One of the people I studied with at university was a very fanatic pool player.
He was a kind guy, with lots of attention for fun anf other people, but when it was time for his pool hours he changed into another person.
His billiard gloves were always the subject of our remarks, but he just enjoyed our attention.
When he had to leave his studentroom we wondered where he would go.
We were not surprised to receive an invite for a party at his new room: above a pool café.
Soon he'd applied for a job and it was no surprise at all he got it.
From then on that pool café was wellknown for it's pool facilities and for the fact that they were never short of billiards supplies.
After we finsihed our studies we lost contact.
When I saw him, about 10 years later I asked him where he lived now. "Quite near your neighbourhood', he said, "in one of those large houses at the other side of the railwaystation. Only in those houses there was enough room for a pooltable."