A
friend invited me to go bowling and I didn’t just say “no,” I said, “Hells
no!" You know it’s serious when you add the “s.” Why such a vehement
reaction? Is it the inherently unsanitary nature of the game? You’d think so,
but for some reason my Inner Neat Freak is not disturbed by the idea of
sticking my digits into those dark, germy holes or slipping my feet into shoes
that other people have been wearing for decades. For me, it’s a childhood
thing. No, I wasn’t beaten with a bowling ball or abandoned in a bowling alley.
The problem is my Dad was a fantastic bowler. And when I say fantastic, I mean
great, amazing, could’ve gone pro. My Dad went to bowling tournaments and won
trophies. When he stopped bowling, he continued to coach and became a league
official. That’s a lot to live up to.
