David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Feb. 18, 2003

The Dad killed my pool table

You've probably seen those Saturn commercials in which 20-somethings are driving from Childhood toward Adulthood. In the Childhood town, kids are cheerfully playing on swing sets and slides, without a care in the world and without any consideration of the tasks and responsibilities that lie ahead in Adulthood.

Adulthood is just a short drive away, but rather than continuing on, our pleasant-featured heroes in the spiffy sports coupe perform an ill-advised U-turn and return to the fun and innocence of Childhood.

I made a similar journey recently, but I wasn't leaving Childhood en route to Adulthood, and I was farther down the road. I left Dave's Life with the speedometer pegged at 95, barreling toward Family Life.

Along the way, I saw my pool table, broken and battered on the side of the road. The felt was torn and stained, the pockets had been ripped away, and the legs had been given the Nancy Kerrigan treatment. It was a pitiful, pitiful sight.

My pool table has become the latest casualty in my transition from Dave The Guy to Dave The Dad. It joins my profession, my two-seat pickup truck, a good night's sleep and control over my television, all of which have been sacrificed in the name of Parenthood. It's OK, though. It's worth it. We all make choices in our lives, and everything comes down to a matter of priorities.

But Dave The Guy is going to miss his pool table.

Dave The Dad had a long talk with Dave The Guy a few weeks ago. The Dad convinced The Guy that the family (i.e. the kids) needed more play room. After all, a house that nine years ago seemed more than large enough for two residents feels significantly smaller when the population doubles, and the kids are getting larger by the moment. Kids do that.

Before the children moved in, we had plenty of room for the pool table. It stood in the basement and served with distinction when the urge struck. It was a great way to relieve stress, and it was always a lot of fun when people visited. There's a lot to be said for a game that doesn't require a hard drive. Everyone can play pool. Not everyone is good, but everyone knows the basics - hit the white ball into another ball and hope that the other ball falls into a pocket. That's it.

Pool is a great game for all ages. It's sounds cliché, but it's true. A 10-year-old can enjoy a game with a 60-year-old. How many other games can you say that about? Typically, a 10-year-old would be in his room playing Unreal Tournament or something, and the 60-year-old would be huddled around a table with other 60-year-olds playing bridge. Corny as it sounds, pool brings the generations together.

There's also something quite manly about a pool table. Most men appreciate
good pool players. We hold them in high regard. Even if a man is a complete zero in every other aspect of his life, he'll always command some measure of respect if he can make a six-ball run. It's stupid and childish, sure, but what can I say? We're men.

As I sing the praises of my former pool table, I miss it even more. It's been gone for only a few days, and the house already feels, well, lacking.

The pool table was the first expensive splurge my wife and I treated ourselves to after we were married. We had always said that when we moved into a house we'd buy a pool table. We did, and now it's gone.

Dave The Dad has won out over Dave The Guy. He was right, of course. We needed the room more than I needed to work on my two-bank nine-ball draw.

Being a parent is all about doing what's best for the kids and making sacrifices. I've sacrificed a pool table in the name of family harmony. It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.