Japan and Taiwan, and there was a sportswriter, John Grissim, who'd been to the Philippines and claimed there were guys in that country, like a kid named Efren Reyes, who could beat anyone anywhere. But the Americans were still dominant. And yet Morales' buddies were throwing out crazy odds, "giving three or four games on the wire," recalls former pro player and promoter Jay Helfert. "The top American players didn't have to win the match, all they had to do was win seven games. Everybody was jumping on it, betting thousands of dollars. And he was beating player after player 11-3, 11-2, 11-4. I said, 'Who is this guy?'" This guy won the tournament. And he cleaned up in the back room, during the big-money action that starts when the crowds go home. Before the fans left, though, the mystery shark signed a few autographs. Only then did he reveal himself, signing not Caesar

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