Every developer I admire has a hobby that has nothing to do with code.
Some play music. Some cook elaborate meals. Some restore vintage motorcycles. One guy I know does competitive Rubik's cubing. Like, timed. With judges. It's intense.
Mine is billiard. 🎱
Yes, pool. The thing in bars. The game your uncle thinks he's good at after three beers.
The Burnout That Started It
In 2022, I was deep in the grind. Freelancing, studying, building side projects. My entire identity was "developer."
Asked what I do for fun: "I code personal projects." Asked what I'm learning: "New frameworks." Asked about hobbies: "Programming is my hobby."
Did you know? Research shows that people whose sole identity is their work experience worse mental health outcomes and are more susceptible to burnout. Turns out "I am my job" isn't a personality—it's a liability.
Then I hit a wall.
Not a dramatic collapse—just a slow fade. The excitement of solving problems turned into mechanical typing. Code that used to feel creative felt like assembly line work.
I needed something else. Something that didn't involve a keyboard.
Picking Up the Cue
A friend invited me to play pool one random Saturday. I'd never really played seriously—just messed around at the occasional bar, occasionally sinking a ball by complete accident and pretending it was intentional.
That first session went like this:
- Missed 14 shots
- Scratched the cue ball 3 times
- Accidentally hit the 8-ball in early once (instant loss)
- Somehow had the best time I'd had in months
Here's the thing: I wasn't thinking about databases. I wasn't debugging. I wasn't wondering if I should've used TypeScript instead of JavaScript for that side project from 2021.
I was just... calculating angles. Feeling the weight of the cue. Watching physics happen in real-time. Getting humbled by a game my uncle swears he's great at.
It was the first time in months I wasn't solving a software problem. My brain was solving a geometry problem. Same satisfaction, completely different context.
Did You Know?
Trivia: Studies show that creative or skill-based hobbies outside your profession reduce burnout by up to 30%. The brain needs varied stimulation—doing the same type of problem-solving 12 hours a day is like running on a treadmill that never stops. Sometimes you need to play pool instead. Preferably badly.
Billiard is Just Debugging With Geometry
Once I got better (and by "better" I mean I stopped hitting the ceiling with my cue), I noticed something funny:
Billiard and development are weirdly similar.
Reading the Table = Analyzing Code
Before any shot, I scan the table. Where's my ball? Where's the target? What's blocking me? It's like reading a codebase—understanding the current state before making a change.
Except with code, the balls don't move when you stare at them. Usually.
Planning 3 Shots Ahead = System Design
Good players don't just sink one ball—they set up the next shot. And the one after that. Same with code. Good architecture isn't about the current feature; it's about what comes after.
Though admittedly, my "3 shots ahead" planning usually ends with me accidentally sinking the cue ball into my coffee cup.
The Miss = The Bug
Sometimes I'm CERTAIN the shot will sink. I've visualized it. I've done the geometry. It's perfect.
And it rims out. Hits the pocket edge. Bounces back like it personally dislikes me.
That feeling? It's identical to when you're SURE your code is correct... and it fails the test. Spectacularly. In prod.
Both teach you humility. And to double-check your angles. And that overconfidence is the enemy.
Did you know? Professional pool players miss approximately 10-15% of "easy" shots. Even the experts fail. It's built into the game. Just like software bugs are built into software. You're not special for failing—you're normal.
Practice > Theory
I can watch YouTube tutorials all day. I can memorize angles. I can read books about English and draw (that's advanced stuff, non-billiard people).
But the only way to get better is to actually take shots. Miss them. Adjust. Repeat.
Sound familiar? Tutorials won't make you a developer. Writing code—and failing—will.
The Balance
I still code way more than I play billiard.
But knowing I have something else—something that uses a different part of my brain—keeps me sane.
When I'm stuck on a bug, I think about break shots. About angles. About the satisfying clack of a clean hit.
When I return to the keyboard, the answer is usually waiting. The subconscious worked while the conscious was distracted.
Did you know? There's a cognitive phenomenon called the "incubation effect" where stepping away from a problem allows your brain to solve it in the background. Your subconscious keeps working on problems while you do something else. Billiard is my incubation ritual. Yours could be cooking, or hiking, or aggressive stamp collecting.
To the Developer Without a Hobby
Pick something. Anything.
- Cooking (burn things, learn from it)
- Music (annoy your neighbors, improve over time)
- Woodworking (power tools AND patience? Dangerous combo)
- Drawing (start bad, get less bad)
- Sports (sweat exists for a reason)
- Board games (socially acceptable strategic thinking)
- Gardening (watching something grow that isn't your tech debt)
It doesn't matter what. Just choose something where success isn't measured in deployments or commits or story points.
You'll burn out slower. Think clearer. And ironically, write better code.
Because the best developers I know aren't just developers.
They're humans who happen to write code.
And occasionally sink a really satisfying 8-ball in the corner pocket. Called shot. On purpose. 🎱
(Most of the time it's an accident but we don't talk about that.)
