[Calvin Demarest demonstrates the Massé in 1912. He went schizo a few years later.]
Oh yeah. I remember my best shot. Outside of Houston. Twenties on the rail in a call the shot game, and I had spots. Two spots were sitting in adjacent corners at the end of the table, and a stripe was next to the side pocket. I was blocked for the far corner, my cueball was on the wrong side of the near pocket and against the rail, and I couldn’t bank the corner shot. What could I do?
I did what any bluffer would do. Call both corners.
With my cue in the air, I jammed a Massé shot. Put so much spin on the cue ball that it hopped the rail in front of the side pocket, rode it and spun back down to the table on the other side of the side pocket and caught the side rail. It sunk Spot 1 in the near corner, then shot down the end rail to sink Spot 2. No scratch.
Of course I had to keep a poker face, so I walked to my next shot as if nothing spectacular had happened. Within seconds everyone grabbed their money and went upstairs. Game over.
THAT was my best shot.
Tacky Raccoons 