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This venue is closed.

A nominal crowd of pool sharks and sports nuts are loyal to this peculiar, basement-level relic where owner-bartender Tommy Sellars cooks and serves free entrées such as cheeseburgers, fried chicken, brisket, and fishcakes. The squat, rounded entrance, wood-carved insignia over the door, and tchotchke-filled windows make this corner spot look like a leprechaun's cubbyhole. In fact, Sellers bought the place in the seventies and ran it as a jackets-only restaurant and bar. Back then, the "riff-raff" was kept out by buzzing customers in, which Sellars still insists on doing to his decidedly non-VIP clientele. The Soul Train-worthy décor also remains untouched—gold fringe on the ceiling, a dizzying Escher-inspired pattern on the floor, velveteen paintings. But it's the paraphernalia from the Giants and Ali (who's been here) that better reflects the bar's current calling: at any given time, at least five televisions broadcast sporting events and in a decaying, mirrored back room, the champion pool league competes twice a week. — Elizabeth Cline