Well, Bowl Me Over

Bowling is one of those sports that people forget is an actual sport. I think its heyday was back in the mid-60s or so, but since then it has retreated from Main street to (if you’ll pardon the expression) the side alley. I can’t recall the last time I saw a bowling alley advertising a “Grand Opening!” The bigger alleys might have some nice upgrades so you at least feel like it was built this millennium, but often a lot of the smaller places are just showing that preferred decor from the 1970s. Well, maybe the 80s, with a sprinkle of 2000s technology. I mean, I’m not sure if any alley has hand scoring anymore. Nowadays, you have to look to classic films like “The Big Lebowski” or “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” to capture that magic.

So, I was kind of looking forward to taking Grace to her friend’s birthday party that was being hosted at a nearby bowling alley. This past Saturday we showed up around 4 PM with both gift bags and high expectations of knocking things down with large polished spheres of plastic, urethane, and/or reactive resin.

The outside did not have a “Grand Opening!” sign and its overall modest size had me suspecting this was going to be the time-portal version. Sure enough, stepping inside, we had a strong theme of yesteryear, but to be frank, it was a lovely, if modest, place. I think they had maybe 30 lanes, at the most, but even so finding Grace’s friend’s party was a bit tricky because there were multiple birthday parties there. …Maybe bowling is making a comeback with the 6-12 year-old demographic?

There was a small counter for food orders (which was closed aside from serving the birthday parties), a bar (that was also closed), and a small arcade with a sign prominently stating that management was NOT responsible for any money lost on the machines.

Off to a great start!

Oh, and on a side note, have you ever noticed how bowling alleys never seem to have windows so you can see what goes on inside? I feel like there is something profound that bowling alleys share this trait with other highly-specific establishments of high caliber entertainment like casinos and strip clubs, but words fail me.

Gracie went up and got her shoes; we started with size 4, but bowling shoe sizes tend to be more recommendations than actual proper sizes, and are about as flexible as a pair of wooden Dutch clogs. She tried a size 5, but even that didn’t work. The lady at the counter (who I think was the manager, clerk, waiter, and hostess) came back with another pair that I think was still a size 5, but this time at least had some more flexibility, so Gracie was able to get them to fit.

And at last! The party was ready to rock and…. (say it with me) roll!

You know? Roll? Like a bowling ball? Cripes, nevermind.

Anyway, as I sat and watched the kids gleefully throw around heavy balls, sometimes even down the proper lane, I thought back to my own history with the legacy sport.

The last time I had been to a bowling alley was, fittingly, at a birthday party for one of Gracie’s friends. I didn’t bowl with them, alas, which was a shame because I totally could have smoked those 5-year-olds, especially with the bumpers up. Then again, the kids at the time were using those ramps to roll the ball down, so they probably had better aim than me.

As for the last time that I actually bowled a game? Cripes, I think that goes back to maybe over a decade ago, back when May and I were first dating. One of our dates was at a bowling alley because, I mean, there is nothing more romantic than a quiet setting, and a bowling alley is so quiet… you can hear a pin drop! Har har har har!

…Okay, sorry. Couldn’t resist.

Anyway! Grace and the kids are still at that age where bowling is really all about the joy of throwing the ball down the lane and seeing it hit something or just vanish as it is swallowed by the void of emptiness beyond. Sure, they know the general concept is to knock down as many pins as you can, but beyond that they really aren’t worried about the difference between strikes and spares. They just like rolling the balls down the lane and then dancing regardless if they hit anything.

The funny thing was, watching them, I actually felt like my family should all go bowling again sometime. See, despite the sport losing mainstream swagger, I was part of that crowd growing up. I can still recall standing at the dots at Buckeye Lanes (gadzooks but I cannot believe that I remember the name of that place), lining up my shot, all while the opening theme to Rambo II played in my head. Because I was, you know, soooo cool.

I would go on to take part in the Disneyland bowling group, where I stunned everyone with my ability to be on the team that hit last place 3 seasons running. The upside was that we got complimentary “Crying Towels” each time, and hey, those worked as dish towels for years afterwards.

Perhaps the highlight of my Disneyland star run was with the whole group in a tournament in Las Vegas, where, strictly by chance (fitting for Vegas, I know) I had a number of family members on there on vacation, so they were able to sit back and enjoy the endless entertainment of watching me trying to crack a score of 100.

And now my daughter was taking part in this fine tradition!

She and her friends had graduated from the rolling rack delivery system, and now were gleefully swinging the ball back and forth like a pendulum, giving it the classic 1-2-3-go approach that delighted them and terrified me as I kept waiting for them to lose their grip on the backswing and send the bowling ball flying back into my face.

But all was well. They always released the ball in the correct direction, and thanks to the gutter bumpers raised, they were chalking up some respectable scores in the 80s and 90s. Or at least, they were trending towards that. They ran out of time to finish the game before dinner was served; they got to the tenth frame but were too busy playing and dancing, but still, they clearly were having a blast.

Dinner was the classic hearty bowling alley delicacy of french fries, hot dogs, and pepperoni pizza. When that was done, the kids closed out the party by pretending to play the games in the game room and, uh, lying down on the Skee-Ball machine.

Because, well, why not?

As we left, I asked Gracie if she wanted to try going again with me and Momma and she was like, “Sure!” And hey, we did get a free game at the bowling alley as part of our party favors, so now I just need to set it all up like a rack of pins.

All of this reminded me of one of my should-have-been-famous poems:

1 Pin Alley

The lone pin

Mocks me