Windsor pool player on the rise

The entire room concentrated on the cue ball. A couple of enemy balls tightly guarded the pocket. The player stooped over the table with his cue loaded. Having trialled every scenario in his mind, he chose the only angle – brushing his target and traveling in the opposite direction of the pocket. The cue tapped, the balls clicked and the pocket swallowed. “Shot,” said the opponent, coming out of the shadows and smoke. He had just lost to our hero, but that was the only thing to be said. “Shot,” he said again, ending the game with a handshake.

Saad El Mokhallalati, our hero tonight, had advanced to another round in the pool league at Brews and Cues, in Lasalle, Ontario. Having landed in Canada only in April this year, Mokhallalati is already a fixture at Brews and Cues. He gets fist-bumps and cheers from many more than his own team. For the past two weeks he had been playing this venue every night. Earlier in November Mokhallalati won the “9 ball 5-8 series” at Strokers Billiards in London, Ontario. He won seven in a row and beat about 50 contenders to the title.

Mokhallalati is only 27 years old. Prior to landing in Canada, he was an amateur in Lebanon. This is significant in the world of pool, where careers take decades to pick up momentum and – when they do – become unstoppable.

“I started when I was seven years old,” said Mokhallalati. “Maybe I was shorter than the table.”

He picked up his first cue at a restaurant in Lebanon. The game he watched and learned was full of feints and trick shots, riling the crowd for bets. It was more than just what was on the green felt table. The crowd was in play.

“It’s a street game,” said Mokhallalati. He spoke to me in bursts between games. His smile lingered over some memory brought up by my question about his past. “In Lebanon it’s competitive,” he said, still smiling. “But there are no sponsors. There’s no respect for the game.”

There are three other pool tables on the lower floor at Brews and Cues. The overhanging, three-pronged cones of light isolate each table from the surrounding darkness. There was a resounding crack from the table next to us as a player broke a pyramid of balls with the heavy pole. Elsewhere, the midgame music of clicks and thuds continued. “Hey Saad, you are up,” said a voice from the darkness. Mokhallalati sipped his soda and excused himself from the interview.

The league at Brews and Cues was a long-drawn battle and Mokhallalati’s strategy was blitzkrieg. He ended most games within 10 minutes. As a rule, he attempted a winning break – pocketing a ball with the first shot. Then he studied the table for a good five minutes. For the rest of the game the white cue ball followed whatever pattern Mokhallalati had willed during his meditation. In minutes, all the stripes were off the table and all the spots remained. In pool, the losing partner has nothing to do except pray for sweaty hands. When it’s over, there is still the magnanimous handshake to come.

Mokhallalati was back to resume his reminiscences. “I was in Lebanon,” he said. “From two, three years ago there was a bad situation in Lebanon. So that’s why I decided to move to Sweden. “After I moved to Sweden, I have my uncle here in Canada. I came to work here. I landed here in April this year and hopefully will stay here.”

For most of his twenties, Mokhallalati had heard the alarms go off about Lebanon’s economy. By 2019, Lebanon’s borrowings were 150 per cent of its national GDP. According to the World Bank, the nation is experiencing the third worst economic crisis the world has seen since the 19^th century. For young people in Lebanon, who were starting their professional lives and making plans, there was no solution. Moving to a different country meant restarting life and postponing life plans. For Mokhallalati, the decision was made by the Beirut explosion of 2020. He had to get out.

Sweden gave him stability and peace to recollect himself. It was in Sweden that Mokhallalati became self-aware as a pool player. Compared to Lebanon, there was a different ethos at the pool table. Of course, there were hustlers, but there was also art. That is what Mokhallalati saw when a player controlled the events on a table with grace and precision – art.

“It’s a beautiful game,” said Mokhallalati, beaming into his glass of soda. “In Canada there are many pros. Many good players… I’m loving the pool here.”

It is common knowledge that pool, snooker and carom were fathered by billiards. However, the lineage of billiards is moot. Some versions assert that billiards was a table-top adaptation of croquet. The mallets became cues, the hoops became pockets and the garden itself became the green felted table. Snooker, the youngest game of the family, is also the most complex. Popular history credits its creation to Lieutenant Neville Francis Fitzgerald Chamberlain in 1875, while he was stationed in Jabalpur, India.

Two Canadians have achieved special recognition in the world of cue sports. In 1980, Cliff Thorburn won the World Snooker Championship. He came runner-up to the title in 1977 and 1983. In 2001, Thorburn was inducted to Canada’s Sports Hall of Fame. Alex Pagulayan became runner up in the World Pool Championship in 2003, then won the title in 2004.

Mokhallalati has his own hero.

“Effren Reyes,” he said. “The magician. He’s from the Philippines. The greatest player in the world, of all time.”

A nickname is a mark of esteem in the world of pool. Thorburn is “the grinder” and Pagulayan is “the lion.” Reyes is “the magician” or “bata,” a Filipino word that roughly translates to “kid.” Mokhallalati is yet to earn his own nickname. He is still a part-timer and an apprentice at his craft.

During the day he works for Accutax, a tax firm at 321 Tecumseh Rd. East. Until he gets to clock out, he is a book-keeper, doing payrolls and filing taxes for clients. After the league at Brews and Cues ends next April, pool will once again become a weekend activity for Mokhallalati.

“I know some people they make a living only from pool,” he said. “I cannot take that risk. Because if I only want to do pool, I will lose my job.”

Another handshake at the table meant it was Mokhallati’s turn again. He made the winning break and stood back from the table for his meditation. This was the cue for Louie, a fellow Lebanese expatriate and one-man-cheering squad for Mokhallati, to give me his report on his protégé.

“Saad has talent,” said Louie. “He should be playing professional. He’s got talent. But sometimes, talent is not enough.”

A click from Mokhallalati’s table interrupted our conversation. This time there was no homing thud or exclamations of “shot.” Mokhallati’s streak was broken. His opponent chalked his cue and worked the table, pocketing eight in a row. It was the last handshake for the night.

“Pool can be unpredictable,” said Mokhallati, finishing his soda. “It’s fun, but I will not make it my only thing in life.”