Bowling in Ithaca

    

Cross Bay Lanes in Howard Beach, NY
(photo by Bill Aiello)

    I never excelled at organized sports as a kid. The one and only year I played in little league baseball I was terrible. I reached base just one time. I don’t think it was even a hit, I think I reached first base due to a fielding error. My younger brother was the athlete in the family. He excelled in baseball, football and basketball. He won all kinds of accolades and trophies. What I really did most of the time during those preteen and early teen years was watch a lot of television. When I was 15 my best friend Larry suggested we should join the bowling league. For some reason I agreed to this so we joined the Starrett City Youth Association bowling team.
    You don’t really have to be athletic to be a bowler, not like most sports. Sometimes I question whether bowling is really a sport. Jim Gaffigan says, “You got to love a sport you can eat while you play it.” Of course you’ve got to have skills, you’ve got to have that good follow through and be able to get that spin on the ball to hit that perfect spot between the front 1 pin and 3 pin to get a strike. I guess it would be the 1 and 2 pin if you're a lefty. And you’ve really got to have the skills to get that impossible 7-10 split. You also have to have focus and concentration, like if it’s the last frame and you must bowl a strike or you'll lose the game. I didn’t think about any of this then. To me it was just something to do on Saturday morning. Larry and I ended up being on the same team along with two girls whom we knew from school over the years. Each Saturday we would all meet at Cross Bay Lanes(now a gym) in Howard Beach, N.Y. We were not really a good bowling team, not the worst but definitely below average. Some weeks I’d bowl well, other weeks it was just freakin’ gutter balls. There were times though when I did try to use some bowling techniques that I saw my fellow bowlers use and sometimes I would try and heed advice that was offered. But I never really practiced. The only time I would bowl was during those Saturday mornings and maybe we might get a practice game in before the start of league play. I remember one kid in the senior division, who would swing his arm all the back, pretty high up and then swing his arm forward so fast that the ball would just fly down that alley with such incredible force that I almost thought the pins would smash to pieces upon contact. He had his own bowling ball too. Not many of us had our own ball so we had to rely on what the bowling alley had to offer. There was always an issue finding a bowling ball that was perfect for you, like maybe you’ve found the right weight but the holes were too small or too big. Eventually I found the perfect ball for me. It was a black with this sort of green marble swirl pattern. The problem however was that there was no guarantee I would be able to use it every week. After all, it was first come first serve on the bowling balls. When we finished our games every Saturday, I would try and hide the ball as best I could by putting it in the most out of the way rack I could find. Sometimes I couldn’t find it when I arrived at the alley on Saturday mornings. I wonder if someone else in the league also valued this ball as much as I did and tried to hide it for themselves as well. Ultimately what those Saturdays really ended up being about for Larry and myself was cherry sprite, cheese fries and pinball; things we would take part in at the bowling alley either before or after the games. This is how it was throughout the season until tournament time in April.
    In order to qualify for the New York State Junior Singles Championships(the New York City Finals), scores were compiled in a two week period from all the bowlers in participating leagues. I don’t know if they chose those two weeks at random or had specified ahead of time that a particular two week period would determine if you’d qualify but guess what? I made it into that championship, which would be held at Kissena Lanes in Queens, NY. No big deal really as a bunch of people seemed to make it from my league including my friend Larry.  I ended up putting in as much effort at this championship game as I usually did during the regular weekly games. Of course when I bowl, when everyone bowls, we’re all trying to get a strike. But wanting a strike and getting a strike are two different things. When I bowl, I just try to do what I always do: stand at a certain distance from the line, take the same few steps as I wind up and release the ball, trying to keep it as straight as possible and hopefully hit the sweet spot between the number 1 and 3 pins. And on that day, I did that extremely well. I bowled the best games of my life. I was in the boys handicap division, and I won some of my games without even needing that handicap. I literally surprised myself with that performance. I was almost embarrassed when my name was mentioned over the PA system as the winner in my division because I really didn’t think I put much effort into it. Winning in my division meant that I would advance to the state finals that would be held in Ithaca, NY. I would be competing with all winners from the different cities and counties across the empire state. The tournament in Ithaca was about 5 weeks away so until then I had a chance to live out my glory, which consisted of getting a trophy and a little write-up with my picture in our little community newspaper, The Starrett City Sun. That was it. Also during that 5 weeks time, I went to Cross Bay Lanes to train, my first time ever training. I bowled a few games over a couple of weeks. I just tried to be as consistent as possible, just trying to hit that sweet spot. That was the extent of my practice because I thought I was as ready as I ever was going to be. Cross Bay Lanes were nice enough to let me take that special black bowling ball with the marble green swirl to Ithaca. Both my mom and dad came with me for the 5 hour drive upstate to Ithaca. I'm glad they were able to accompany me, as they were my ride, otherwise I would have had to take a bus from the Port Authority. We rolled into town Friday evening and checked into one of the standard cheap motels that dot our country's landscape, something like a Days Inn or Motel 6, though I think it had a name like The Lamplighter Inn or something like that. The next morning the tournament would begin.

My write-up and photo in The Starrett City Sun

    Everyone gathered at the bowling alley called Ide's Family Fun Center to sign in, register and all that business. Each bowler received a goodie bag which consisted of a pennant, a bowling shirt, stickers and other things like that. More importantly though there was a small envelope with about $70 inside. Not bad when you’re 15. The tournament would consist of 3 games, a lunch break and a final 3 games. All the bowlers found their way to their assigned alleys and began warming up. As I looked around I saw all these kids and how they seemed so much more like bowlers than I had ever been. Not only did they have their own bowling balls but they also had their own shoes. Some of them even had their own bowling gloves and wrist braces. I thought, “These people know bowling, they breathe bowling”. Maybe it was because they lived in small towns and counties across New York state and there wasn’t much else to do. The tournament started. It was not a good start for me. Let’s just say that as good as I was that day at Kissena Lanes, that’s how bad I was in Ithaca. I couldn’t get a strike. I couldn’t get a spare. There’s no worse feeling than throwing a gutter bowl and then turning around and facing everyone as you take that long walk back to your seat. That happened a bunch of times during that first half. The only solace I had at this time was that there was another bowler who was doing as poorly as I was. We could commiserate together. The first half ended and we broke for lunch. Thank god that was over. I really hoped to do better in the second half. 

The pennant that was in my goodie bag, which I never hung up on
my wall until a few days ago just so I could take a photo of it

    But I did not. I ended up bowling as badly as I did in the first half. And this time, I didn’t even have my new friend to share in the pain because he was bowling much better, he had found his mojo. I was left in the dust. No one was talking to me. They did want my terrible bowling to affect them. I felt like one of those sickly animals that gets ignored by the herd because it makes them vulnerable to their predators. Finally the carnage was over. I felt like shit. My dad made a few jokes about my performance. That’s how he dealt with the pain and humiliation that his son felt. It was easier to deal with the situation in that way rather than with something more tactful and understanding. I wasn't mad at him. I'm sure he was doing the best that he could. After all he was raised by my grandfather and that man was certainly a piece of work. I too found it easier to make light of or ignore situations rather than have a real moment of intimacy. Anyway that night there was a banquet for all the bowlers and their families that included formal announcements of that day's winners. I did not have to worry about being embarrassed this time when they mentioned my name, they weren’t going to. One thing I remember from the banquet was the entertainment. It was one singer with his guitar who sang a song called “Ithaca Sunset”. Yep, the sun set down on me in Ithaca. We headed back to New York City the following morning.

The town of Ithaca-where I met my demise

     I didn’t sign up for bowling the next season. Bowling wasn’t something that I was really that interested in. After all I had only signed up because my friend suggested it and now I was a junior in high school and my friends and I, including Larry, wanted to partake in more "adult" things. As far as bowling goes I understood that I lacked the skills to have played well. I certainly could have done a number of things to improve like practice regularly or get a trainer of some sort had been something I was passionate about. Though I also understood I must have had some skills; I did bowl incredibly well at Kissena Lanes and a few other times during that year. Obviously you’ve got to have the skills and the discipline to practice in order to hone those skills but equally importantly, I think, is you've got to learn to get out of your own way, you've got to learn to let go. At Kissena Lanes, I wasn’t really focused on winning, but I didn’t have any expectations either. I was free. I was just hanging out with my friends having fun. This reminds me of stories I've heard about of actors getting nervous about an upcoming audition. They get all worked up about it and then, for some reason, they believe someone else already got the part and now the audition is just a formality so they don’t fret, they just go to the audition without any expectations since it “doesn’t matter” anymore. But they end up giving a flawless audition. You’ve got nothing to lose, you might as well go for it all. Regardless of my lack of passion for bowling, I believe had I not put so much pressure on myself that day in Ithaca, had I not worried so much about what others had thought, had I not entertained the idea that these were real bowlers and I was a fraud, I would have bowled better.  At 15, I couldn't grasp this concept. I didn't grasp it many years after that either. It took years of living life to finally understand it. So when there are times today where I return to that old behavior, where I get in my own way, I reflect on my little Ithaca adventure and remember to just let go.