This column reprinted from The American Magazine (Rome)
Nestled between a Cannabis dispensary and a Celtic dive bar in a particularly seedy corner of San Francisco’s culturally diverse Richmond District is “Family Billiards,” which first opened its doors in 1966.
While it is widely known for hosting touring professionals who compete year-round in global tournaments, it also attracts
young Jesuit undergraduates from the University of San Francisco, who are lured here for its louche reputation.
It’s one of the few entertainment venues open seven days a week…including Christmas.
“Family” is also located just downhill and a stone’s throw from the Roman Basilica-modeled St. Ignatius Church. Here, the novices will discover that this authentic parlor is not unlike the one made famous in The Hustler, starring film legend Paul Newman.
“It’s quiet…like a church,” whispers Fast Eddy when he first arrives at one storied institution.
He’s speaking of course, of the fabled “Ames Pool Hall” — home to black sheep and dark figures seeking a respite from the wholesome traditions of the Holiday Season in New York City.
All of “Family’s” 18 tables are regulation Brunswick Gold Crown models, regularly maintained to ensure first-rate playing conditions. Management here recovers the tables with tournament-grade Simonis 860 tournament blue cloth, and provides players with Belgian, Super Aramith Balls.
As for the overall decor, however, let us just say that it is spare in the extreme. No chesterfield couches or overstuffed club chairs. The carpet could use an upgrade, and the lighting is uninspired. For billiard cognoscente, this is our Sanctum Sanctorum.
While a traditional Christmas feast might feature a groaning table of comestibles, only here will you find an All American choice comprising Hot Links, or Polish Dogs, or Three Cheese Melts. Washed down with domestic beers on tap, of course.
As one might expect, there’s a juke box featuring the greatest hits from The 70s and a few TVs hanging near the entrance broadcasting sports. But It’s not a place to hang out.
In fact, loitering is discouraged. You won’t find sentimental reunions here, or coffee klatch rendezvous. It’s all about pool.
“But what about real familia?” One might ask.
If kids are involved, forget about it. One must be 18 years old to enter these hallowed halls and closing time is officially 2 a.m., though some denizens of the night might stagger out a bit later.
The origin of the name comes from the fact that an old Chinese-American family founded the place.
In a city that regularly features Dim Sum houses nonsensically called “Lucky,” and dry cleaners labeled “Good Fortune,” one might as well expect “Family” to be the moniker for a joint that caters to drifters and losers who may well be confirmed outcasts.
Vestiges of the “Mysterious East,” or bygone Orientalism may be found upon close inspection, but one undeniable impression of this dank den is its Trumpian “Manosphere,” – which is an incongruity in a city known for its political correctness.
At the same time, it is important to note that The Family Club is strictly non-partisan, and rarely does one ever hear a political debate take place at any time. Passions run high, though, when discussions of a spiritual nature are murmured across the great expanse of green felt.
“Blessed Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and the hour of our wayward shots.”
Which begs the question: how will the Holy Father unwind after performing his traditional Christmas obligations?
Billiards, while sipping a Fernet Branca cocktail perhaps.
In 1846 Pope Pius IX had a billiards table installed in the Vatican. To this day, it is the only sport apart from tennis that it tolerates. Furthermore, one must remember that Pope Francis is an Argentinian, where the game is widely played in restaurants and bars.
Our calls to The Holy See on the matter were unreturned, alas.