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Breaking News #128
Arizona Pool Scene www.azpoolscene.com
I first met Curtis Ashworth, or Gene Krzak, as most of us knew him, in 1996 when he first moved to
Phoenix and started coming to Casino Billiards, where I spent most of my time. He obviously loved
the game of pool because, not only would he come in and knock balls around in the day time, he’d
sometimes stay all night and watch the weekly tournaments as well, and one of the weekly
tournaments didn’t even start until like 2:00AM on Friday night (Saturday morning). I wish I could
remember the exact occasion that I met Curtis, as it would make for better story-telling, but I’d be
lying if I said I did. I guess one of the first memories I have of talking to Curtis was while he was
watching a match I was playing in one of the weekly Casino tournaments. To quickly tell the story, I
had to win some number of games and, being a handicapped tournament, my opponent only needed
to win 2 games. I ran a handful of racks in the match but, while on the hill, I jawed a 9-ball, my
opponent made it, then broke the 9-ball in. I turned to Curtis and said, “that’s why I hate these
#^@$% handicapped tournaments”. I only tell that story because, evidently, Curtis thought it was
pretty funny. He reminded me of that story several times throughout the years that I knew him. In
fact, he brought it up again shortly before he moved from Phoenix last year.
What I really remember most about Curtis in those early meetings, and this would go on to be, in my
mind, a defining characteristic of his, was that he just had a knack for making people feel good
about themselves. Whether it was something as trivial as my pool game, or some important life
experience, Curtis was always there with words of encouragement. Now, as I say that, I’d like to
point out that Curtis wasn’t just supportive of me. He was one of those special people who saw the
good in everyone, even if there wasn’t much good there to see. He was supportive of everyone.
He loved the game of pool and, if someone was a pool player, he had a soft spot for them. He also
wasn’t a complete push-over either. Just because he did see the good in everyone, he wasn’t the
kind of person to completely ignore the rest. Another one of Curtis’ defining qualities was that he
was one of the most “no non-sense” people I’ve ever met. He called it like he saw it. He wasn’t the
type to make things up and, if he said something to me, I took it as the gospel truth.
While there are other people that I can give credit to, one in particular (another Casino Billiards
regular named Jeff Bralley), Curtis played a part in me having a career outside of pool. I had started
to get interested in computers and thought I might want to learn more about the IT Industry. I
mentioned this to Curtis one day and, knowing that I didn’t own a computer of my own, he promptly
went out of his way to look a person up that he had worked with in the past who was now building
PC’s on the side. Curtis went and picked a PC up from the guy and delivered it to my doorstep. By
this time, Curtis and I were already good friends but, knowing him, I get the feeling that he would
have done that for anyone.
Over the years, Curtis and I had conversations about many topics. Of course, a lot of our
conversations were about pool, but we talked about plenty of other subjects as well. One of the
subjects that we talked about, on more than one occasion, was death. He had already had some
health problems in the past, and he’d often say that he couldn’t believe he made it as far as he did.
He smoked, he ate the food he wanted to eat, and he was content with whatever came his way. He
would say that, if his time were to come, he felt like he lived a good life. Along those lines, before
leaving to Texas, he told another one of his friends here in Phoenix that, if he goes, not to feel
sorry for him because he lived a good, hard life. I’m very happy for him that he got to spend his last
several months with his children, some of whom he had been estranged from for a number of
years. The last time I spoke to Curtis on the phone, he sounded the happiest that I had heard him
sound in quite a while. He was living with his son and, in Curtis’ words, “they had a great time
together every day”. He said they were more like best friends than father and son. While I would
never say that any time was a perfect time for him to go, I believe that he passed happy, with no
regrets. Curtis had more stories and great one-liners than anyone I have ever met. I have to admit
that I’ve stolen a few of his one-liners and made them my own. In one of my last face-to-face
conversations with Curtis, the topic of death came up again. There was a short pause in the
conversation after which Curtis broke the ice by saying, “I’ll tell you what I am gonna do when my
time comes. I’m going to find ole St. Peter and see what that old man knows about one-pocket”
(followed by his signature smoker’s-cough laugh).
Curtis passed away on the evening of May 9th. It’s been over 2 weeks now and, somehow, it still
doesn’t seem quite real. I feel like I could pick up the phone, call him, and he’d answer with the
usual, “hey, Bub!” I talked to Curtis’ son, Brian, on the phone on May 10th. I introduced myself as
“Jim”, and he immediately knew it was “Jimmy”. According to Brian, Curtis had talked about all of us
here in Phoenix every day. Brian knew several of us by name. It seems that many of us here had as
much of a lasting impression on Curtis as he had on us. I will personally miss him more than I’m
probably able to articulate through this letter. Curtis was a great man and I believe that many of us
could be better people ourselves if we were to learn from the compassion that he showed
everyone around him.
Curtis, until we all meet again, I hope you find ole St. Peter for that one-pocket game and, when I do
get there, I hope you have him stuck like a pig.
Your friend,
Jimmy “Mendoza” Adame
Phoenix and started coming to Casino Billiards, where I spent most of my time. He obviously loved
the game of pool because, not only would he come in and knock balls around in the day time, he’d
sometimes stay all night and watch the weekly tournaments as well, and one of the weekly
tournaments didn’t even start until like 2:00AM on Friday night (Saturday morning). I wish I could
remember the exact occasion that I met Curtis, as it would make for better story-telling, but I’d be
lying if I said I did. I guess one of the first memories I have of talking to Curtis was while he was
watching a match I was playing in one of the weekly Casino tournaments. To quickly tell the story, I
had to win some number of games and, being a handicapped tournament, my opponent only needed
to win 2 games. I ran a handful of racks in the match but, while on the hill, I jawed a 9-ball, my
opponent made it, then broke the 9-ball in. I turned to Curtis and said, “that’s why I hate these
#^@$% handicapped tournaments”. I only tell that story because, evidently, Curtis thought it was
pretty funny. He reminded me of that story several times throughout the years that I knew him. In
fact, he brought it up again shortly before he moved from Phoenix last year.
What I really remember most about Curtis in those early meetings, and this would go on to be, in my
mind, a defining characteristic of his, was that he just had a knack for making people feel good
about themselves. Whether it was something as trivial as my pool game, or some important life
experience, Curtis was always there with words of encouragement. Now, as I say that, I’d like to
point out that Curtis wasn’t just supportive of me. He was one of those special people who saw the
good in everyone, even if there wasn’t much good there to see. He was supportive of everyone.
He loved the game of pool and, if someone was a pool player, he had a soft spot for them. He also
wasn’t a complete push-over either. Just because he did see the good in everyone, he wasn’t the
kind of person to completely ignore the rest. Another one of Curtis’ defining qualities was that he
was one of the most “no non-sense” people I’ve ever met. He called it like he saw it. He wasn’t the
type to make things up and, if he said something to me, I took it as the gospel truth.
While there are other people that I can give credit to, one in particular (another Casino Billiards
regular named Jeff Bralley), Curtis played a part in me having a career outside of pool. I had started
to get interested in computers and thought I might want to learn more about the IT Industry. I
mentioned this to Curtis one day and, knowing that I didn’t own a computer of my own, he promptly
went out of his way to look a person up that he had worked with in the past who was now building
PC’s on the side. Curtis went and picked a PC up from the guy and delivered it to my doorstep. By
this time, Curtis and I were already good friends but, knowing him, I get the feeling that he would
have done that for anyone.
Over the years, Curtis and I had conversations about many topics. Of course, a lot of our
conversations were about pool, but we talked about plenty of other subjects as well. One of the
subjects that we talked about, on more than one occasion, was death. He had already had some
health problems in the past, and he’d often say that he couldn’t believe he made it as far as he did.
He smoked, he ate the food he wanted to eat, and he was content with whatever came his way. He
would say that, if his time were to come, he felt like he lived a good life. Along those lines, before
leaving to Texas, he told another one of his friends here in Phoenix that, if he goes, not to feel
sorry for him because he lived a good, hard life. I’m very happy for him that he got to spend his last
several months with his children, some of whom he had been estranged from for a number of
years. The last time I spoke to Curtis on the phone, he sounded the happiest that I had heard him
sound in quite a while. He was living with his son and, in Curtis’ words, “they had a great time
together every day”. He said they were more like best friends than father and son. While I would
never say that any time was a perfect time for him to go, I believe that he passed happy, with no
regrets. Curtis had more stories and great one-liners than anyone I have ever met. I have to admit
that I’ve stolen a few of his one-liners and made them my own. In one of my last face-to-face
conversations with Curtis, the topic of death came up again. There was a short pause in the
conversation after which Curtis broke the ice by saying, “I’ll tell you what I am gonna do when my
time comes. I’m going to find ole St. Peter and see what that old man knows about one-pocket”
(followed by his signature smoker’s-cough laugh).
Curtis passed away on the evening of May 9th. It’s been over 2 weeks now and, somehow, it still
doesn’t seem quite real. I feel like I could pick up the phone, call him, and he’d answer with the
usual, “hey, Bub!” I talked to Curtis’ son, Brian, on the phone on May 10th. I introduced myself as
“Jim”, and he immediately knew it was “Jimmy”. According to Brian, Curtis had talked about all of us
here in Phoenix every day. Brian knew several of us by name. It seems that many of us here had as
much of a lasting impression on Curtis as he had on us. I will personally miss him more than I’m
probably able to articulate through this letter. Curtis was a great man and I believe that many of us
could be better people ourselves if we were to learn from the compassion that he showed
everyone around him.
Curtis, until we all meet again, I hope you find ole St. Peter for that one-pocket game and, when I do
get there, I hope you have him stuck like a pig.
Your friend,
Jimmy “Mendoza” Adame
Farewell, Bub
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