How To Train Your Dragon


One time, only a couple years after I started playing pool, I had a dream. In the dream I was playing a league match which was handicapped, and I was barely a D player who was up against a B. When we started play, I became so zeroed in on the object ball that everything else in the room faded away, and the table seemed very bright. No matter how far away the balls were, they looked so close. I had all of these ideas about how to get position for the next ball, and wherever I imagined the cue ball, it arrived. These ideas just magically materialized in my brain as I glided around the table with a relaxed confidence. In the last game I rolled too far for position and hooked myself, so I elevated my cue and massed the next ball in, running out for the win. After the match, which I dominated, my opponent walked up to me with his outstretched hand and said scornfully, “You’re the best D player I’ve ever seen. Do you want to play a little more?”

And then I woke up. Except that I was never really asleep, and this was not a dream. I had hit the nirvana of pool (Dead Stroke. Dead Punch. Unconscious.) for the first time in my pool career. Me and the B player did play another set, and much to his disbelief, I played like an average D. Of course he accused me of sandbagging, but I could tell my obvious lack of skill was confusing him. Needless to say, I lost the set, he complained to the league director and I remained a D because that’s what I truly was.

So what was that dreamlike trance that I stumbled upon and, more importantly, how do I get it back? That, my friends, is the hook. When heroin addicts speak of their first high, and how they spend the rest of their addiction trying to feel like that again, I know what they mean. I am chasing the dragon of Dead Punch.

Over the years I’ve hit various stages of it, from full subconscious operation to extremely focused relaxation, and every time I’ve tried to study the feeling so that I can recreate it. The following is a list of the things that I’ve noticed when the rest of the world falls away, and it’s just me and whitey:

-My body is relaxed when I’m over the ball. It’s resting on the table with little to no tension.

-My breathing is even and deep; a low diaphragm breathing that expands my stomach. My body naturally exhales right before I deliver the final stroke.

-My eyes move easily from the cueball to the object ball during my practice strokes, and then lock onto the smallest spot on the object ball until the shot is complete.

-My whole upper body feels like one unit. My dominant eye, arm and cue are a single mechanism made to follow straight through the point on the object ball.

-My thoughts about the shot are clear and decisive, but when I get down my brain is virtually empty. There is no doubt or hesitation.

-My arm swings straight through the ball, and I let it. My brain has worked out the speed, and I trust myself.

-Nothing exists outside the four walls of the table. I cannot be distracted and there is no place I’d rather be.

-In my head I am rooting for my opponent. I want their best game, and I don’t care if I win or lose.

I’ve often wondered what dead stroke is, and why it has to be so elusive. I’ve come to believe that dead stroke is merely a peek at your potential greatness; a tease that keeps you coming back for more. People often say pool is an addiction and, like drugs, dead punch gives you a dizzying high followed by a momentous crash back to Earth. It leaves you feeling empty and wanting more, and the only way to fill that void is to play until you experience it again. It’s this feeling that urges players to aspire to greatness despite the lack of money or glory left in the sport of pool. That’s why the best advice I can give you is to keep chasing that dragon, my friends.





Answers to the Most Asked Pool Questions


In my previous blog post I answered what might be the number one question that I am asked. If you’ve read that, you know that I’m not one to sugar coat my answers. My mentor took a tough approach with me, and brought me to tears many times, but that is what made me the player I am today. Here are some answers to other questions I frequently hear. If I miss any, please feel free to ask in the comments.

I’m playing like crap, and it sucks. Should I take a break?

For the casual player: Yes, take a break! Pool is your leisure time activity, and it should be spent enjoying yourself. Maybe a fresh perspective after a couple weeks off will bring you back to your regular game.

For the aspiring player: Hell, no. Get into the pool hall and stop whining about everything. The game has ebbs and flows, and you need to learn how to deal with them. Some of the best practice you can get is learning how to fight your way out of bad play. Try to learn what it takes to dig deep, and raise yourself out of a funk.

I play better with a couple drinks in me. Should I do a shot before my matches?

For the casual player: Absolutely! Relax and have fun! League night is only once a week.

For the aspiring player: Absolutely! Not! Unless you are also an aspiring alcoholic, I wouldn’t start relying on drinks to make you play better. It may work in the beginning, but pool is a very delicate balance of clear thought and physical precision. Drinking clouds both of those.

How can I get a sponsor?

For the casual player: You can’t.

For the aspiring player: Sponsorship is only about one thing. ROI. What do you have to offer a potential sponsor? Do you frequently play on live streams or in big tournaments with lots of visibility? Many players think they are owed sponsorship because they play well, but sponsors really want someone who brings visibility to their brand. Connect with companies via email or at trade shows, and tell them what you bring to the table. One more thing to note is that you can start with an endorsement deal. Companies will send you product for your own use, and in return you wear a patch. Real monetary sponsorship is usually only available to the upper echelon of players, and even then you may only get free product that you can sell, and keep the profit. One more thing…your conduct when you wear that patch should be impeccable. No one wants to sponsor an asshole.

Will gambling make me better?

For the casual player: Gamble will probably make you broke-er, but if you enjoy it, do it!

For the aspiring player: Gambling can be good for your game if it’s done the right way. Lopsided matches won’t do much for your game, so set the spots accordingly. Also, if you spend all of your practice time gambling, you may get stuck protecting your money, and not try new things. Like all things in life, it’s about balance.

How many hours a week should I practice?

For the casual player: Practice whenever you feel like playing. If you don’t feel like it, a quick warm up before your league match will do.

For the aspiring player: How many hours do you have free during the week? Can you sneak out on lunch break and hit a few balls? Keep in mind that your pool obsession can have a major impact on family life, so make a schedule that everyone can agree to, and stick to it. I know you want to get better, but it won’t mean much if you get fired from your job and kicked out by your partner. But then again, think about how good you could be!


Why You Probably Won’t Get Better at Pool


One of the most popular questions that I am asked when I’m in a pool hall is, “How can I get better?” My answer is that if you’re asking me this question, then you probably won’t get better. If you think that’s a harsh assertion, let me explain myself.

1. If you’re asking me this question you probably have no idea what your weaknesses are.

If you haven’t assessed your own weaknesses by the time you are asking me this question, there is probably no chance you ever will. The people who constantly improve are the ones who carefully self-assess and work to improve the holes in their games. If you’ve ignored  your weaknesses thus far, then you probably don’t have what it takes to work on something that you absolutely hate until you want to shatter your cue in a million pieces and/or have a nervous breakdown. You’ve probably never felt utterly demoralized and broken down by that one thing that you can’t seem to master, yet you come back day after day and keep grinding. And you’ve also never experienced that moment when it all clicks, and suddenly you have a glimmer of hope, which only makes you double the effort.

2. You want to skip the struggle.

You are asking this question because you want the magic bullet. You want me to say something so profound that your game goes up once my words meet your medial temporal lobe. I can’t tell you how many people I see in the pool hall with gadgets and gimmicks all designed to create a quick fix that will make you instantly better. I see low level players adding an extension to their cue “because Earl does” or buying  different cues in hopes of instantly morphing into whatever champion is using it. These champions didn’t get that way by a gimmick, a gadget or a cue. They got that way because they obsessively spent every moment in the pool room working on the things that they find most unpleasant until they master them.The best players literally shed blood, sweat and tears until they become that way.

3. Your ego is too big

Chances are you’ve asked other players this very question, but upon realizing that your game didn’t magically improve, you came in search of answers from me. Maybe when the other players said your break was too wild, or your position was too weak it sounded like too much work to fix. Or maybe you think those things are already great, and that it must be something else. I can’t tell you how many times someone has asked my opinion about something, and then told me they’d rather do it their way. If your mind isn’t open to new ideas, then your ego will forever hold you in lower echelon of pool.

I’m sorry if I sound callous, but this is the reality of improving your game. I’m not talking about the kind of improvement that happens by default if you keep hitting balls. I’m talking about improving beyond your natural plateau. Improvement that people notice and talk about. The kind that makes people ask you what you’re doing. For that kind of improvement, there are no quick fixes. There is no product you can buy. It’s just you facing your weaknesses. Until you work your ass off to make them strengths. And then your old strengths become your new weaknesses. So you rinse and repeat until that shit is squeaky clean.


Another Love Letter to Pool


Dear Pool.

I know I said I would love you forever, and a part of me always will, but I’m starting to think we’d be better off as friends. Our relationship is so awful right now that no matter how much I give you always want more, and I’m tired. I still want you in my life, but I don’t think it’s healthy for me to be with you every single day.

I know this seems out of the blue, but you see, I’ve met someone. His name is Work, and he knows how to treat me right. Things aren’t always easy, but he makes me feel worthwhile, and the more I give to him the more I get back. He takes me to nice restaurants and buys me beautiful clothes, and makes me feel appreciated. I finally understand what a healthy relationship is.

It may sound cliche, but I do still love you, I’m just not in love with you. Maybe this time apart will make my heart grow fonder, but now that I’ve met Work I’m not sure I could live without him. Work isn’t possessive or jealous and it’s ok for me to spend time elsewhere. I really hope that we can remain friends because I would still enjoy taking trips together and spending some quality time with you. I think we should start over again. Try to rebuild some sort of relationship where we enjoy each other. Maybe we can spend the afternoon together a few times a week. Lunch will be on me.



When in doubt, blame it on the crazies!


Try as I might to never comment on political issues, as the mother of a first grader, I can’t remain silent. I am sickened by what happened in Connecticut last week, and angry to hear anti gun control people crowing about guns not killing people, and protecting constitutional rights, and what we really need to look at are the crazies!

Yes, many of these shooters are mentally ill. Yes, the signs are usually there before these things happen. Yes, the system is failing these people and their families who, in most cases, were begging for help. And yes, something needs to be done in regard to this issue, but let’s not use this as a parlor trick to divert attention from one pertinent fact. What the overwhelming majority of these killings also have in common is easy access to legally purchased semi automatic assault weapons.

I would never own a gun because statistics show that gun owners and their families are more likely to be a victim of their own gun, than to ever use it against an intruder, but I am not against other people owning one. A gun, to me, is something that needs to be carefully aimed, fires once, needs to be cocked to be fired again, and needs to be reloaded after 6 or 8 rounds. A weapon that shoots 30 rounds in 31 seconds only has one purpose. Mass casualty. There is no reason for civilians to own guns like these, and I’m pretty sure our forefathers would have written things differently if AR 15’s existed.

Unfortunately, mass shootings will be a part of life unless all citizens are required to give up assault weapons, but sadly, this is a sacrifice that people who want these weapons are willing to make. I can only hope that congress decides to make the connection, and put the assault weapons ban back in place. It will still take years for this trend to slow down because American households are apparently saturated with semi automatic weapons, but we need to start somewhere. My guess is that if the original ban never ended, twenty first graders in Connecticut would be sitting on Santa’s lap, or helping mom bake holiday cookies instead of having their bodies prepared for burial, but what do I know? I’m just a pool player.

An Open Letter To Pool


Dear Pool,

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, and we need to talk. I’m starting to think that our relationship is one sided and unhealthy. Don’t get me wrong…the good times are fantastic. In those times you build me up and make me feel invincible, and nothing has ever made me feel that way before. I truly appreciate those moments and I will cherish them forever, but what we really need to talk about are the other times.

You know what I’m talking about. I love you with all my heart and your indifference and downright cruelty toward me are an unnecessary betrayal. You keep me away from my friends and family for days at a time. You take my money and rarely pay me back. At times you humiliate me in public. You relentlessly point out every one of my flaws to show me just how insignificant I am in your world. How could you be so horrible to me when I give you so much of myself? I’m constantly working on this relationship, but nothing is ever perfect enough for you. I’ve been thinking about leaving you for good.

But who am I kidding? I am still hopelessly in love with you. I am under your spell and I don’t have the strength to leave you. I am a broken person, and sadly, I will continue to take all the abuse you have to dish out. All I am asking is that you ease up on me before you completely crush my spirit. I don’t know how much more I can take, but I can’t leave because in my heart I know there is so much more in store for us. I can feel it! As crazy as it sounds I want to be your number 1. I want to be everything you expect of me and more. So it is with this letter that I am professing my undying love for you. I’m too invested in you to throw it all away for something that will never make me as happy as you can when things are good. Please take it easy on me. We could be great.

All my heart,




Reasons not to practice:

My back hurts
I’m tired
I need to do laundry
I’m hungry
I want to watch my son’s karate class
I need to clean my apartment
I already practiced 16 hours this weekend

Reasons to practice:

I want to show my son that anything is possible

Back to work.

Who Shot ‘Ya?


Part of being a professional player is maintaining professionalism when the chips are down. Not displaying anger at the table, being gracious when losing, and interacting pleasantly with fans after a tough loss are a few of the things that I feel I have mastered over the years. In short, part of my responsibility in being a pro player is acting like one, but now that I’m competing with the men more, I’m finding that sometimes I need to haul out my inner thug.

Now don’t get me wrong…I’m an absolute lady as long as my opponent is respectful, but when that line is crossed my short tempered Italian roots start to show, and I can’t be held responsible for the foul mouthed insults that roll off my razor sharp tongue.

This past weekend I played in a men’s open/pro event, and ended up with a second place finish. All in all my opponents were respectful and some were even complimentary, and although I appreciate their professionalism, those aren’t the ones I want to talk about. I really want to talk about my first opponent. A pool cue toting gorilla with a spray tan and “blue” eyes, who, appropriately enough, works for the department of sanitation, and could easily be cast in a new reality show called The Real Garbage Men of the Jersey Shore. To protect his identity I will call him Stanky Fernandez.

Stanky and I have some history that he may or may not remember, and for many years I looked right through him like the greasy, fingerprinted plexiglass in the Chinese takeout. That incident occurred back when they still had a womens pro event in Las Vegas. I was out in the arena playing my heart out, and after coming back from a big deficit, I found myself shooting a tough backwards cut on the 7 to close the match. I’m locked on the shot when a loud voice echoes across the arena “There’s no way she’s making this shot!”. I get up, and look into the stands. Stanky. Now keep in mind, before this point I had never spoken a word to him. We were just fellow New Yorkers who occasionally ended up in the same pool room. I felt fury rise up inside me as those sitting to his right and left admonished him for his loud outburst. I refocused. Now that the whole arena knew what he thought, I was determined to prove him wrong. I cut the ball in, ran out and won the set, but from that moment on, Stanky ceased to exist in the world of Jenn Barretta.

It would have been nice to keep it that way, but once I started competing in open events, our paths were destined to cross, and I would not only be forced to interact with him, but to (shudder) make physical contact. Stanky and I played each other in the last open event, when he found himself on the sitting end of the handshake. He promptly ran crying to anyone who would listen that he lost because he’s a rhythm player and I play so slow that he falls into my rhythm and blah, blah, wahhh! Whatever. In my estimation, he lost because his cueball is whack, and despite his big gorilla break, the balls don’t always land right outside the holes, but who am I to judge?

Fast forward to last Sunday. I walked into the venue and began to warm up. One table over I noticed that Stanky had arrived, and was also warming up. I watched the draw and saw that I got a first round bye, but noticed that Stanky had to play a good local player, and if he won, we would be squaring off again. I watched some of their match, and when his opponent was up 7-3 in a race to 8, Stanky attempted a thin cut safe, but missed the whole ball. His opponent, who is a portrait of good sportsmanship, asked, “ball in hand?”, Stanky, not surprisingly, replied, “I hit it.” As his antics are intended to do, his opponent promptly fell to pieces and lost 8-7. Believe it or not, I was happy with Stanky’s victory because, even though I would be forced to (shudder) touch him, I felt Stanky was a much better draw for me, and would have gotten his garbage collecting ass handed to him in the first round, if he didn’t cheat.

So here comes the rematch. We flip the coin, and I win the toss. Thankfully, it’s rack your own, which I’m sure the tournament director put in place just for him. I rack the balls, break and push out. Stanky looks at it for 5 minutes, making a big show of chalking his cue and taking extra sips of water before he gives it back. I play safe. Stanky looks at it for another 7 minutes. Ok, I get it. But what he doesn’t get, is that I play on the women’s tour. We’re on the shot clock in almost every match. I am 100% comfortable with it. In fact, I hope we get the shot clock because I doubt he’ll feel the same way. Stanky may run the balls quickly, but he’s going to need some serious time to make his sparse brain cells smoke when I put him in uncomfortable positions.

The match continues at a snails pace, when I break, make two balls and hang the ten in the corner. The cueball lands a foot away from the ten, and the one is in front of that. I look into the gorilla’s beady, blue contact clad eyes, point to the ten ball, and say “I’m going to call the ten”. I draw the cueball off the one, and pocket the ten. I go to rack the balls when he gets out of his chair. “You didn’t call that.” . (SNAP!) I can feel the breach in my temporal lobe, which normally curbs my animalistic impulses. “Don’t start with me, Stanky! Sit down and shut the fuck up, because I’m going to rack right now,” I yell, “this is the only way you could beat me. You have to cheat!”. (oh, god, did i really just say that?) He proceeds to call me a fucking bitch (Why yes, I am, thank you), and runs crying to the tournament director, who, being used to his nonsense, basically told him to go away. I rack the balls, and continue playing.

At 4-3 me, Stanky runs to the tournament director again, and asks for a shot clock. Is he really that terrified of losing to me? The tournament director was watching his earlier antics and, once again, Stanky was forced to do the walk of shame back to his chair. The score was soon 7-5. Now that his final bid for nonsense was rejected, he decided to play some pool. He used his big gorilla break, and broke and ran 2 racks. Good for him. You can win, but you’re going to have to play, son. He breaks the final rack, gets a shot at the one but, as what usually happen with people that have a weak cue ball, he gets in trouble on the 3, makes it, and sends his rock right at the hole. I get ball in hand and shoot a 4-10 combo for the win.

I walk hesitantly over to Stanky and debate whether I should shake his hand. He extends his first and I let my fingertips barely graze his as the gallery awkwardly snickers. I’m glad I got the W, but, just to make sure I didn’t get anything else, I ran for the hand sanitizer. The rest of my story can be read on NYCgrind.

Thug life, forever.

ps…while the above incidents are accurate and true, they are to be considered for entertainment purposes only, are not meant to be a character assassination, and do not reflect any ill will toward my opponent. Yeah, right.

pps…I’m not proud of my behavior but…oh, that’s such a lie. Never mind.

2011 World Mixed Doubles

It’s only been 2 months since I went to Hangzhou, China to compete in the Dragon Promotions 2011 World Mixed Doubles. I’m finally getting around to writing about it for one reason only. Jury Duty. More specifically, Grand Jury Duty. 30 days of sitting in a courtroom deciding whether to indict citizens of New York. I know it sounds like a long time, but it’s only 3 hours a day, and for a once aspiring prosecuter (me!), the whole process is fascinating. Anyway, as you can imagine, there is quite a bit of down time, and that extra time has allowed me to read, write and do the other quiet things that can be achieved on an iPad when you’re not in a noisy pool hall or sitting at home with a 5 year old that demands the iPad to play a game of Cut The Rope.

So anyway, back to China. When I got the invite to the tournament I didn’t know who my partner would be. Good chemistry goes a long way in a doubles tournament, so when I found out my doubles partner was Hunter Lombardo, I was thrilled. Hunter and I have know each other from around the pool scene for many years, and while we never played pool together, every time we are in the same room we end up laughing until our sides hurt. I like people who are open, impulsive and can go with the flow, so he was the perfect partner for me. Imagine my surprise when we discovered that we both travel with the same exact hair dryer. A match made in heaven.


Considering we never played together, we played pretty well. Good doubles partners never point fingers, and help their partners get out of messes. We did that well, and when we lost, it was as a team. We ended up losing our first match to a team from Taipei. We played well, but so did they, and we ended up losing. Our next match was televised. The TV arena was on the ground floor of a mall in Taipei, and the production was extremely well done. I’m always impressed at how Dragon Promotions does live events so seamlessly. Recently I got some photos from that match that ran in a Chinese newspaper..




In the next match we played team Japan, and got off to a great start. We played really well together and got a big lead. Then while we were on the hill, the wheels fell off. We both started making mistakes, and just couldn’t get out. In the end we couldn’t get it done, and we lost. We finished 9-12 out of a field of 16, but I think we had more fun than the other players.


And we definitely had the best hair.