It's cool to shoot pool for capital's youth

It's cool to shoot pool for capital's youth

By Monique Natalia

JAKARTA (JP): The five young women, all around the age of 20,
were dressed like they were ready to dance the night away.

But instead of heading off to a cafe or club on a recent
Saturday night, they were at Bengkel Billiard, each of them
holding a cue except for one who watched from one of the high bar
tables at the pool hall off Jl. Sudirman in Central Jakarta.

Why is it suddenly cool to shoot pool?

"The guys who play pool here are cute!" giggled one of them,
Echie, a student at the University of Indonesia (UI).

Although many of the young women at the club acknowledged that
guy-watching is one of the game's major attractions, other
players said they were also drawn to the challenge.

"Playing pool is a way to channel my competitive energy," said
Anan, another UI student who took up billiards last year. "(But)
being competitive doesn't mean I don't have fun while I'm
playing.

"My friends and I still joke around when we play. Especially
when I play with people who are also new players. We're still
learning and it's better to learn through laughs than frowns,
right?"

The bottom line for Bengkel, and that of other pool halls
which have reached out to combine the sport with entertainment,
is fun. And in the process they have done away with the enduring
stereotype of the seedy, smoky pool hall frequented by those you
would rather not meet down a dark alley.

Customers can groove to loud dance music, down a few drinks
(beer is the only alcoholic beverage served on the premises) and
glance at MTV on huge screens, legacies of Bengkel's disco and
concert past, for prices ranging from Rp 25,000 to Rp 40,000.

Once the legendary Arena in Bengkel Night Park, a star-studded
disco with a capacity of up to 8,000, Bengkel Billiard with its
120 tables is the largest pool hall in the country, if not Asia,
said Ishwara Adi, the club's assistant manager.

Adi said the club first started with only 14 tables but
quickly expanded due to demand. At weekends the waiting lists are
long, sometimes up to 200 people.

Although business is nothing like the take from concerts,
which had occasionally amounted to some Rp 65 million, Adi said
transforming the place into a pool hall was the right move
because it provided a steady daily income.

Ultimately, he said they want pool to be a sport for all.

"People used to see billiards as something negative. Wives
forbade their husbands from playing pool because all they saw
were the score girls, the gambling and the alcohol," Adi said.

"The same thing goes for young women, who tended to see
billiards as an all-boy sport and didn't consider it something
cool. We want to change all that ..."

Help is at hand for first-timers. A staff of four, consisting
of one professional billiards player and three assistants, patrol
the hall every day, giving pointers on correct technique.

"We don't want people to think that billiards is a difficult
game to play," Adi said. "Once they know how to play they'll want
to come again and hopefully the next time they come they will
bring their friends, and in turn their friends will bring more
friends."

Competition

It was inevitable that pool halls-cum-entertainment centers
have opened in Bengkel's wake.

Among them is Gardu, which is located in Kompleks Taman Ria
Senayan, and JC, short for Jakarta Club, at Jl. Jend. Gatot
Subroto. Like Bengkel, Gardu tries to merge the concept of sports
and entertainment but goes a step further in providing a cyber
corner, a sports bar, a cafe and live performances.

The Indonesian Billiards Association (PB POBSI) also opened a
public training center in October last year, but eschews the
entertainment label.

"Our main focus is to provide Indonesian athletes with a place
where they can train and prepare themselves for upcoming games.
But due to funding problems, we decided to open up this place for
public use," said Basuki Santoso, the association's deputy head
of public relations and information.

Although he added that billiards "should just be pure sport
because when it's mixed with entertainment people tend to lose
their focus and concentration ..." the POBSI facility is already
attracting a host of enthusiastic amateurs such as singers Jihan
Fahira and Denada.

One of those won over by the concept of billiards for
entertainment is Dian, a 21-year-old student who frequents
Bengkel and Gardu.

"I was always interested in playing pool, but until a couple
of years ago there weren't any places that were decent enough,"
she said, explaining that by "decent" she meant there was
sufficient lighting, it was not too smoky, there was cool music
-- and a cool crowd.

Tiyi, a high school student and model for teen magazines, said
she never set foot in a pool hall in the days when she thought
they were the exclusive domain of men, especially thugs.

Now, although she admits she does not play well, the pool hall
is her hangout of choice.

"Here I can hang out with my friends, either play or watch
other people play, and I don't have to worry about coming home
past my curfew," she said. "When you go clubbing you have to
arrive at least around midnight -- nobody goes clubbing at 10!
When I do get to go, I can't stay for long because I have to be
home by two."

She heads to the pool hall with her sister or friends -- "I
don't know why but it's always easier to get permission to play
pool than to go clubbing" -- at about 8 p.m. and plays until 11
p.m.

There is still enough time to fit in a short visit somewhere
else before she goes home.

Anan's mother, Amyrna Leandra, said she felt comfortable
knowing her daughter was out playing pool.

"I let her go because I know that it's only a game, and there
is nothing wrong with that. It's good that she can have fun at
it," she explained.

"As long as she doesn't get carried away and become addicted
to it, of course! But I trust her."

For the moment, Anan and her friends have found that their
place to be is the pool hall. But who knows how long the love
affair will last in Jakarta, where everybody seems to be in a
follow-the-leader act until the next trend comes along.