The place was sparsely populated when we walked in. A few people were playing pool on some of the many tables on the ground floor and a couple of tables were occupied. I frequented the Rialto over the years, it was my favorite place to play pool downtown. That day I was with a friend of mine and a few of his friends. We settled at the far end of the bar and ordered some drinks and bar food.
Along with the bar and pool tables, there were many television screens, each one bigger than the last, throughout the place. Each one was on a different channel, all of them playing a different sport. Opposite the bar, almost hidden, was the door that led to the Off-Track Betting room where people bet on horse races from around the country. I’d never been in there. It seemed like an even more desperate place than a pool hall bar. I’d been to a horse track once, years before, with my brother and sister-in-law. I lost a little money and didn’t really enjoy the experience. Movies like The Sting and Let it Ride gave me an unfavorable impression of people who bet on horse races.
I was not seated long when I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
I turned around to face her. She was an attractive woman with long, wavy brown hair. She was wearing a blouse and jeans. She looked to be a bit younger than I was, maybe twenty-five. There were at least six empty seats at the bar between me and the next guy, an older man watching the basketball game while he drank. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to sit in the one right next to me.
“I don’t think so,” I said, not confidently. I turned back to the group I was with. They mostly talked to each other, and I listened. I’ve never been very outgoing, and I come off as shy when meeting people. I think reserved might be a better word to describe myself.
I wasn’t paying too much attention to their conversation when I suddenly heard the young woman again. I didn’t catch what she said, so I turned back around to face her again. I wasn’t sure that she was even talking to me, but she was looking at me.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Do you know what quarter this is?” she asked, referring to the television screen above the bar with the basketball game playing.
I never had any interest in professional team sports, especially watching them. I’ve never followed any of them and I do not watch them ever. I am quite sure that my father’s biggest disappointment with his children is that both his sons couldn't care less about watching or talking sports. Any of them. I played soccer and baseball when I was a kid, but I stopped completely when I reached high school. That is when I discovered something much better than sports. Not girls, but role playing games and video games. My brother and our friends spent countless hours inhabiting different fantastical worlds with orcs, goblins, elves, vampires, elven vampires, magic, aliens and other assorted monsters. We would stay up all night exploring dungeons, fighting villains and hoarding treasure. We would take turns running games, but I was nearly exclusively a player, not a Game Master.
I let her question sink in for a moment, and I looked up at the screen. Someone I would never recognize dribbled the ball past other people I had no interest in while people watched and made noise. I saw no beauty in basketball, or football or soccer. They could never hold my interest.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m not watching it.” Thinking that was the end of the conversation, I turned my back to her again.
“I don’t think Shaw is at his best this year,” she said.
Jesus Christ, I thought. Why are you talking to me? I was certain she’d be able to have a conversation about this inane game with someone else. Couldn’t she see I was not interested? I’ve never understood how people could strike up a conversation with a stranger. Perhaps that’s a function of a bar I’ve never explored. People often start stories with, “I was drinking at this little bar on the coast and this guy was telling me…” I don’t have any of those stories, mainly because I rarely spend more than an hour at a bar and never alone. There must be entire swathes of human existence that I’m not aware of, and bar culture is certainly among them.
“He can do better, don’t you think?” she ventured further.
“I really don’t know,” I said. Then, I decided to end it. “I don’t follow sports at all.”
I turned away from her again and scooted to the edge of the seat with my back squarely to her. I went back to vaguely listening to friends of my friend talk. The conversation was not much better, but at least they weren't engaging me. We played some pool and I noticed the young woman had moved down the bar and found someone else to talk to. She finally took the hint.