The Pool Game and The Philosophy Major

It was a regular evening at the pool hall, the kind of place where you can unwind and focus on the simple satisfaction of aiming and sinking shots. I wasn’t particularly invested in playing against someone, just destressing from work.

Out of nowhere, this girl approached me. She had an air of curiosity and confidence about her, the kind of person who could start a conversation anywhere. “Mind if I join you for a few rounds?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said with a smile. “Why not?”

We got to playing, and as we did, we made small talk.. obviously. She mentioned she was a philosophy major, and asked me what I do for a living... I replied saying I make robots, to which she said "So you are obviously good at math". I laughed and shrugged as I broke the rack. As we played, the conversation turned interesting. She started talking about life, uncertainty, and how humans are always trying to make sense of things they can’t predict. I was intrigued—not every day does a pool game turn into a discussion on the nature of existence.

The Question That Made Me Think

By the time we reached the fifth game, we’d split the wins evenly: two games each. It felt like a perfect balance—an unspoken agreement that we were playing for fun, not competition.

As she set up the table for the last game, she asked, “What’s one thing you think can be agreed upon both mathematically and philosophically?”

I paused, leaning on my cue stick. It was a fantastic question, the kind that lingers in the air like a perfectly hit shot waiting to sink. I thought for a moment and then smiled. An epiphany struck me... I said, “Let me answer by showing you.”

The Game That Became the Answer

The break was lucky—I managed to pot two balls right away. She smiled, probably thinking it was a fluke. I lined up my next shot and sank another ball and then another. The smile on her face started to waver, but she didn’t say anything.

As I continued, ball after ball, I noticed her demeanor change. She wasn’t upset—more curious, as if trying to figure me out. By the time I was down to just the 8-ball, I could see the mix of emotions on her face: a little annoyance, a little amusement, and maybe a little admiration.

I stood up straight, holding the cue stick like it was a prop in a philosophy lecture. “Let me explain,” I said, breaking the silence.

The Explanation: Math, Philosophy, and Life

“You see when we started playing, you had no idea how good I was. You made a guess based on what you saw—how I played, how often I missed, and so on. That’s how we all form our first impressions of people. You thought I was just an average player, maybe a little better than you, maybe not.”

I pointed at the table. “But as this game went on, you started to gather more evidence. I potted two balls on the break—maybe you thought it was just luck. Then I sank another shot, and another, and another. With each one, you began to update what you believed about my skill. By now, watching me line up this 8-ball, you’re probably almost certain I’ll make it. That’s the power of evidence. It forces us to rethink what we believed before.”

I took a step back and continued. “This is where philosophy and math meet. Mathematically, this process is called Bayes’ theorem. It’s about revising what you believe when new evidence comes in and making predictions based on all the evidence you have at hand.

But what does that have to do with life... right?" I asked, noticing the mix of confusion and curiosity on her face. I let the silence linger for a moment, leaning in slightly, and then continued, "Everything. Because life, like this game, is about observing, adapting, and knowing when to make your move... or when to walk away.

“When you meet someone, you don’t know who they really are. At first, you take a guess based on their words, their actions, and the way they make you feel. But as time goes on, you start to notice patterns. Good moments build trust, but bad moments make you question things... when they keep repeating they are called red flag. The more evidence you gather, the clearer the picture becomes.”

I gestured toward the table. “Think of this game as a metaphor. At first, you didn’t know if you were going to win or lose. But as I kept clearing the table, the evidence became undeniable: I wasn’t going to let you win. In life, those red flags are like realizing you’re losing the game. When you see the signs, don’t ignore them. Don’t wait for someone else to let you win. Walk away when the evidence tells you it’s the right thing to do.”

The Final Shot: A Philosophical Mic Drop (Sort of)

I lined up the shot for the 8-ball, took a breath, and sank it cleanly into the corner pocket. I placed the cue stick on the table and looked at her with a smile.

“So that’s my answer. Mathematically and philosophically, life is about updating your beliefs based on your experiences. Whether it’s a game of pool or a relationship, the evidence doesn’t lie. When you know it’s not going your way, it’s okay to step away and protect yourself.”

She stood there for a moment, processing it all. Then she laughed softly and said, “That’s probably the best answer I’ve ever gotten in a pool hall.”

We laughed, shook hands, and called it a night. I left feeling like I’d won more than just a game.