I am not a sporty person. I am known in the physical education department at my school as the kid who "tries really hard and totally gives 110 percent"--the tactful way of saying "your kid seems to intend to move the ball in the right direction, but we've never seen it happen." Although I have no illusions about my athletic aptitude, I've never really been satisfied with it. I was always jealous of the people who actually got the ball passed to them--even if people wanted to pass me the ball, no one was ever quite sure of what team I was even on.
When I was 15, a really good idea called Lucky Lanes presented itself to me. Bowling is kind of a sport, I thought. It involves movement and a ball. Besides, it can't be that hard. There are leagues for old people. Thinking my logic was infallible, I took the next opportunity to schedule a bowling trip with a couple of my friends and eagerly awaited my breakout performance.
When I got there, I realized two things: I am way more hopeless than I ever could have expected, and there are really fit old people in the world.
I didn't even get to an alley before I realized I had miscalculated. I couldn't find a ball that fits me. I have... big-boned fingers, meaning any bowling ball with the standard size holes accentuates every throw with the super attractive half popping, half squeaking sound of my fingers grasping for space. This meant that I had no choice but to go for the balls with the obscenely large holes. Unfortunately, these are also accompanied by a lot of weight (apparently, the assumption is that all overweight people have a lot of upper body strength, which... well... I'd like to see the study that concluded that) and if you're bad at aiming a ball that's light, you're extra bad at aiming a ball that's heavy. By the end of one game, the number of balls I had gathered to "try out" was greater than my average score per frame. When you consider that I was with three other people and only about seven balls fit on a rack... I don't want to talk about it.
Fast forward to now. I am still a terrible bowler--I proved that Thursday night with a group of friends. I made it into the newspaper recently for being recognized for making it into some list of top students in some other newspaper (see, I'm not totally useless...). I'm sitting with my grandfather and my mother at lunch on Thursday afternoon, eating a deliciously unhealthy plate of chicken and biscuits, when my grandfather turns to me and says:
"Oh, by the way, what's your bowling average?"
I had luckily just finished taking a sip of water. That isn't a question I'd ever have expected, and it's not information I'm keen on sharing. "...Why?"
"The newspaper said that you were on the bowling team."
At least the local newspaper is creative.
