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.
Although 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 New Year’s.
Family Billiards also happens to be just downhill and a stone’s throw from St. Ignatius Church, built in the style of a Roman basilica. Here, novices will discover that this authentic parlor is not unlike the one made famous in “The Hustler,” starring film legend Paul Newman.
If kids are involved, forget about it. One must be 18 years old to enter these hallowed halls.
Quiet. “Yeah, like a church,” whispers Fast Eddie when he first arrives at the 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 Billiards’ eighteen tables are regulation Brunswick Gold Crown models, regularly maintained to ensure first-rate playing conditions. Management here re-covers the tables with tournament-grade Simonis 860 tournament blue cloth, and it provides players with Belgian-made Super Aramith Balls.
As for the overall décor, however, let us just say that it is spare in the extreme. No Chesterfield sofas or overstuffed club chairs. The carpet could use an upgrade, and the lighting is uninspired. For billiards cognoscenti, this is our sanctum sanctorum.
Whereas a traditional holiday 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 jukebox featuring the greatest hits from the seventies 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 might 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. That out-of-placeness, in fact, led to the July 2024 sale of the building in which Family Billiards is housed, further complicating its story. Ironically, a Sacred Heart Catholic school now holds the pool hall’s future in its hands.
“Blessed Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now in the hour of our wayward shots.”
At the same time, it is important to note that Family Billiards 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 in the hour of our wayward shots.”
Which begs the question: How did the Holy Father unwind after performing his traditional Christmas obligations, not to mention all the preparations for the Jubilee year?
Billiards, while sipping a Fernet-Branca cocktail perhaps.
The game’s Catholic link is the stuff of legend. It is rumored that in 1846 Pope Pius IX had a billiards table installed in the Vatican. To this day, it is said to be the only sport apart from tennis that the church tolerates. Furthermore, one must remember that soccer-loving Pope Francis is from Argentina, where the game is widely played in restaurants and bars.
As of publication time, our calls to the Holy See on the matter of the establishment’s imminent future were unreturned, alas.
