Poteet Wins 9-Ball, Chohan Takes One Pocket at The Billiard Club, Mobile

Three balls dropped on the break. On the next visit, the 2 was cut into the corner with a touch of inside english; the cue ball travelled two rails and settled into perfect position for the 3-9 combination. Devin Poteet rolled the 9 in, won 7-3, and closed out a match at The Billiard Club in Mobile, Alabama.

That rack was beautiful, but it was one of hundreds played across three days, 10-12 March 2026. The story worth recording lies in how one venue, in one weekend, produced two American pool disciplines of opposite character — and two champions who arrived by opposite roads.

Context: one stop on a tavern circuit

The event is the Alabama 9-Ball Open with a separate One Pocket division, hosted by The Billiard Club as the opening stop of the Making It In America Tavern Series — a club-and-tavern circuit rather than a stop on any international tour. The prize money is put up by the organiser and local sponsors (Mobile Will/Westside Vending, Smash Billiards, Breezy Acres Crafts, South Alabama Billiards, PoolHub.live), but most of the cost of the event is carried by the players' own entry fees.

One Pocket: 19 players, $300 entry, $2,000 added. Double elimination, races to 3 and 2 on the winners' side, extended to 4 in the final; games are played to 8 balls in a player's own pocket.

9-Ball: 91 players, $150 entry. Races to 9, with the final extended to 11. Played on 7-foot Diamond tables — bar-box size — and run under alternate breaks, meaning the players take turns breaking rather than the winner breaking on.

One loose end: the 9-Ball added money is reported in two different figures — $10,000 in one place, $12,000 in another. The correct number needs confirmation from the organiser.

There was also a 48-player Nine Ball Mini, won by Ian Jones over William Perry.

Poteet: ten matches out of the one-loss side

Poteet lost in the second round, to Haas — who went on to finish third — and dropped to the one-loss side. From there he won ten straight matches to take the title. A run like that across three days demands stamina, concentration and the ability to hold up in the closing racks of match after match.

The numbers do not tell the whole story, but they know where the story starts: those ten wins began with a defeat in round two.

The rack described at the top of this piece is the clearest picture of that quality. At 6-3, one mistake would have prolonged the match; Poteet chose the cut with inside english and sent the cue ball two rails for position instead of playing safe, then finished with the 3-9 combination. That is the shot selection of a player who trusts his arm.

Chohan: winning with patience

If 9-ball rewards the player who strikes first, One Pocket rewards the one who can wait. In One Pocket, each player is assigned one corner pocket; to win a game you must put eight balls into your own pocket while preventing your opponent from doing the same. Which ball to shoot, which to push, and where to push it — that is the bulk of the work, rather than hard shot-making.

The One Pocket final went 4-1 to Tony Chohan over Josh Roberts, with games of 8-0, 8-4, 8-1, 8-0 and 8-1. An 8-0 game in One Pocket is rarely a story about pretty potting; it usually means the opponent barely had a look at his own pocket.

Before you pick a player, read what people call him. American pool calls Chohan a One Pocket specialist, and that label is itself a tactical map: he did not come to Mobile for 9-ball, he came for the game of pushes and slow decisions.

Rivas, Roberts and the grey zone of a scoreline

Sergio Rivas lost 0-3 to Roberts early, then won five straight on the one-loss side, reached the semi-final and went out 2-1 to Chohan. He finished third and produced the second-best run of the weekend.

Josh Roberts ran the other way. He beat Chohan 3-0 on the winners' side and walked into the final, then lost it 1-4. One event cannot settle anything about a player's nerve, but that number is worth watching at the next stop.

Shane McMinn finished fourth after losing a dogfight to Poteet. The field also included Kim Davenport, a Billiard Congress of America Hall of Famer and a Senior One Pocket Classic champion.

Why 7-foot tables and alternate breaks change the game

Years of watching American pool have taught me that most spectators watch the balls go in and miss the two things that decide the match: table size and the break rule.

On a 9-foot table, a positional error can be repaired with an extra rail. On a 7-foot Diamond, the distances are shorter and the angles tighter, so errors are paid for immediately. The cut with inside english followed by a two-rail route to position — the shot Poteet played — demands far more precision than the same shot on a big table.

Alternate breaks change the nature of the contest too. When the winner of a rack keeps the break, a strong breaker can build a chain of advantage. When the players alternate, that advantage disappears and the value shifts to running out from a neutral break. Put simply, the rule in Mobile rewards the player who converts chances, not the player who owns the most destructive break.

The contrarian angle: a clean scoreline can mislead

On the One Pocket winners' side, matches were races to 2 or 3; in the 9-ball, most matches were races to 9. Over such short distances, luck carries real weight. Only the two finals — to 4 in One Pocket and to 11 in 9-ball — were long enough to sort the stronger player from the weaker.

What makes the Poteet and Chohan story hold up is that both men won at the longest, most selective stage of the weekend, where luck is squeezed to its lowest level.

The denser the scoreline, the more the story has to be told with a human ear. Looking at 8-0, 8-4, 8-1, 8-0, 8-1, you can picture Chohan dominating. But read those numbers without knowing that One Pocket is a game of pushes and locks, and you will not understand why his opponent barely had a chance.

One more detail deserves attention: the 9-ball added money was published as two different figures. For a club-level event funded largely by entry fees, that inconsistency is a reminder that the money story in American pool is murkier than the story on the table.

In place of a conclusion

For three days in March, one club in Mobile staged two opposing games: one that rewards the player who strikes first, one that rewards the most patient. Both produced worthy champions. But if most of the cost still comes out of the players' own pockets, the open question is how long a circuit like this can keep both traditions alive.