(I won't spoil it, although the subhead of the story pretty much does, but it is an amazing story, and only somewhat about bowling. The quotes are from the story.)
"Most people think perfection in bowling is a 300 game, but it isn’t. Any reasonably good recreational bowler can get lucky one night and roll 12 consecutive strikes. If you count all the bowling alleys all over America, somebody somewhere bowls a 300 every night." ...
... "Timing is everything. When your timing is right, when your arms, legs, and torso all move in rhythm toward the lane, you have better balance. When you’re balanced, you’re also more accurate."On one night, I was almost that reasonably good recreational bowler.
From the time I first took up the game, I was capable of runs where I bowled brilliantly, dating back to the time I was a preteen and had a great series to help my team win a state Elks tournament. When I was in college, I went out for a night of open bowling with my friends in which I went strike, spare, spare, nine strikes in a row.
After a long time away from the game, I joined a Friday night league thanks to my uncle, who recruited my brother and I. My brother didn't last long, but I bowled in it for three years, until the league disbanded.
I actually wasn't a really good fit. With an average between 160 and 175, I was one of the better bowlers in the league, but it was a league that was more about having fun, and my competitiveness, and temper that often came along with it, made people uncomfortable at times. (That's on me, by the way, not them. They were all nice people, and I could have stood to chill out a bit more.)
On one otherwise unremarkable Friday night, I threw a strike in the first frame of the first game, then another, and another, until I had thrown nine in a row. Time and the tendency to exaggerate that comes with it may have affected my memory, but I don't even think there were any cheap ones in there. As I recall, I rolled the ball cleanly over the first arrow on the left side (I'm left-handed) and the ball took a perfect path to the 1-2 pocket to blow out all the pins.
Everything ... my approach, arm swing, release, follow-through ... was ... well, perfect.
The 10th ball came off my hand like it was going to be another pile-driver, but one lone pin refused to fall. I don't remember if it was a 7 or a 10 pin, but I'm inclined to think it was the 10 because I picked it up (7-pins always gave me trouble) before throwing one last strike for a 279.
Aside from the mild disappointment over not throwing a perfect game -- and really, how disappointed can you be? -- it felt pretty awesome.
"By contrast, if your timing is off, your balance is off, and you don’t hit your targets."After a few minutes between games, and a lot of high-fives, we started the second game, and I began with two more strikes.
Then something weird happened.
Pretty much anybody can bowl. To be a good once-a-week league bowler, which I was, is a little harder. Being a top league bowler is a lot harder. And being a pro bowler is really, really hard.
I bowled juniors with a guy who was a phenomenal bowler, whose father owned the bowling alley (and once had a nice run on the local televised bowling competition himself) and who was on the lanes constantly. As good as he was, when he made a run at the pro tour, he went nowhere.
At each step along the way, the difference is consistency, the ability to throw the ball the same way and make it do the same thing over and over. A lot of it is practice, which you can't get bowling once a week. For 12 frames, I had stumbled on the difference between the good bowler and the great one.
And in frame 13 it all fell apart. My mechanics failed me for the first time all night, so I missed the mark and didn't even hit the headpin. Weirder still was the cheering after my first poor shot of the night. Just by coincidence, that was the moment they announced my 279 to the rest of the lanes, so everyone was cheering.
It was nice. It was also my last good moment of the night.
For a guy like Bill Fong, an 800 is a really good night. For me, a 600 was. It mean averaging 200 over three games, and while I wasn't nearly consistent enough to throw three 200s, I did have several 600 series, mostly by bowling well two games and going out of my mind in the third.
Yet after a 279, a 600 should have been pretty easy. All I had to do was average 160 (actually 160.5) over the last two games, and my average was 170 or so, meaning two mediocre games would get me to 600.
But I couldn't even do that. My game fell completely apart. What was so easy for a game plus a little more became nearly impossible.
I have no idea where it came from, and I have no idea where it went. But while it was there, it was pretty amazing.
