A flashback to 2021, when pool's quiet king almost pulled off the ultimate vanish act... by accident.
In the humid haze of Angeles City, Philippines – that neon-lit hub of billiards where cues crack like thunder and dreams are pocketed for pocket change – Efren "Bata" Reyes was just trying to be a dad. It was early 2021, and his daughter Chelo's birthday was in full swing. No lavish cakes or Vegas-style spreads here. Just family, a few bottles of San Miguel, and the one thing that binds the Reyes clan tighter than a frozen rail: a pool table.
Efren, at 66, was already a living myth. Born in 1954 in Pampanga, the kid who hustled as a billiard hall attendant at age 12, had long transcended the green felt. "The Magician," they called him, for shots that defied physics – kick shots that danced the cue ball like a salsa partner, banks that whispered secrets to the 9-ball before sending it home. He'd pocketed over 100 international titles: World Eight-Ball champ four times, the 1999 WPA World Nine-Ball crown, and even a bronze at the 2019 Southeast Asian Games in one-cushion carom. Pros like Francisco Bustamante and fans worldwide hailed him as the GOAT, the guy who made pool look like sorcery. But on this night, he wasn't dazzling crowds in Derby City or outfoxing Earl Strickland. He was home, racking up for a friendly race game against his own flesh and blood.
Chelo, ever the firecracker, had been needling her old man all evening. Efren – humble as ever, with that perpetual half-smile and eyes that twinkled like polished ivories – was no pushover, even buzzed. But birthdays bring bravado, and alcohol loosens the tongue (and the stroke). They settled on a race to 7 or 9 in straight pool or 9-ball – the details are folklore now, passed around pool halls like a lucky lucky piece. Chelo, feeling her oats after a couple of pops, grabs her phone mid-game. "My dad is dead tonight!" she posts on Facebook, complete with laughing emojis and a cue emoji for good measure. Translation? *I'm burying him on this table. The Magician's magic runs out at home.*
Cue the chaos. They play till the wee hours – rumors swirl that Chelo actually *won* a rack or two, or at least came perilously close, enough to fuel her legend in the family scrapbook. Exhausted and elated, father and daughter stumble to a nearby hotel, crash hard, and silence their phones. The post? It explodes. In the Philippines' hyper-connected pool community, where Efren's every break is gospel, that innocuous brag gets screenshotted, shared, and – in the best tradition of viral misfires – mangled. "Dead" stops being slang for "defeated." Whispers turn to wails: *Bata's gone? Heart attack? Hotel room?* By dawn, doctored headlines are everywhere.
Enter the hoax machine. A 2017 ABS-CBN article about Efren's retirement musings gets Photoshopped into oblivion. Swap in a grim byline: “Efren ‘Bata’ Reyes Passes Away at 65.” Add a black-bordered thumbnail with "RIP 1954-2021," pilfer a photo from some fan art, and boom: Fake news tsunami. Facebook groups light up. Pool forums freeze. International outlets pick it up – *Pool legend Efren Reyes dead in Angeles City hotel.* Tributes pour in from Manila to Mosconi Cup vets.
Back at the hotel, Efren stirs around noon, head pounding like a botched draw shot. Phone on? 500+ missed calls. He squints, chuckles that deep, rumbling laugh – the one that says he's seen worse banks – and calls Chelo. "Anak, what did you do?" She checks her feed and facepalms. The post, now with 10,000 shares, is a crime scene of context collapse.
By afternoon, damage control. Chelo hits Facebook live: First, a clip of Efren lounging on the sofa, glued to an NBA game. "Okay lang akooo!" he drawls in Tagalog, that smile crinkling his eyes, waving like he's greeting a gallery after a combo. Cut to video two: Him at the table, stroking a practice rack, sinking the 9 with effortless spin. "Ito po ako, buhay na buhay!" The family fires off statements, and Efren fields calls from everyone from Rubilen Amit to international wire services.
The world exhales. In the end? No harm, just hilarity. Chelo's post became Reyes family lore – the night she "killed" her dad at pool and accidentally fooled the planet. Efren? He shrugged it off like a safety play, back to exhibitions and mentorships. Bata taught us all: In pool and life, it's not the misses that define you – it's the magic in the recovery.
Four years on, as Efren nears 71 and still draws crowds like a rockstar (or that time he shared a charcuterie raid with a starry-eyed fan at breakfast), the hoax stands as his slyest trick. Not a kick shot or a masse', but a reminder: Legends don't die easy.
