All right, all right. Maybe I was a little brash with my comments of yesterday. I might have been a wee bit over the top when I compared the state of the game today to the undead roaming the globe in search of live human flesh. I possibly could have stretched the metaphor a tad.
That said, I am in no mood to think of another name for this blog. I have made my literary bed and will now sleep in it. Armed. With one eye open.
It is most likely that bowling's spirit, its fundamental spark, is indeed still "alive", that its heart still beats in the same manner as when Earl Anthony took in oxygen. Looking from my shop out onto the concourse last night I saw the ripples of that beat in the happy faces of the lousy bowlers league. This particular league is composed of one very extended family, many of whom have dove in head-first into the deep end of the pool - reactive balls, spare balls, lessons, and multiple days of practice per week. As an pro shop owner, they couldn't be better customers.
Along with that, however, I do sense the seeds of a virus that was (mostly) unheard of in Earl's time, but has flourished in the post-reactive ball explosion. That, of course, being the idea that the lanes are somehow unyielding to the ball-operator and his inherent genius, that to bowl well one must only swipe a valid credit card at the pro shop, that the score one makes should be result of merely showing up and buying a few things, rather than an amalgam of smart choices, concerted effort and accumulated skill.
My question is how did we get here? How did bowling evolve from recognized skill sport into (as far as I know) the only sport/recreational pastime that fosters, and even accepts as fact, the idea that conditions for play are not just difficult, but intolerable or flat out wrong, based on the score of its participants. Do golfers complain to the clubhouse when it is windy or wet? Do tennis players yell and scream about the grass, clay or concrete they compete on? (Well, maybe a little.) Do football players threaten to leave the field if it is deemed by them too hard or soft or slippery?
When did the concept of "player adjustment" die? And could we reanimate that?
Maybe it is not bowling itself that is dead, more like the rapidly-aging (and shrinking) mob of established league bowlers have turned to complainiac zombies lusting for the blood of the lane man. I see them every day peering through the pro shop window looking for the latest fix. Want to know how many of them ask for a lesson? Zero. They want to buy their way out of a lousy score or eat the head of whoever is manning the front desk.
I think I see the reanimated body of Bill Taylor shuffling towards us from the horizon, arms pointed forward, mouthing the words, "I told you so." And as much as I hate to agree with a zombie asshole, Bill, you might have a point. Now, where did I put my shotgun?
As always, there's an app for that...
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