The Price Of Mutiny

A new team, a new name: Different Strokes. I suggested TMI, but Alex and I decided that might be too obvious. Our old captain was still in the league(though we wouldn't find out he'd switched to Wednesday nights too until later), why risk even more awkwardness?

Looking at the league standings, it's strange not to see our old team name. When matches are called, I have to remind myself what our new team name is. The price of mutiny.

The actual playing on Wednesday nights instead of Tuesdays hasn't taking much adjusting to - the two aren't that different, in the context of the work-week. Same Amsterdam crowd, just different faces. The cocktail waitress is now the bartender; the bartender now circles the hall with her little tray. Which is fine with me, because I get along better with the Wednesday bartender. Chris still announces the matches in the same place, with the same jokes(that are still funny).

The only new thing(mostly) are the opponents. The first week we played some familiar faces, but scanning the team rosters, I knew they were the exception. Tonight, I faced off against Cho, an 8 I'd never played before. Alex and Jen were playing even, while Mike was spotted a ball.

Cho told me he'd taken a season off, but was no stranger to league play. That was obvious when the houseman, Steve, knew him on sight. He was pleasant without being too talkative - the perfect opponent. Small talk, game talk, and nothing else.

Now, as I've explained before, the league uses a handicap system to keep games competitive between players of different levels. I'm a 7, and Cho was an 8, so I had a one ball advantage in eight-ball; I could take the last ball in my group off the table without having to shoot it. This is a big advantage.

Or at least it would have been if in the midst of running the table I hadn't forgotten about the handicap. Confidently lining up a shot on my last ball, I thought about the easy position I would have on the eight, and how great it was running out the first game. Then Cho rose slightly from his seat.

"...um, sorry, but you have to take that ball off."

I sat up, looked at Cho, and laughed.

"Aw...fuck."

Sighing, I dropped my last ball(the two) into the corner pocket, heard it crack into the ball return, and gazed at my now shitty position: instead of shooting the two and following for an easy eight ball, I had a table-length bank.

"Yeah sorry about that, if you shot it would be a foul, and who wants to win that way?"

I liked this guy; he could have taken the foul but chose to let me save face and have a chance at winning. I missed the bank, though, and he won the game.

Chuckling to myself, I took a swig of water and sat down. This could be the start a long night, I thought.

---

It wasn't, though. Cho was either ranked too high or was having an off night. I won eight-ball 3-2, and nine-ball 4-1.

Talking with Mike about our matches back at the bar(He'd won 5-2 and had his handicap raised by Chris, which wasn't surprising because Mike was winning over 70% of his games), I was surprised when he closed out his tab without ordering a post-match Stella, then I remembered he was going to India for three weeks. I told him I'd hook him up with my friend Ian, who was in Mumbai, knowing Mike would come back with some epic tales. I tried to talk him into staying for one drink; I wanted him to meet Andi. Andi...a girl I'd been on a couple dates with. Beautiful, smart, sweet, witty - and coming by for some drinks. I'd met Mike's new girlfriend, Beth, so it only felt appropriate. He had to trip-prep, though, but he'd meet Andi eventually. I had a good feeling about her.

After Mike left, I recapped the night with Alex, Jen and her boyfriend. Alex had lost 3-7, Jen 6-7 in a tiebreaker. Still, overall our team was 21-19 on the night, and still in third place.

"My opponent took so long to shoot," Alex said. "So I kept ordering beers, and lost focus."

"Maybe that was his strategy, when he realized he couldn't out shoot you," I replied.

Alex laughed. "Yeah maybe, because he couldn't."

Jen was quiet, because Jen is always quiet. Chris jokes that he hasn't heard her say a full sentence yet. That's probably true. Her boyfriend was equally quiet. Now, Jen's boyfriend has a name. It's Casey. I had forgotten that, though, when Andi arrived. We kissed hello and I made the introductions:

"Andi, this is my friend Alex, this is Jen, and this is Jen's boyfriend....," I trailed off, hand extended in Casey's general direction.

"Casey," he finally said.

Whoops. Andi broke the uncomfortable silence:

"I have to tell you about my day, something happened."

"Uh-oh, it this a good something or a bad something?"

"Good," Andi said smiling, a rich, deep, beautiful smile...but ANYWAY. "I had just been to Starbucks and I was standing on the corner. Suddenly, I felt a tap on the shoulder and a voice says 'Excuse me, where'd you get the Starbucks?', I turn around and it's Al Roker!"

"Al Roker? Wow!"

"Yeah! So at first I'm exactly like that, 'Wow, Al Roker!', then I just told him where the Starbucks was."

I smiled. She smiled. This is the start of something good, I thought.

Jen and *Casey* soon left, leaving Andi, Alex and I to drink and talk. We ended up doing three shots of tequila while joking about Andi and Alex facing off in a drinking contest. I already knew I couldn't keep up with Alex, and Andi out drank her English co-workers when she worked in London. I was a lightweight sitting between Ali and Frazier.

But it wouldn't happen tonight. Andi stopped with the third shot, but I ordered a fourth for me and Alex because we hadn't been out drinking in a while. I changed it up though, and ordered Jack Daniels.

That wasn't the best idea I'd ever had - especially on a work night. My judgement would be even more questionable a week later.