Author: internetbowlingpersonality

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, July, 2018

Recently, the incomparable Aaron Smith, who spends a significant amount of his life living in strange cities for the benefit of the thousands of people who bowl the USBC Open Championships every year, posted a photo to Instagram of a bowling ball in a trash can at the Oncenter in Syracuse, this year’s strange city.

Presumably, someone didn’t bowl well, blamed the ball, and left it in the garbage. Aaron (he’s letting me call him Aaron for the purposes of this column he doesn’t know I’m writing) captured this particular moment, but we all know it’s just one of many moments like it. Discarding equipment—often in hilarious ways—is a large part of bowling’s storied history.

A ball in the trash is relatively tame. Bowling equipment has been chucked in large bodies of water, heaved off buildings, kicked into oblivion with disdain, sawed into pieces and rendered utterly useless in any number of other drastic and elaborate ways.

When these things happen (if you’re not the one doing them), the first instinct is to feel sympathy for the ball. Why is it being so unceremoniously cast aside? Being an inanimate object, it certainly didn’t maliciously decide to change its axis tilt or fabricate friction where there wasn’t any. It simply rolled where and as the bowler rolled it. How can it be the ball’s fault?

That should be the end of the argument, as it is absolutely correct with no fallacies.

However, taking that side of the debate implies a bad performance is the player’s fault rather than the ball’s fault, which is a direct contradiction of where we place the credit when a player performs well.

When someone wins a tournament, the first question asked of that person is, invariably, “What ball did you throw?”

Never mind the fact we don’t like the word “throw” when we should be saying “roll,” except in the case of this very specific question that applies directly to the object being propelled.

What we almost never consider is this: the answer to that question is often the same for the champion as it is for the red leader. The person who won used the same ball as the person who was 14,000,000 pins behind. So how can the ball possibly get all the credit for one person’s win and avoid all the blame for the other guy’s loss? And what about the dozens of people who also used that ball and finished between first and last?

Either the ball needs all the credit and all the blame, or none of the credit and none of the blame.

We need to be careful, though, because evidence like this implies that skill, experience, perseverance and execution factor in to who defeats whom in a bowling tournament; that one person might be better at bowling than another.

It is entirely possible the trashed ball wasn’t working as the bowler hoped. Maybe it wasn’t clean through the heads, failed to pick up in the midlane and didn’t hit at all in the back end. Maybe it didn’t want to get off the hand smoothly, creating inconsistency and reliability. Maybe it simply didn’t match up well.

Those are all legitimate possibilities, but the best players figure out what isn’t working and do something to change it. And, since this awful ball might be the perfect ball in a different bowling center on a different oil pattern next week, wouldn’t it make more sense to put the ball back in one’s bag rather than send it to the dump? Maybe. Or, maybe there is some validity to throwing (rolling?) a ball in the rubbish. If such an act brings any sort of calm to a bowler, his mental state conceivably improves, at which point he can roll his next ball with more precision. That, or his next ball will meet a far nastier fate than the one now smothered in nacho cheese.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, June, 2018

Bruce just opened in the ninth, leaving a 204 on the board, giving him a maximum of 234 if he strikes out in the 10^th.

His opponent, Karl, has 168 in the seventh with a spare in the eighth. Karl strikes in the ninth, giving him a maximum of 248, a pace of 238 and a current score of 198.

“That one’s over,” says someone. Could be an announcer, a fan, a ball rep, another player, anyone in the building who knows how to keep score. And, in most cases, yes, it’s effectively over as the two bowlers will probably finish their games in such a way that Karl wins.

But if we have to use phrases like “in most cases” and “probably,” how can it be over?

It’s not over. Karl can gutter twice in the 10^th for 198, allowing Bruce to win on the bench. Karl can double, then go through the face for a five count, giving Bruce a chance to strike out and win.

Or, in an even more absurd scenario, Karl can leave—and whiff—a 10-pin, giving him a final score of 216, and then the person who originally said “It’s over” in Karl’s favor can say the same for Bruce, which is also completely false as Bruce still needs a mark. Even in saying he needs a mark, we’re not fully accurate, as Bruce actually needs the mark plus three additional pins (two to tie).

Bowling rules dictate a match isn’t over until each player has bowled 10 complete frames, but bowling scoring is such that the winner can be unequivocally decided prior to the completion of those frames. The problem is too many people declaring winners before the outcome is actually certain. Until the score of one player is completely out of reach of the score of the other, no one in the building should be declaring anything over.

Perhaps this personal pet peeve appears petty, with the only possible harm coming from someone being wrong, but others can be affected by this as well.

False claims of matches being over hurt fans, who may be watching a particular match until they hear someone they perceive to be an expert say it’s over. The fans leave to go watch a different match, assuming the result of the prior match was already decided, and then later are confused when they find out the perceived winner actually lost. And, in the case of an unexpected finish like that, it was almost certainly more compelling than wherever the fans went, cheating them out of quality entertainment.

It can hurt players, either in the match or whose standing in the tournament may be impacted by the match. If a player is behind and assumes it’s over when it really isn’t, will he be as motivated to trust the process and take it one shot at a time for his last frame or two? If a player is ahead and assumes victory, can he lapse and make the immense blunder everyone has already assumed he won’t make?

It can hurt directors and producers for broadcasts and webcasts, who rely on their analysts to discuss scores. Generally, when a match is over, a director will strike it from his mind and focus on the matches still being decided. If an analyst makes the wrong call on something being over and the director trusts the analyst, then the fans at home end up missing the end of a match that was still meaningful.

The only time anyone should proclaim a match is over is when one player’s current score, assuming gutter balls for every remaining shot, is higher than the opponent’s maximum possible score from that point in the game.

By the way, Karl struck out in the 10^th and shut out Bruce. It was over after all.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, May, 2018

There are only a few standby locations for company parties: (1) the office itself, after hours, during which employees awkwardly gravitate toward their own desks, never feeling comfortable as they sip spiked punch in their cubicles with a doubly worrisome confusion of either working at night or drinking during the day, neither of which are actually happening; (2) a restaurant, during which employees wish they were out with their families instead of their bosses; (3) a boss’s house, during which employees resent having to be nice to the boss’s screeching kids, who are a part of the shindig for some reason; (4) a bowling center, where everyone has to participate in an activity at which they’re not good, but at least it’s during business hours.

There aren’t many locations in the world that require specific footwear, let alone require it to those who don’t possess their own. Ski resorts require boots and skis, skating rinks require skates and shoe advertisements require models to wear the shoes being advertised, but none of those activities are as prominent to society as rental shoes in a bowling center.

If you walk onto a ski slope with your own boots and skis, you’re in the majority. When you step onto the ice in your own skates, you’re in the majority (and, if you’re a teen, you’re likely on a date, laughing at your never-skated-before ladyfriend because that’s what you think courting is, not yet figuring out you’ve yet to achieve a second date with anyone). When you walk into a bowling center during open play with your own shoes, all eyes turn to you.

It’s a safe assumption anyone reading this publication possesses his or her own bowling shoes. We’re the people who walk into the company bowling party with a 48-ball roller and handheld shoes, immediately intimidating everyone else, especially the two guys in accounting fighting over the last pair of size-10 rentals.

Then, the pressure is on to actually perform up to our aura. These people expect us to strike every time, and that’s the burden we put on ourselves, even if the real truth is all we have to do is hook the ball a little and everyone will think we’re pros, no matter what our score.

To us, though, the score is paramount. This is our chance to be Guy Who Bowled 250 around the office for the rest of time, which is way better than our existing moniker of Guy Who Stole Cheryl’s Cheerios Twice.

If we’re not striking, we have to mitigate the situation. We must corner someone—preferably the office gossip leader—and explain how the lanes haven’t been oiled in weeks (with an inevitable explanation of lane oil and that yes, it does exist), and even a plastic ball is hooking off the lane (throwing in a meticulously detailed sidebar on cover-stock composition, of course), and if only we’d brought our 50-ball roller, we’d have the extra two we needed to combat these abhorrent conditions.

To further make our point, we have to explain our strategy for the rest of the party. Since we only have 48 rocks from which to choose, we’re going to have to ball down, move left, increase our speed and try to keep the ball right enough long enough to hit the appropriate breakpoint, then hope we carry, which is no guarantee because there’s something off about these pins.

No one will understand, especially as they watch Ted from IT alternate between incompetently dropping the ball three feet short of the foul line and inadvertently launching the ball 20 feet through the air, striking every time.

Ted becomes Guy Who Bowled 250, and we become Guy Who Has His Own Shoes But Isn’t as Good as Ted. The next day, we quit our jobs, throw our bowling equipment in the river and move to Switzerland to take up skiing.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, April, 2018

One of the most important homonyms (or homographs, if you want to get extra picky) in bowling is “approach.” It can refer to the actual area in front of the foul line on which bowlers stand prior to rolling their shots, as in, “This squad is three hours behind schedule because everybody is standing on the approach yielding to no one.” Or, it can refer to a bowler’s stride toward the foul line, such as, “Finally, someone took it upon himself to make his approach and get this squad moving again.”

With all that out of the way, let’s approach the issue of humidity affecting the approach to the point it hinders a bowler’s approach.

Invariably, when the weather is particularly nasty outside a bowling tournament, someone will proclaim it as “Great bowling weather.” This is a good statement in that it allows strangers to have a friendly, albeit substance-free, exchange. Even if it only raises their spirits a tiny bit, it’s worth it, as the world needs more friendly moments.

However, taken literally, “Great bowling weather” (and its similar safe supply, “I’m glad bowling is an indoor sport”) implies the game is immune from the elements. Weather does whatever it wants, but while that may impact golf or baseball, bowling is unaffected.

Not true, obviously. What happens outside drastically influences what happens inside. And, when we say “inside,” we not only mean inside the bowling center, but also inside the bowlers’ heads.

A Tacky Approach

Synthetic approaches, with their small, shallow pores, can’t absorb much of anything, which is why you shouldn’t bowl during the day in August when don’t-even-know-what-a-positive-axis-point-is-but-still-fun-loving kids are spilling their soda and candy all over the place. When it rained the night before, or is raining right now, or might rain within a day or two, humidity collects on top of the approach, making it stickier than usual.

In this case, don’t be surprised to see a lot of practice slides (one of the greatly underrated aspects of the sport) stop short. If you’re a bowler, make sure you have your slickest sole pads ready.

A Slick Approach

Has it been remarkably dry? Cold? The opposite will happen. The same way you constantly need to add and remove thumb tape based on how the weather and other conditions affect the size of your thumb, you need to change your approach to your approach on the approach based on what the weather is doing to the slipperiness of the approach, the redundancy of which, I hope, is beyond reproach.

In this case, you may want to wear rubber-soled athletic shoes to prevent yourself from hilariously gliding onto the lane. Obviously, that is an exaggeration, as you should always wear bowling shoes when bowling, unless of course you’re participating in a televised celebrity exhibition.

A Paranoid Approach

We can look at forecasts, but we can’t be certain about the weather until it’s actually happening. We can look at previous lane analysis, topographical maps and oil-pattern graphs, but we can’t be certain about the lane conditions until we actually roll a ball.

The only thing about which a bowler can be certain is the weather outside will change the conditions inside to the advantage of every single person in the building except him. He will be at a distinct disadvantage and face insurmountable odds. Everyone else will have everything exactly as they like it, meaning all they have to do is show up and they’ll make the cut.

When he makes the cut, though, it’s because he overcame all obstacles, battled an unfriendly approach, navigated an oddly changing oil pattern and pured every single shot. Then, the weather changes again overnight, to the advantage of everyone but him, and he finishes 20th.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, March, 2018

During any random day in any random bowling center at a very specific time (that being during open bowling), sociology enthusiasts can bear witness to the ridiculous resentment between two types of bowlers: those who take it seriously and those who don’t.

Or, rephrased from each opposing side, those who take it too seriously and those who don’t respect the game.

Because it’s open bowling, all levels of skill and passion are welcome. Tiny children rolling bowling balls down those weird dinosaur ramps and then running back to their parents without any care for the pinfall, having accomplished their goal of rolling the ball down the dinosaur’s back, can be placed right next to a highly competitive five-person team tuning up for their annual USBC Open trip.

Teens trying to impress their friends with how fast they can hurl a 6-pound ball down the lane can find themselves adjacent to a pro who rolls a 16-pound ball 20 miles per hour with 600 revolutions on it, which is objectively far more impressive.

One group is there to have fun while the other is there to get better. That’s not to say the fun group can’t accidentally get better or the serious group can’t accidentally have fun, but those are not their respective primary objectives.

Because of that, the groups resent each other.

While the serious group practices and attempts to work on a certain aspect of the game, they generally don’t want a hoard of screaming college kids to the right, rolling several balls simultaneously, at least two of which hit the rack, leading to one of the kids nonchalantly walking down to get the ball and collapsing on his face, lying there in hyperbolic laughter until an employee has to forcibly rectify the situation. While there is a bit of schadenfreude in it for the serious bowlers in the knowledge that kid will likely have elbow problems the rest of his life, it’s still not ideal.

Likewise, the screaming college kids don’t want some guy who isn’t even keeping score nearby, as the kids’ inherent decorum might force a twinge of necessity to not be as big of a spectacle as they’d like to be, thereby limiting their fun.

Even if that twinge exists, the guy practicing doesn’t perceive it, thereby loathing the lack of respect shown by the fun lovers.

Of course, proprietors want them all (assuming the fun group isn’t destructive). Everyone pays the same, although the serious players are more likely to have access to a discounted rate, and bowling-center staff will do their best to keep these groups separate, if open lanes allow it, as it maximizes the experiences for both groups.

Since most readers of this publication fall into the serious group, we can get introspective here. Some of us are completely immune to all of it, maybe even thriving off the distractions as an attempt to hone focus.

Others expect four-year-old birthday celebrants to have a deep understanding of one-pair courtesy and how last night’s rain will impact their pushaways.

Most of us fall between those extremes, possessing a ranking scale, even if subconscious, of what is tolerable and what isn’t. Perhaps a family bowling together and having fun is unobjectionable, but it becomes irksome when they begin rolling the ball between each other’s legs. Maybe it takes a little more to irritate you, such as a foul-line photo shoot, with teenagers loitering endlessly on the approach. Possibly, you need to witness blatant disrespect or obliteration of equipment to be annoyed.

The only thing of which we can be certain is that all the while, those fun-loving friends wish they could stay ahead of the moves like us. Their envy is more powerful than any of our irascibilities, and that is why practice is fun.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, February, 2018

I have the privilege of spending a lot of time around the best bowlers in the known universe, getting an extremely close look at what it takes to compete at the highest level. We can all marvel at their bowling skills—even though we could be that good too if we only had free equipment to use on fair lane conditions in a humidity-controlled environment—but this month, let’s delve into some of the lesser-known skills at which these athletes excel.

Handshakes

Almost without exception, bowlers have extremely strong handshakes. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, as it takes a strong hand to repeatedly hurl 15-pound objects. That’s not all there is to it, though, as lefties also share the strong-handshake ability. It could be as simple as a sturdy handshake being an important thing in real life, and bowlers as a whole understanding that. Or, it could be yet another way for them to compete with each other.

More than merely wielding strong handshakes, bowlers are particularly proud of that fact. Because of that, I’m not going to name even one of the best, because if I do, several other contenders will take offense, fool me into shaking their hands, then not release their grips until I either concede they are the strongest or until they crush my hand, whichever comes second.

Lack of Hand Vanity

Writing of hands, bowlers will mutilate theirs beyond belief to win a tournament. The downside to the ever-important “more games” is the absurd beating a bowler’s hand takes from constantly propelling a ball down the lane. Cuts, scratches, rips, gaping wounds—who cares? Put some tape on it and keep playing.

“I was a manicurist for 40 years,” says a fictional person who may as well be real. “I quit the moment a bowler walked in.”

For a bowler, winning the tournament is always prioritized over prehensile beauty.

Superstition Escalation

Bowlers, like many athletes, are prone to being superstitious, but what’s become even more impressive is the escalation of those superstitions. For instance, a particular bowler had a superstition that required him to sit in the same seat between shots when he was bowling well. When he stopped bowling well, he had to change seats.

One day, he was struggling, so he changed seats, then immediately rolled his best shot of the game. His original superstition called for him to remain in the new seat. However, another thought crept into his head: maybe it’s not the actual seat, but the fact I changed seats.

The bowler was then trapped in preposterousness as he tried to determine whether or not he should change seats again before his next shot, which meant he wasn’t thinking about what he should be doing on the approach. He did not strike on his next shot.

Projecting Hypothetical Math

One of the best places to be at a bowling tournament is near the scoreboards when a cut is about to be made. As many people as possible—ball reps, players who have finished, fans—crowd around the scoreboard, shouting numbers at each other.

Every sentence begins with, “If,” because what one guy does in the 10^th frame only matters if what a different guy did in the ninth frame was one of three things, dependent on whether a third guy converted a split in the eighth, all factored against any potential ties from an earlier squad. And, because everyone processes math a little differently (and most do so out loud), people often think they’re disagreeing with each other when they’re actually saying the same thing amid the incomprehensible rabble.

In the end, everybody’s right. The end, of course, is when the official scores are posted. At that point, everyone can claim to have known all along. No one can be refuted, because blame is easy to place. “Oh, I got bad info on that guy,” or, “I couldn’t see Rash was shooting a perfect game 90 lanes from here.”

Then, the crowd moves from the scoreboards to a neutral pair of lanes for the inevitable rolloff.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, January, 2018

In the second annual The One Board year-start countup, we prognosticate 18 bowling-related events that will make 2018 a year worth living. At the end of the year, we’ll look back on these items and be shocked at the realization three of them actually came true.

1. Jason Belmonte wins the PBA Tournament of Champions, trying him with Earl Anthony and Pete Weber for most career major titles with 10.
2. Scores of media show up for the Players Championship to witness record-breaking history, but Belmonte finishes third. That’s okay, because everyone knows he will win the USBC Masters in April, so the media all turn up to that as well for another chance at history.
3. Some guy no one has ever heard of wins the Masters. He takes his trophy back to the remote wilderness of the Northwest Territories and is never seen again.
4. Las Vegas sets the over/under at nine seconds on how long it will take someone to mention Chris Barnes’ thriftiness during the Hall of Fame ceremony. No one takes the under and Las Vegas goes out of business.
5. The hottest song of the summer is “Pin Placement” by Positive Axis Point, a new pop trio hailing from Ecuador, Kenya and Indonesia.
6. EJ Tackett wins every single Xtra Frame Tour event over the summer and his second consecutive Storm Cup. The Player of the Year race comes down to Tackett and that guy who wins the Masters. Tackett wins.
7. Jesper Svensson’s first right-arm tattoo is an actual-size depiction of a piece of kinesiology tape. After whichever brand he tattoos doesn’t renew their product-registration agreement, Svensson ironically has to tape over his tape tattoo whenever he makes a show. He makes every show.
8. As World Bowling scoring catches on in bowling, so does traditional bowling scoring in other sports. Baseball teams that score runs in the first inning now have to wait to see how they do in the second and third innings to determine exactly what their first inning was worth.
9. For the 60^th consecutive year, an immeasurable number of people are referred to as great guys.
10. Someone definitively proves how something being too easy is a legitimate excuse for failure.
11. Several intra-bowling romantic relationships struggle because of trust issues. It’s not because the bowlers can’t trust each other, but rather because they can’t trust anything or anyone more than they trust “the process.”
12. Someone designs a tournament that is simultaneously a carry contest and a grind, a marathon and a sprint, a leftyfest and a lefties-locked-outfest, match play and no match play, a simple and convoluted format, and does so while maintaining integrity. No one complains.
13. Albuquerque emerges as the new live-streaming hotbed. Not sure where they get their equipment.
14. “Some guy named (insert undeniably legendary bowler’s name here)” finally becomes cute. Then immediately stops being cute again.
15. In October, during an important MLB playoff game, the baseball players rush to the locker room between at-bats to check in on C-squad qualifying scores from the U.S. Open.
16. Belmonte wins the U.S. Open, breaking the record for most majors and collecting the one major he hasn’t yet won, joining Mike Aulby as the only two players to have won all five. The media, still smarting over two failed attempts earlier in the year, don’t attend and no one hears about it.
17. Lamenting the lack of media attention, the PBA retroactively credits Don Carter with major championships for his World Invitational titles, tying him with Belmonte at 11. This gives Belmonte a chance to break the all-time record, again, at the PBA World Championship. Throngs of media show up. Instead of winning his 12^th, Belmonte finishes 12^th.
18. Pete Weber wins the World Championship at age 56, giving him 11 major titles and creating a three-way tie for the record. The PBA statistician quits and moves deeper into the woods than that guy who wins the Masters.

This installment of The One Board originally appeared in Bowlers Journal International, December, 2017

If you’ve ever been able to force yourself to watch a movie or TV show even though they’re not aired live, and if the production involved bowling, you may have noticed a disproportionate number of the strikes shown are Brooklyns. The characters on screen react as if they’ve thrown great shots, but you’re at home ridiculing the idiot for cheering a Brooklyn, because as we all know, some strikes are better than others, even if they all count the same (unless it’s a fill ball, of course).

Have you ever wondered why there are so few quality strikes in fictional works? Is it because actors aren’t as good as real bowlers (they aren’t, but that’s not why)? Is it because producers and directors don’t care about real bowlers (mostly but not completely true, but that’s also not why)? Is it because directors and editors think a Brooklyn shot is more aesthetically pleasing (I hope not)? Today, we expose Hollywood’s bowling secrets.

The actors aren’t really throwing the shots.

This is probably obvious, but necessary to clarify, as we in the bowling industry typically jump right into differential calculus without first teaching someone how to add. The movie predictably shows the actor making the approach and releasing the ball, then cuts to a shot of the ball hitting the pins, then cuts back to the actor reacting to whatever the scripted result is. The ball that hits the pins is usually thrown by a real bowler (or, in Internet Movie Database terminology, a stunt bowler, bowling consultant, bowling advisor or miscellaneous crew member).

So, while a non-bowling actor might be more likely to throw a Brooklyn strike than a true bowler, this is not the reason we see so many crossovers, because the actors aren’t actually rolling the shots.

Shouldn’t a real bowler be able to hit the pocket?

Unlike professional bowling tournaments, the stunt bowler does not get 368 minutes of practice before the actual event begins, so his first shot is a bit of a guess. Also, and this is more important: there is no oil on the lanes. Generally, this is a surprise to the stunt bowler.

A movie production involves a massive conglomerate of human beings and heavy equipment, all of which need to be able to move about the set. When the set is a bowling center, they need to strip the lanes of the oil to avoid several personal-injury lawsuits. When the stunt bowler rolls his best guess of a first shot, then hits no oil, the ball is going to pick up fairly early and striking on either side of the pocket is quite an impressive feat. Thankfully, the crew usually doesn’t know enough about bowling to scream “Joke!” as the stunt bowler lofts the ball 30 feet down the lane in order to find the pocket.

Generally, the director is a bowling novice and naïve enough to think a strike is a strike. So, when the stunt bowler crosses over for a Brooklyn, the director is ecstatic. He got the strike he needed and can move on to the next scene, saving a lot of money for his bosses. The unnecessarily embarrassed stunt bowler can protest all he wants, but the director doesn’t care.

In the captivating world of Hollywood, actors don’t throw the shots, a lack of oil means real bowlers have a more difficult time finding the pocket, the director takes the first strike he sees and calls it a day, and that is why we see so many Brooklyn strikes in movies and TV shows.

It’s not all bad, though. If you’re ever feeling down about the lack of good shots thrown on TV or in movies, skip to the final homonymous shot, both of the movie and on the lanes, of The Big Lebowski, and thank Barry Asher for packing the pocket.