DMS

Wednesday night is league. For the uninitiated, that means I bowl on Wednesday nights, six -thirty, or there abouts. I say that because we rarely start on time. So when someone says, “I can’t do it on Wednesday night, I have league,” you know what they’re talking about, if you didn’t already know.

League, for me, translates into an excuse to drink. Jack and Coke. Five fifty a pop, plus tip, at the bowling alley bar. Julio, the bartender, knows me and has the drink ready for me when I walk up. Kind of a Cheers-like thing. Tall glass. Slice of lime. Double, if I don’t care how I’m going to bowl, which usually means a double. I pretend to care how I’m bowling during the game, but I don’t think anyone really buys into it. I get unduly pissed about missing a seven-pin pick up, but, in fact, more pissed that all the pins didn’t go down in the first place.

“That ball was right in the pocket, for chrissakes! I can’t buy a strike tonight!” And, frankly, I would buy a strike if they sold them. It would make the whole thing a lot easier, but as you can see, I talk a good game.

And, yes, I drive home under the influence, DUI, but I don’t drive while intoxicated DWI. They should never have changed that.

A reduction in the number of Jack and Cokes (It’s really Pepsi at the bowling alley bar.) might improve this missing right in the pocket, but probably not. Probably not, because the ball really wasn’t “in the pocket” in the first place. A pocket strike, as published by the USBC, occurs at board 17 to 18 with an entry angle between 4 to 6 degrees. That would be a 4 to 6 degree angle to the right of the head pin at the correct speed and revolution of the ball. You can imagine that I have probably missed one or more of these necessary components in my missed pocket strike.

The team is made up of myself, my wife, a friend, and his wife. The friend is Denny and his wife of one-year, is Mia. Our team name is DMS. We went a whole year not telling anyone what it meant, which was an inside joke. There were a lot of guesses. DMS stands for Doesn’t Mean Shit, and, believe me, most especially in league bowling, it doesn’t.

All these macho bowlers in a “fun” league throwing 232s so they can get their names on the leader board every week, don’t get it. That 232, being on the leader board, being in first place, bringing in a ringer at the last hour, doesn’t mean shit. Actually that part about bringing in a ringer generally matters because it really pisses me off. When you roll a 232, a team member will go over to the front desk and they’ll announce your accomplishment like this:

“Congratulations to Joe Blow on lane 12 who just bowled a fabulous 232!”

Sometimes there will be some applause, mostly from his or her own teammates, and then we bowl on. If anyone on our team bowled a 232 we probably wouldn’t bother going over to the front desk to have it announced. We’d go over to the bar instead to have a smoke and get another drink. The reason: it doesn’t mean shit.

Though somehow, the combination of booze, missing the seven pin several frames in a row, and the asshole on lane 10, suddenly made the “shit” matter. And the shit started when the asshole on lane 10 said, “Guess you can’t get them all, huh?” when I missed the seven pin for the fourth open frame in a row. He said it in a relatively innocent manner. Lane 10 was sitting at five strikes in row at the time. Known in the parlance as a “five-bagger,” going for a “six-pack” if he gets the strike in the next frame. I’m sure you care.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” It came out of my mouth before the mental censors could use common sense and close off the vocal chords. Comments like that can escalate in league pretty darn quick.

To Be Continued…….