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Jeanette Lee strides to the pool table, exuding all the confidence of a top international billiards player. Tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind one ear, she leans over the surface and intently studies the balls for a split second before slipping the cue stick between her fingers. Her lean, muscular arm extends backward four times in rapid succession as her thin frame gathers strength. Then, with tremendous force, she sends the cue ball whirling across the felt to break the triangle of colored spheres at the other end.

With deadly precision, she makes her way around the table, pocketing shots as skillfully as a champion marksman. In a matter of minutes, only a group of four balls remains. Once again, Lee extends her powerful right arm, aims the cue ñ and clears the table in a single shot.

Such incredible talent seems ripped from the pages of a superhero comic book ñ but even Spiderman had nothing on this phenomenal athlete. Known as the Black Widow of billiards, Lee has rapidly made a name for herself in the sporting world for her calculated strategy and fierce competitiveness. Currently ranked second internationally, she rocketed into the ranks of the top 10 in the Womenís Professional Billiards Association after only her first year in the pros; the following year, at age 23, she became the No. 1 player in the world. Her ability to skillfully defeat her opponents ñ coupled with her tendency to dress in black during tournaments ñ took on such legendary proportions after her whirlwind entry that fans and foes alike named her after a deadly insect. "It started as a joke, with some guys comparing me to a black widow spider because I could devour my opponents," Lee says. "But then the nickname became so popular that it stuck."

Now 27, Lee is revered as much for her grace and elegance as she is for her skill at the table. Billiards commentators frequently attribute the growing popularity of the sport to two factors: nationally televised tournaments on ESPN, and Leeís youthful, flamboyant style. Her celebrity status has soared with high-profile features in People, Glamour and Sports Illustrated, and sheís been billed on Extra, Hard Copy, MTV Sports and various talk shows as poolís premier female athlete. Sheís even had cameo roles on HBOís series Arli$$: The Art of the Super SportsAgent and in the Walt Disney movie The Other Sister, starring Diane Keaton, thatís slated for release at the end of this year.

Fortunately, sheís up to the challenge of acting as a role model. "Iíd like to think Iím a smaller version of Tiger Woods," she says, citing golfís young star. "I get comments all the time that I bring a cool, hip image to a sport that used to be stuffy and boring. Pool still isnít equal to football or basketball, but hopefully I can help turn that around."

In some ways, she already has. Her movie-star good looks and unconventional tournament wardrobe have begun to tear down the misconception that women athletes canít be talented and feminine at the same time. "Itís the age-old stereotype that playing sports of any kind makes you a jock, not a woman," Lee says. "But the game is what we do; it isnít who we are." Following her lead, fellow players who previously conformed to the dress code of trousers and button-down shirts have begun adopting beaded tops and flowing pantsuits, inspired by Leeís attire. ESPN viewers apparently also appreciate the change: Today, women make up nearly 40 percent of amateur billiards players nationwide ñ an impressive increase from the mere 1 percent figure when Lee pocketed her first ball. "My role models were all men when I was starting out because this wasnít a sport women played a decade ago ñ I even used to get suspicious looks from women who watched me," she says. "But if you walk into a pool hall now, youíll find plenty of women, and thatís wonderful to see."

Fast Break

Leeís strength and confidence today reveal little of the struggle she experienced. Growing up in a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn, N.Y., she faced plenty of challenges before she even turned 18. For one thing, her Korean-American family lived in a racially mixed neighborhood with few ethnic role models for Lee and her older sister, Doris. Her parents, who immigrated before the girls were born, could offer little help. Besides facing constant financial pressures, the family suffered a personal blow when Leeís father left home shortly after she turned 6. Her mother, a registered nurse, shouldered the burden of sole caretaker until she remarried three years later.

With her mother working constantly and her older sister attending a city high school for the gifted, Lee found herself essentially on her own except for the few friends she made. Unfortunately, those friendships took their toll on the young girl as well: Lee was the last in her group to hit puberty, which had a devastating effect on the way she perceived her body. "I thought I was ugly, that I looked like a boy and that I was too skinny," she says. "There was nothing about me that I liked."

Leeís negative self-image wasít confined to problems existing only in her mind. To add injury to insult, she suffered from scoliosis, an S-shaped curvature of the spine that weakens the back and can result in muscle and nerve pain, vertebral arthritis and lung problems. Diagnosed with the condition at age 13, she had two metal rods (together 28 inches in length) implanted in her back the following year in an effort to stabilize her backbone. Understandably, coping with a serious medical problem forced her self-esteem just that much lower. "I constantly worried about what others thought of me and about what I had to do to fit in," she says. "But I never seemed cool enough, no matter how hard I tried."

In reality, Lee was a pretty young girl with a bright mind. She attended the Bronx High School of Science, earned good grades in accelerated classes and loved working with children: She originally planned to become an elementary teacher or open a community youth center in New York City. Yet instead of recognizing her positive qualities, Lee magnified her shortcomings and constantly compared herself to her sister. "There was never anything I could do to catch up to her," she says. "Sure, I was smart, but my sister was valedictorian. I was this ugly little thing, but she was the prettiest girl I knew. She was my idol, and I absolutely adored her."

Then, at age 18, Lee decided on a whim to accept a friendís invitation to check out a Manhattan pool hall. She walked into a room filled with whirling balls and green felt tables ñ and found herself transported to another world. "I was mesmerized by the constant click of the cue ball as it hit the other balls," she says. "Here was a healthy escape for me to work through my problems, almost as if it was therapy. Virtually overnight I changed from a weak-willed little girl to a confident, disciplined person ñ and it was wonderful."

She began practicing pool as often as possible, spending at least 10 hours a day in the pool hall ñ often forgetting to eat in her quest to master her shots. She learned her way around the table largely by trial and error, but she honed her skills by watching veteran players and studying strategy books. She became so obsessed with the sport that she imagined peopleís heads turning into billiards balls. "I needed to be playing constantly because every minute I was asleep, thousands of women were playing pool and getting better than me," she says. "And I didnít want to wait until I was 40 to be the best. I had a lot to learn, and I didnít have any time to waste."

The constant practice would have exhausted anyone, but Leeís chronic back problems cast a menacing shadow on her career goals from her very first shot. Bending from the waist can aggravate scoliosis, and physicians have warned her that repeatedly leaning over a pool table can damage the metal rod in her back ñ not to mention her already frail spine. In one instance, she played 37 hours straight her first year and literally collapsed; two friends had to carry her out of the billiards hall because she could no longer stand.

Yet Lee says the threat of intense physical pain canít compare to the emotional anguish of living without pool. "My back used to hurt all the time, and it still bothers me if Iíve played more than usual," she says. "But I didnít pick pool; it picked me. Pool is my oxygen, and I need it to live and breathe. Sure, it might make some activities more uncomfortable, but if I stop playing, I will wither up and die in my heart. I have to play."

Still, she admits sheís a bit more cautious about her physical condition these days, partly to avoid sabotaging her career and partly because she and husband George Breedlove hope to have a large family some day. Sheíll have to undergo another surgery before sheíll be able to have children ñ the current metal rods will likely be replaced by shorter ones ñ but preventive maintenance is the best safeguard against future complications. As such, Lee limits her playing time to between 20 and 30 hours a week and avoids repeated lifting and bending.

She also remains fairly upbeat, focusing on her ability to increase public awareness of her condition. Earlier this year she founded the Jeanette Lee Foundation, a not-for-profit organization that supports scoliosis research. Lee also serves as the national spokesman for The Scoliosis Association, delivers motivational speeches for youths and stages several celebrity billiards tournaments to raise funds for the cause and encourage public support. "Someone in my shoes can do so much to teach people, so a lot of good actually comes out of this," she says. "Life doesnít always turn out the way you expect it to, but you make the best of what you get."

Table for Two

Of course, some surprises are better than others, as in the case of Leeís unexpected rendezvous with Breedlove in 1995. The two first met at a menís billiards tournament in Los Angeles when Breedlove, an Indianapolis native and also a professional player, made dinner plans with Lee and several friends the first evening. By the time the group assembled, everyone but Lee, Breedlove and one other player had canceled, so the three went out together. Over dinner, Lee sensed some chemistry between them and invited Breedlove to chat afterward. "He was so cute and such a gentleman," she recalls. "I was used to meeting charming men, but there was something different about George. He made me happy every time we talked."

Though Lee vows she wasnít looking for a boyfriend ñ she had ended a relationship three months earlier ñ she accepted Breedloveís invitation to dinner the following night. This time she looked for signs that he was interested in dating, but found no indication that his intentions went beyond friendship. "Nothing in any of his mannerisms hinted that he was interested in me," she says. "He never complimented me, and he never gave me that look or that smile. I wasnít sure whether he even liked me, but I really wanted to find out."

The third day of the tournament the two went to Santa Monica Pier. Lee, who had moved to Los Angeles five months earlier, suggested they walk along the beach. As they set out, Breedlove reached out and took her hand. Later that evening he kissed her for the first time, and they began discussing their individual futures. As they talked about their career goals and personal priorities, the subject suddenly shifted to marriage. "Until then, weíd never discussed dating or seeing each other after the tournament," Lee says. "One minute we hardly knew each other, and the next minute George proposed ñ and I accepted."

So after three days, the Black Widow found herself making wedding preparations. Breedlove sold his furniture business in Indianapolis shortly afterward and moved to Los Angeles to join Lee. Six months later, on Jan. 6, 1996, they were wed in a Korean-American Christian ceremony in New York City ñ the same day the Blizzard of í96 hit the East Coast. "It all happened so fast, even though I had always promised myself that I would know a guy for at least two years before I ever married him," Lee says. "And I canít honestly say that I loved George when he proposed, but he had all the right qualities and I knew I would love him."

Now more than two years later, Lee says sheís never regretted their impulsive decision to marry. Part of what keeps the relationship working, she says, is their ability to keep their competitive natures from interfering with their personal lives. They practice together to sharpen their skills ñ and sometimes to settle differences, she admits ñ but such in-home tournaments are few and far between. "We almost never play with each other now," Lee says. "Weíre both working and traveling, so when weíre home together, the last thing we want to do is play pool. We want to cuddle on the couch or relax in front of the fireplace, just like any married couple."

Long Shots

With such a hectic schedule ñ both Lee and Breedlove travel separately about three weeks each month on the billiards circuit ñ the relaxed atmosphere of the Midwest has proven a welcome escape from frenzied tournament activity. Initially, however, Lee wasnít exactly thrilled with the thought of shifting home base from Los Angeles to Indianapolis. In fact, it took a year and a half for Breedloveís longing to return to his family and his native state to finally overcome her reluctance: The couple moved to Indianapolis on Thanksgiving Day 1997.

The first few months were rough, and Lee felt like a fish out of water as she struggled to adjust to an entirely new culture. Accustomed to the diversity of New York and Los Angeles, she was shocked to find so few Asian people ñ and few Korean restaurants ñ in Indianapolis. Whatís more, living in central Indiana proved less of an advantage for travel than living on the coasts: Because Indy doesnít serve as a major airline hub, she must fly to Cincinnati or Chicago before reaching her destination.

Fortunately, the initial culture shock wore off, thanks to some novel experiences. "One of the most exciting things was seeing so many animals ñ horses, cows, pheasants and ducks everywhere," Lee says. "We used to see pigeons in New York, but no ducks!" She was also intrigued by the idea of becoming friends with her neighbors; one set brought the couple a bottle of wine and zucchini bread the day after they moved, and they now take care of Leeís two Italian greyhounds when sheís out of town. "This is the first time Iíve actually known my neighbors because you just do your own thing in other cities," she says. "Iím still not over the novelty of it."

Perhaps more importantly, Indyís low crime rate and emphasis on family values gradually prompted Lee to focus on lifeís simple pleasures, such as hosting swimming parties in her backyard for the neighbor children or trading recipes with newfound friends. No longer does she clutch her purse tightly when walking down the street, and she doesnít panic when sheís alone in the car in public: In New York she was robbed at gunpoint at a gas station on two separate occasions. "People here take it for granted that you donít have to be so afraid," she says. "The whole tempo is more relaxed and so much more carefree. Itís a terrible thing to live in fear your whole life."

Lee and Breedlove have even discussed settling here permanently and raising a family. In fact, theyíre already taking steps in that direction: They own a home on the northside, and Breedlove plans to extend his current Nashville, Tenn.-based furniture business, Integrity Outdoor Products, into Indianapolis sometime in the future. Though Lee says retirement is still a few years off, she admits that the idea of teaching elementary school appeals to her ñ particularly in such a family-centered community. "Kids can really thrive in supportive environments like this one, and Iíd love to be a part of making the next generation stronger," she says.

Those plans likely wonít take effect for at least the next five to 10 years, though: For now, Lee says sheís having too much fun with her sport to give it up. She hints, however, that she wonít trade in her Hoosier residence for the bright lights of either coast. "I never thought I would want to stay, because I was used to the big-city lifestyle," she says. "But with good friends, a family-oriented community and all four seasons, I think I could live here forever."