Weekly bowling: It’s good for the soul

Published 2:01 am Friday, October 3, 2008

As fall approaches, I start to get nervous … I married into

something and I am not sure how to escape. I married into a bowling league.

My husband has always been a huge bowling guy. He started working as a

pin setter and ball washer at Sun Villa Bowling Lanes way back in the

dark ages of his youth.

For some reason, he never got over the smell of cigarettes, stale beer

and lane oil, because for as long as I have known him, we have bowled. He is

a good bowler. He recently bowled a 245 game, which in bowling is

very good.

I am a bad bowler. Although I carry a respectable average of 130, I

have these games on a fairly regular basis where I cannot break a score of

100. Even my eight-year-old daughter can break 100 … bowling between

her legs. So, for me, bowling is hours of hopelessness broken up by

moments of sheer terror. I am just biding my time until I fall apart. Again.

My team is not a supportive group of people. Once I bowled four

strikes in a row (a miracle by my ability). The next frame I bowled a nine. My

teammates – including my future ex-husband – booed me! Most of the time

my team ignores me, but watch out if I bowl a gutter ball. The very team

that has spent all night barely acknowledging my presence will break out in

an extremely cynical round of applause. The sad thing about the whole

ordeal is that my first time bowling with the love of my life was to set the stage

for my future.

It was a chance to get to know his family. They all bowl. So, a group

of about twelve of us went “moonlight bowling.” Now moonlight bowling

is where bowling alleys reload the lanes with colored pins. If you get a

strike and you have a red pin in the front, then you get $1. Difficult

combinations have higher prizes. In addition, there are raffle tickets sold. Get

your number called and you are bowling for a pot of money based on the

amount of entries.

Now you have to realize that before this night, I had bowled

maybe five times in my whole life. I trusted my future ex-husband to guide

me through the whole process. Boy, was I out of luck.

My number got called. Had I known what I know now, I would

have never bought tickets … but my ever lovin’ bought them for me as a

gift. Had I known what I know now, if I had a ticket and it got called, I

would hand it off to the first drunk I met (I had lots of choices). But I did not

know anything then, so I turned in my ticket and picked up my neon pink

house ball. Then everything went dark. It seems when you are bowling for

the big money they darken the house lights and put a spotlight on the bowler.

Me. What the heck, I may never see these people again.

So I closed my eyes and threw the ball and it went straight … into

the gutter. Remember the lanes are full of people who bowl often and well.

There was a collective groan.

You know what they were thinking? What was wrong with a

person who bowled like I did? Why did I buy a ticket? After the M.C. stopped

laughing and could breath again, he announced that they would give me

$50 to pick up the spare. It was a safe bet. I threw my ball again and off it

went to the opposite gutter.

Now most people would vow never to set foot in a bowling

alley again. They certainly would not marry the person who introduced such

pain. But love does weird things to people, so now I bowl every Friday

night. Probably for the rest of my God-given life.

I have improved. The humiliations are fewer and farther between. I

am getting a little more confident. Yet I know in the back of my mind that

the next humbling game is right around the corner.

It is a good thing I have a thick skin. I need it to bowl.

Kate Russell lives between Carnation and Duvall in the lower valley.

You can reach her at Katemo1@msn.com