Always the bridesmaid, never the groom. Or is it always the usher, never the pusher? Always the shooter, never the shot?

It’s closer to the last one.

This summer’s pool league was a successful one for me and my team. We teetered around first or second place all season, just eking our way into first place just before I went on vacation. My team, for which I’m the captain, managed not only to retain first place, but got us all the way into the finals for the championship match.

Enter Steve Melee, their illustrious captain.

On championship night, I managed to stand up to the pressure, mastering the table and my opponents with a whopping 2 wins out of 8 games. We lost by 4 games. But I can only take half the blame. I couldn’t have lost if my opponent didn’t win. Right?

Ok. I know, I know. So, then there’s the party. A bunch of guys, pizza, free beer… and a tournament. While I managed to play my way to the final two, I also managed to put away several (12 or so) barley based beverages. It was best 2 out of three. My opponent was none other than Jon M. A teetotaler and a very fine pool shot who was a little pissed off at a prior opponent who tried to win by not divulging the fact that he had fouled on a shot. The odds, needless to say, would be stacked against me at the best of times. My money was on Jon. Even though I took the first game, Jon wiped the table with me the next two. Looking back, I can see now that I shouldn’t have drank the extra two beers between the start of the first game and the start of the third game.

Oh well. It’s a fun league. I’m playing for fun. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.