A hush fell over the Water Street paddle pool hall as he came through the door. The Milwaukee Kid was looking for a game.

There was one Fundex Paddle Pool table open, way in the back. He took the long way getting there. Wanted everybody to see he was in the building. Wanted to give them time to remember the stories they’d heard about him. Wanted them to imagine the worst, to psyche themselves out. The Kid always said, half of the game is played before you even drop the ball.

He stepped to the red paddle – always red for the Milwaukee Kid – and batted the ball around a little for practice. He was just about to make the three-bumper backspin alley-oop, his trademark shot, when one challenger stepped forward: Slow Jimmy Stinson.

The Kid stopped warming up, looked Slow Jimmy right in the eyes. “I play for a minimum of three hundred a game. More if you want it. Never less. First to ten wins, then it’s a new game. I prefer a four-player game but if we’re the only two men in the house, we’ll use the goal blockers to close off the other goals. I don’t like shooting lopsided, so if I’m playing red, you’re playing blue. And I always play red.

“Whaddya say? Wanna tell all your friends about the night you lost to the Milwaukee Kid?”

Slow Jimmy inhaled. Then exhaled. Then inhaled again. Finally, he spoke. “I…”

“Yeah? You what? Spit it out.”

”...think… I… ”

“C’mon, buddy, while we’re young.” The Kid was getting rattled. Slow Jimmy didn’t seem to notice.

”...would…”

“Oh, come on. You got something to say, say it.”

”...like…”

“LIKE WHAT? FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?”

”...to…”

By the time Slow Jimmy finished accepting the Milwaukee Kid’s challenge, the Kid was on a train halfway to Kansas City. The only player the Milwaukee Kid ever ran away from, Slow Jimmy’s still there, down on Water Street, still playing Fundex Paddle Pool. He’ll tell you all about that night if you take him to dinner. As long as you’re not in a hurry.

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