Bowling 2012

So we started our winter bowling league with the Columbus Ski Club on Sunday and, while it was a lot of fun, let’s just say that I am in big trouble. Why? Because we set our handicap the first night – and I bowled too darn well.

My team has a first night tradition of gathering for dinner at a wings place across the street before bowling to, y’know, do a little carb-loading to prep for our stellar performances to come. We figure that all that wing sauce and beer in our bellies will have an adverse effect on our scores for the first night. I believe the term is “sandbagging”…but – alas – no sandbagging did I do. And I tried. Believe me, I tried.

So now all season long I’ll be trying (and failing) to reach the average that I set on Sunday. I bowled a 117, 127 and a 151. My average usually hovers somewhere around 120, so the first two scores were in the correct general range. It’s the 151 that is the problem.

Fortunately, our averages adjust over time and I’m sure that soon enough I’ll be back in the mediocre range that I’m comfortable with.

Oh, don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I want to accept mediocrity as my standard, but when it comes to bowling, I’m a pretty mediocre bowler with occasional flashes of brilliance.

On Sunday I scored more strikes than I probably will all the rest of the year. And the 10th frame of the last game was spooky. I’d bowled a spare on the 9th frame, so when I approached the lane for the 10th frame, I figured I’d probably knock down anywhere between one and three pins.

I evidently don’t do well under pressure when it comes to bowling. Many times I leave a lot of potential points on the table by following spares with some miniscule (and embarrassing) number of pins on the next frame.

Except that on Sunday I bowled a spare after the 9th frame spare. Okay. That was cool. So I had my final throw of the evening – and I bowled a strike. It was an ugly strike, but it was a strike nonetheless.

And my final score was 151.

Normally I’d be thrilled with that score, but I know how tough it is going to be to meet my new and improved average in the next few weeks.

Why? Because the truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing when I bowl. I walk up to the lane, pick up my ball, and hurl it down the lane without any finesse or expertise whatsoever. I do not know what it means to throw a curve ball. A curve ball to me is the same thing as a gutter ball. Mostly I just aim the ball in the general direction of the pins in my own lane and try to remain standing after the ball has left my hand. If I can accomplish those two objectives, I feel like I’ve done a good job.

Actually knocking down all the pins is pure gravy.

So we’ll see what next week brings. My luck, I’ll bowl all three games with two-digit scores instead of three. Ugh.

Perhaps more carb-loading is in order?

Sore Loser?

Vince and I are on the Ski Club Euchre league this winter, so we play Euchre with a group of other cutthroat Euchre players. Well, okay, not really. Most of them are casual players and play just for fun. And then there are the serious players who are not there to chitchat or discuss the latest serving of American Idol. They’re there to maximize their points so they can win at the end of the season.

I’m there for fun, although I admit that I’d love to win. Just once. I’d even take second or third place. But I’ve never managed it.

Oh, I’m not bad. There have even been a few times I’ve been up there at the top of the list, but then I’d have a week where my score was abysmally low and I’d lose my top ranking.

Sigh. Such is the way of card playing…

So here we are embarking on our fourth week of play. I’m in 5th place. I think. I might even be tied for 5th place, I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter – because unless I have a phenomenal score tonight, I’ll stay out of the top spots and won’t win. Again.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I should think positively. But I seem to have a good week followed by a bad week. Tonight, if I’m following this same pattern, will be a bad week.

I hope not. I have to admit that I’m a little competitive and get a little cranky when I don’t play well. Okay, a LOT competitive and a LOT cranky. What can I tell you? I don’t like to lose. And, since I’m in Confession Mode…I get even crankier when Vince’s score is higher than mine.

Ooh…I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. Except that Vince totally knows how competitive I am. He’s just loving enough not to verbally point out my glaring flaw. Truthfully, Vince is a little competitive himself and freely admits it, but he’s a better poker player than I and is able to act like it doesn’t matter to him.

I guess this is why I don’t play poker. Well, I tried once. Let’s just say that I do not possess a poker face. I couldn’t contain my excitement when I was dealt a full house – only to have everyone fold before I could amass a fortune. Nor could I even pretend to bluff when I had a crappy hand.

So even though we were playing for nickels, dimes and quarters, I figured it was better to stay away from the gaming tables.

Probably I should stick to Go Fish with my 7-year-old niece. Only she has beaten me the last several times we’ve played Go Fish together. And I don’t think I could take being called a sore loser by a 7-year-old.

Hmmm…what’s left? Solitaire?

Oh well. I will just have to keep repeating, “It’s only a game…This is FUN!...It’s only a game…This is FUN!”

Maybe I’ll even believe it.

But I wouldn’t bet on it!

So Is Bowling A Sport or Not? Discuss.

I’ve heard it said that bowling cannot be considered a real sport. Why? Because any activity in which beer can be drunk during play should never count as a real sport. Okay, I’ll buy that.

I haven’t heard that bowling could be considered comedy either, but when I bowled last week it was pretty funny considering there was a pratfall from yours truly and everything. Unintentional, of course. But if I’d been watching myself, I probably would’ve laughed.

Yep, I took a header when my heretofore reliable (and cute) hot pink-and-black bowling shoes were placed upon my feet in the warm bowling alley after having been left all week in the freezing garage. Condensation is more than a weather-related term. Who knew?

I was shocked when I suddenly landed in a heap on the floor after my first throw. But I was even more shocked when, after hauling myself back upright, I looked up and saw that I’d somehow managed to knock down nine of the pins. I figured on the way down I might have lost control of the ball and flung it across the next several lanes. Good thing I didn’t. It’s also a good thing it didn’t pop-up like in softball and come back down and conk me on the head while I was crumpled up on the floor of Lane 5.

I guess I didn’t know bowling could be a contact sport. (Oh wait…that’s right. We’re not calling it a “sport.”)

At any rate, the folks in the neighboring lanes who saw me take the fall were very kind and solicitous and didn’t even snicker once. Well, not in front of me, anyway. Once they ascertained that I was ambulatory, they gave me a sympathetic nod as if to say, “Better you than me, lady!” and then went back to concentrating on their own games.

After that embarrassing debacle, I realized I still had to throw my second ball. With any delay of game, my second throw is usually a gutter ball. But I surprised myself even further when, after tentatively tip-toeing up to the line, I threw the ball…and picked up the spare!

And then, of course, I slunk off back to my seat to nurse my stinging hand and smarting knee.

The only saving grace was the fact that the other members of my own bowling team missed my free fall since they were too busy drinking beer and shuffling cards for poker. I wouldn’t have heard the end of it all night long. They’d have been talking about something totally unrelated like the weather or something and then would have said, “…yeah, it’s kind of like when Jane fell on her face up there on Lane 5!” And then they would have laughed and laughed.

Or maybe they wouldn’t have. It depends on how much they believe in karma and that nasty little thing called “payback.”

Besides, our team needs to stick together since we’re in last place. (How did that happen?) And the sad thing is, we’re bowling pretty well. We’re just bowling against opponents who are bowling even better.

Personally, I haven’t had such good bowling scores as I have had these past few weeks. I mean, after taking a dive on that first frame, I would have thought my “bowling concentration” would have been affected and I might have had a bad game. Not so. I bowled 151 that first game. My average is 134 and I somehow also bowled higher than my average the next two games.

Of course, this inevitably means that I should expect a week sometime in the not-too-distant future where I can’t manage a spare or a strike to save my tuchus. This will be a relief, actually. I am normally a 115 average bowler. My cute bowling shoes couldn’t possibly have made so much of a difference that I’m bowling 19 pins above my normal average. Or…could they? You can never discount the cuteness factor in bowling.

And, that too, my friends, is why bowling cannot be considered a “sport.” In real sports, shoes and clothing (and helmets and pads, etc.) are functional. When you get to wear hot pink-and-black bowling shoes that match your hot pink-and-black bowling shirt with the cute pink panther patch on the pocket, you should automatically disqualify bowling as a sport.

Well, in my opinion, anyway. I’m sure professional bowlers would beg to differ. But then, I’ve never seen a professional bowler wearing cute hot pink-and-black bowling shoes.

Meanwhile, I’ll be bowling again on Sunday. Let’s hope there are no repeat performances on the pratfalls. From me, anyway. Oh, and I will happily consider any strikes and/or spares as a bonus.

The Return of the Pin Panthers

So the other night we started our 2011 bowling season on the Columbus Ski Club bowling league and we wore our official “Pin Panther” embroidered hot pink and black bowling shirts. Plus, I got some new hot pink and black bowling shoes to match my shirt, so now I think I’m all stylin’ in the bowling alley.

I’m sure the guys on the team we bowled against, wearing their plain ol’ t-shirts and regular ol’ bowling shoes, were quaking in fear because our team looked all professional and stuff. But after our first gutter ball, I think they relaxed a little.

Except I did bowl a little too well for the first night of bowling where our averages and handicaps are established. Must’ve been the pre-bowling beer and wings or somethin’. Or maybe it was just the beer.

But, yeah, the first night of bowling on a league using handicaps is not a good night to start bowling above your average.

I can’t remember my scores to the exact pin (must’ve been the beer or somethin’), but they were something like 114, 130-something and 140-something.

Usually my average is only somewhere around 115.

What’s going to happen now is that I’ll spend the next several weeks trying to hit my above-average average…and it’ll be frustrating.

The cup half-full viewpoint would be that my new hot pink and black bowling shoes were the very thing that caused me to bowl so much better or that perhaps I raised my average appreciably by sheer skill and ability.

I tend to think, however, it was just beginner’s luck. “Beginner” meaning that I haven’t bowled since last April. Well, okay, so I did bowl one time over the summer, but that didn’t count because (a) it was on a Sunday morning rather than a Sunday evening, and (b) no beer was involved.

Or maybe it didn’t count because I didn’t yet have my new hot pink and black bowling shoes? Yeah, that’s probably it.

I’m going to think positively and assume that my new bowling shoes with their soft felt soles that allow the bowler to do that professional bowler’s “glide” thing…

…Okay, I just can’t pull it off. I have no flippin’ clue how to do that professional bowler’s “glide” thing. When I tried one time, I hurt my knee. So what I do is pretty much just walk up to the little center dot in my lane and chuck the ball toward the pins and hope for the best.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Sunday night it worked – unfortunately. So this means I’ll either have to drink massive quantities of beer every Sunday evening in hopes that it was, in fact, the beer that helped my bowling scores…or I’ll just have to do what I normally do the week after I’ve had a good night of bowling, which is to bowl three games with scores that don’t even crack the 100 mark.

Believe me, I’ve done it enough to know.

The first time I had a great night of bowling (on another league), I bowled 170 and 182. I was feeling all bowling proficient and figured that I finally “got it” and would be bowling strikes left and right from that point on. Yeah, sure. The next week I think I bowled an 82 and an 88. Can you say “inconsistent”?!

Ah well. Bowling great scores every week on a bowling league isn’t really the point. The beer is. Oops. I mean, the camaraderie with teammates and opponents alike is the point. Getting a chance to heft a 12 pound ball so that my right bicep gets at least a little bit of a workout is the point. And having a legitimate reason to wear a hot pink and black bowling shirt with matching bowling shoes (so that I rather resemble a box of Good N’ Plenty candy)…well that, my friends, is the point.

But the beer doesn’t hurt.

Another Day in the Life

Last night Vince and I subbed in the Columbus Ski Club Euchre league. He was subbing for an actual person while I was simply filling an empty chair – so the pressure wasn’t really on to perform well on someone’s behalf. So I took chances whereas before – when I’d been a regular in the league – I might have played a little more conservatively.

Now I’d love to report that I had multitudes of loaners netting us 4 points at a time and that my final score was a 65 (which would be a personal best). Alas, I’m sorry to say that I got euchred several times and my final score was a less-than-mediocre 32. (For all you non-Euchre-league players, a score of 40 is more or less the norm.)

Sigh. I guess taking risks and chances doesn’t always work out so well, does it?

Oh well, it was just a game. And I don’t think my score gets recorded anywhere – so maybe if I play again as a sub filling an empty chair, I can play as “Anonymous.” Scores of 32 points might not be quite as embarrassing that way!

We got home late, though – at least an hour and a half after Vince’s new bedtime, so he probably had a tough time getting up at 4:15 this morning. Poor guy.

I wasn’t quite as chipper this morning as I would’ve liked either. But I take comfort in the fact that it’s Friday. Thank God.

When I went downstairs to get my coffee, I poured it into a ceramic cup to warm it up in the microwave. A few days ago I’d missed the curved lip of the glass in the microwave, and spilled half the cup inside the microwave. So I’d mopped and cursed and cursed and mopped – and only got about half of a half of a cup of coffee to fortify me for the day ahead.

This morning, I nearly had the same accident as I slid the mug of coffee inside the microwave. At the last possible second, I managed to hang onto the cup when it bumped against the lip of the glass turner. I righted it – and heaved a sigh of relief at having averted another spill.

The microwave did it’s heating and spinning thing and then beeped to let me know my warm liquid caffeine was ready for ingestion. Yay.

So, I opened the door and started to pull out the mug – and bumped the lip of the glass on the way out, so my coffee spilled all over the kitchen counter. Every last drop of it. This time I did the cursing thing first – and then got out the paper towels and sponges and assorted other tools and implements to clean up my mess.

Clearly, I need to pour the coffee into a smaller mug. (Really, Jane – you think?) Except that since my coffee is a complicated mixed bag of coffee, soy milk and sugar-free flavoring, I’ll have to reconfigure the levels with a smaller mug. I’ve got it down to a science with the tall mug I’ve been using.

Or perhaps I should just be a little more diligent when using the microwave.

But anyway…

Because the coffee pot was empty and I didn’t have time to brew another pot, I had considered lapping up the spilled coffee off the counter like a dog – but only for a second. As it was T-minus-Zero and I absolutely had to leave the house that second to make it to work on time, I grabbed a cold can of Diet Dr. Pepper and took off.

When I get home tonight, I suspect the kitchen will still have the lingering smell of spilled coffee – so I’ll have to do a more thorough clean-up job. And, despite washing my hands at least four times, they still smell like coffee. Wonder if there is such a thing as second-hand caffeine and some has hit my bloodstream through my pores.

That’d be good. Because this can of Diet Dr. Pepper ain’t doin’ it for me.

TGIF, people, TGIF.