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 10th 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.