In 1994, a young man had a dream. Well, he wasn’t really a young man anymore, more like middle age. And it wasn’t really his dream; it was actually a suggestion from his daughter. She suggested he open a pool hall. And as he thought about it, he realized it was a good idea. So a short, curly headed, slightly balding, middle-aged Italian decided to follow his daughter’s suggestion.

However, he didn’t want to open a pseudo upscale hall like several in the city and he certainly didn’t want to open a pool hall like the ones where many of us older guys probably learned to play.

He wanted to open a simpler place; a place where everyone could feel comfortable and could play the game at their level; a place where you could have fun and where everyone, well, almost everyone, knew your name; a place where the bartender could sing Happy Birthday to a patron, badly and off key; a place where practical jokes could be played without anyone getting too upset; a place where Newfies could rant and roar and nobody really paid any attention; a place where a short, unique guy named Pecker could become League President. But, most of all, a place where sportsmanship and fair play came first.