Poteet and Chohan Shine in Mobile: How the 7-Foot Table Rewrites the Definition of 'Dominance'

The decisive shot came on the final visit. Devin Poteet placed the cue ball with inside english, sent it two rails and landed it perfectly for a 3-9 combo. He tapped it in. The nine rolled into the corner pocket. The score read 7-3, and the match closed. The real value of that moment was not the shot itself, but the road that led to it: ten consecutive wins off the one-loss side to take the Alabama 9-Ball Open title at The Billiard Club in Mobile, Alabama. For a player who fell in the second round to Justin Haas, running the entire length of the losers' bracket cannot be called luck. It is the trace of a different physical and mental structure. This event opened the Making It In America Tavern Series — a circuit staged in clubs and bars, not part of the world professional system. Two divisions shared one weekend: One Pocket and the Alabama 9-Ball Open. One Pocket carried 2,000 USD added money, a 300 USD entry, and a 19-player field. The 9-Ball had 10,000 USD added (some sources state 12,000 USD), a 150 USD entry, and 91 players. A 48-player Nine Ball Mini was also held, with Ian Jones beating William Perry in the final. Two technical details determine how the entire result should be read: the 9-ball division was played on 7-foot Diamond tables — bar-boxes, smaller than the professional 9-foot spec — and applied the alternate-break rule, meaning players alternate the break. On a 7-foot table, positional error is compressed. A shot that on a 9-foot table could still be rescued with a long rail can become a lost visit instantly on a bar-box. That rewards precise cue-ball control and the maximising of every single chance — exactly the skill set shown in Poteet's sequence: inside english, two rails, and a 3-9 combo to close the rack. But the structural factor is the alternate break. Under alternating breaks, the advantage of a dominant breaker is neutralised. No one can accumulate a break-and-run streak from a repeated break advantage. Each player must prove the ability to run out from a neutral break. This is why Poteet's title carries more technical weight than it appears: he did not win through superior breaking, but through converting every chance into points. Turn to One Pocket and the story inverts. Tony Chohan won the final 4-1 with near-total game scores: 8-0, 8-4, 8-1, 8-0, 8-1. In One Pocket, a game ends when a player pockets all eight balls into his own pocket. A score of 8-0 or 8-1 does not speak of scoring power, but of spatial control. Every One Pocket game revolves around the four-ball zone near one's own pocket, and whoever controls that zone — whoever forces the opponent to shoot from disadvantage — wins. Chohan's three near-shutout games in the final are evidence of dominance in move-play, not in shot-making. In this discipline, patience and correct decisions matter more than beautiful shots. What stands out is that Josh Roberts — who had beaten Chohan 3-0 on the winners' side — lost the final 1-4. On a one-event sample, this is a signal about conversion in the deciding match. But caution is required: short races on the winners' side (race to 2, race to 3) create enormous variance. A 3-0 win on the winners' side may reflect only a fleeting peak, while the race-to-4 final is the only genuine strength filter. Sergio Rivas — the reigning Buffalo's Pro Classic 8-Ball champion — is another form signal. After losing 0-3 to Roberts, he won five straight before falling 2-1 to Chohan. Shane McMinn, winner of the Music City Open, reached fourth after a tight match with Poteet. And Kim Davenport, a BCA Hall of Famer and 2026 Senior One Pocket Classic champion, was still in the field — a reminder that an American pool career, like pool in general, has a long tail. This is where the data tells a different story from the headline. Roberts won 3-0, then lost 1-4. Poteet lost in the second round, then won ten in a row. Same event, two opposite trajectories. Read only the final results and you see two deserving champions. Read the structure and you see a system that rewards the player who endures a marathon over the one who wins quickly. There is an implicit assumption in how pool results are read: that the winner is the better player. But in an event with races of 2-3 on the winners' side and an extended final, that assumption wobbles. Most matches here were decided in roughly 20-30 minutes — a window in which a lucky break or a small error can reverse the outcome. Small tables and short races are not just a means of saving time; they are a distinct competitive philosophy: lower the entry barrier, widen access, and accept that a title does not prove the winner was the best player — only that he best survived the chaos of that weekend. Poteet, with ten straight wins off the one-loss side, is the proof. He did not win through superior technique in a single moment, but through sustaining form across a long sequence. Error is where reality signs its name. In a short-race format, error is not eliminated — it is the primary variable. When the match ends, the number lies more subtly than the player. And the reader of results should remember that before calling anyone a 'deserving champion'. There is also a data problem: the added-money figure for the 9-ball division appears with two different values — 10,000 USD and 12,000 USD. That contradiction does not affect who won, but it reminds us that even the simplest facts in regional pool need verification. Tactics do not live on a blackboard; they live in the gap between two runs — and sometimes, in the gap between two numbers. What deserves tracking is not this title, but the next stop of the Making It In America Tavern Series. If Poteet goes deep again or wins another stop on 7-foot tables with alternate breaks, he escapes the label of 'one-event winner'. If Chohan keeps dominating One Pocket with lopsided scores, we are looking at a genuine specialist of move-play. And if the numbers keep contradicting each other, the question is not who won, but what exactly we are reading.