Week Two

It was on an otherwise ordinary day in 1907 that Jim Thorpe, dirt poor, 19 and wearing street clothes, walked by the track at Carlisle Indian Industrial School and decided to take a leap. His long jump of 5 feet, 9 inches, crushed the other kids on the team and started him on a career that led to the Olympics and the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Almost exactly 103 years later, Amy Hoff, driving a mini van and sporting a blue sweater, arrived at lane 43. To those close enough to hear, she claimed to have a bowling bag at home, but no ball. The shoes, we could all see, were strictly rental. But as soon as play started, we realized we had been had. The Hoff's right hand began to glow. Within a frame, she was some approximation of Pete Weber, Earl Anthony, and Walter Ray Williams, Jr. *

Rolling an 8-pound, purple ball of fury, The Hoff turned in a remarkably consistent 143, 149, 141. She feigned surprise at the first strike, though by the end of that game, there were whispers of a potential alley-hustler in the house. We at the Third Rail Bowling Club remained unconcerned.

Our handicap enabled us to do something remarkable and patently unfair: Bowl much worse than the other team and kick their collective ass.

The numbers:

Geoff “Edge” Edgers: 135, 106, 114.

Amy “The Hoff” Hoff: 143, 149, 141.

David “Varsity” Padrusch: 124, 117, 128.

Mary  “Flo” Hull: 76, 80, 114.

Percentage of onion rings actually in ring form: 32.

Rounds of beer: 2.

Third Rail’s game total of 1,427 would seem to pale next to the 2,628 points scored by the Big Bawlers, but we were told (we don’t do math on Sundays, we let the other team) that we had won games 1 and 3 and the overall points due to our handicap.

Cool.

What did we learn?

The Hoff is our ringer.

Varsity has the best form on the alley. Even when he’s throwing down a gutter-ball, he looks like Fred Astaire.

Flo works better when Varsity is in the men’s room or hiding behind a post, though this can be disturbing to the rest of us.

Edge needs to balance his anger with a Zenlike calm. (Advice came from Big Bawler Didi.)

Oh, and that those of us who don’t run around high-fiving other humans – or haven’t high-fived anyone in at least 23 years – can actually get a high-five muscle weariness. Really. Frat boys must get exhausted.

*Bowlers I’ve never heard of but was able to find by googling “most famous bowlers.”