Bowling

Is bowling still a thing?

Growing up, my parents got me out of the house, busying me with swimming, camping, and other activities. My siblings and I were all very active in sports. Bowling kind of came up around age 8 and lost its magic by the time age 12 rolled around.

I never considered bowling to be a sport, more like a competition.

Bowling was a cheap date, and if you knew someone (I always seemed to know someone) you could drink at some seriously reduced prices.

I was a very average bowler, if I had to quantify every cocaine-fueled, Canadian whiskey-driven late night round, I probably got up to a 190 average. To put this in perspective, with all my previous training and participating year-round in sports, all the weights I ever lifted, all the sacrifices I made, taking in my fierce hatred of losing, and my resolve to die trying, my average was 27 pins lower than the top ranked junior bowler through today, according to the United States Bowling Congress (USBC).

The bowler is Camryn Brown, an amateur girl (young woman, but still, she is all set to enter her senior year of high school, so with absolutely no offense intended, I call her a girl).

I wish her continued success.

I wish everyone continued success.

But Camryn, You go girl!

Keep on kicking ass.

If any of you scoffers do not believe me, try getting into a pickup basketball game with some players on the girls team.

They are technically sound, surprisingly strong, and they are good.

If they are “next” up on the court, watch out.

They can beat your ass.

Growing up in England, I loved “exploring” small towns and hamlets. I ambled through the green countryside, occasionally resting my head on the stones of an 800-year old wall.

Sometimes, my buddy and I would find our way through tiny, shaded lanes and serpentine passageways which would suddenly open into a grass bowling field and/or a beautifully-manicured grass tennis court These hidden gems never had any players we encountered.

I remember it being so quiet, you felt a sense of reverence and awe. The only thing I can compare it to is the feeling I get when I play a new golf course.

I hope I never lose that feeling because it is like taking away the feeling a kid gets when, after managing to awaken their parents from their egg-nog induced extended sleepy time, and racing downstairs to light the tree, well, just the eyes of excitement and anticipation.

Priceless stuff.

Having made several trips to several small towns, we were prepared with our tennis rackets and two balls each. My racket was a Pancho Gonzales wooden signature model. (what am I saying? They were ALL wooden rackets back then).

I had fallen in love with tennis after going to Wimbledon in the summer of 1967. I got to see Billie Jean King kick ass and Rod Laver was representing. I returned in 1969 for the Pancho Gonzales-Charlie Pasarell match.

 I am still tired from that one.

See how I go of on tangents when I get stoned?

For the record, Modified Banana Indica 28.5% THC.

Stay well.