I have a confession to make today, dear readers, concerning my status as a recovering addict.

No, that addiction has nothing to do with substance abuse, but a game. Yet be assured that it was not poker or some other form of gambling, but pool. At one time, beginning around junior high, I simply could not get enough of that game and had a cue stick in my hand every time the opportunity presented itself.

What does this have to do with anything, you might rightfully ask?

Well, I thought about that one-time infatuation for the game of pool this week when contemplating the loss by Teresa Lewis in the Mount Airy mayor’s election.

After Lewis supposedly had won the race — only to be told she had lost due to a vote-tabulation mistake — I tried to somehow put myself in her shoes. I attempted to identify with the pain of assuming that a much-sought-after goal was in hand, only to realize that it was gone.

And then, I remembered the pool table I once had, then didn’t in the blink of an eye.

When I was a young teen, pool halls often were not the kind of place parents wanted their child to occupy. Therefore, I was banned from the pool establishment in my hometown of Stuart, Va.

Yet since I was hopelessly “addicted,” I would still sneak in there for a game or two from time to time, only to be betrayed by the cue chalk on my fingers and the smoke from cigars and cigarettes hanging in my clothes. The opportunity to visit the forbidden place presented itself often, since I was a bag boy at the grocery story down the street and would venture there on my lunch hour.

After being grounded for the umpteenth time, a solution presented itself. I decided to buy my own pool table, using money I had saved. It just so happened that Christmas was around the corner as well, so my parents and grandparents agreed to chip in some as their present for the year. Since our house was smaller, my grandparents agreed to have the pool table placed in their basement.

I still remember going to a store that was in Mayberry Mall at the time, called the Sportsman’s Lodge, and seeing the most beautiful pool table I have ever laid eyes on, both before and since.

All the arrangements were made and the pool table was to be delivered to Granny’s house on a Saturday a few days before Christmas. Since I had to work, I could not be there to enjoy the occasion.

The guys from the store hauled the pool table over in a truck, just as planned, but what no one anticipated was not being able to get the table into Granny’s house. They tried the outside entrance, and the inside door, but due to the length of the table, and the presence of stairways, etc., there was no way to get it into the house without tearing out walls. The beautiful pool table had to be returned to Mount Airy.

When I came home that night, the box it came in was in the yard, a grim reminder of how close I had come to a dream.

Of course, a boyish desire for a pool table does not compare with an adult running a grueling and costly political campaign which that person thinks she has won, only to find out otherwise.

But I think the point to be learned from such disappointments is that they often can lead to other forms of happiness that are just as fulfilling.

If that elusive table had found its way into Granny’s basement, chances are I would have gotten quite good at the game. Then I likely would have become a pool shark, traveling around the country ala Fast Eddie Felson, the character played by Paul Newman in two memorable movies, “The Hustler” and “The Color of Money.”

As it was, I found happiness in other areas. That includes the world of journalism, which is how I come to be telling you this story here today, relating in a small way to the disappointment Teresa Lewis undoubtedly suffered Tuesday night.

Just as I found alternate activities to enjoy besides being “addicted” to pool, I am sure that not serving as mayor will allow Lewis to pursue some other dream that will be even more rewarding to her.

Tom Joyce is a staff reporter for The Mount Airy News. He can be reached at tjoyce@mtairynews.com or 719-1924.