There comes a time when you admit to yourself that you can’t win at anything. Sure I can compete, but improving my golf game and beating my 26 year old son is a thing of the past. I know I will never catch up to the friends I ski with. I play tennis occasionally and can’t beat a girl. Rather than cry about it, I simply tell everyone that what I do is for fun and then I go home and kick the dog.
That being said, every once in awhile you can be teased by your own accomplishments and I am in the “there’s still hope I will join the world rankings once again” mode.
It started three weeks ago. Team Antlers arrived as we always do for the Wednesday night league at the bowling alley. Yes, I said Bowling. The Antlers has an organized team that has been involved in the league play for 5 years. We have uniforms and everything. We have always been in the lower third of the standings and struggle to win just like the Chicago Cubbies used to be or the Cleveland Indians are now.We’re a likable team though. The other guys really seem to enjoy playing against us. It must be our magnetic personalities combined with a killer attitude to compete and ultimately lose.
Three Wednesdays ago we busted out of the gate and started to show all the young, finely tuned athletes in Eagle County what kind of grit and fiber we’re made of. Entrenched firmly in last place and arriving as we do (non-threatening), we took the unsuspecting opponents for all they had. Cowering like small children, they left that night with a bit more respect for us than when they arrived. Yours truly bowled a career high 218 and was hoisted upon David LeVine’s shoulders and carried off to the parking lot.
Not to be outdone, Rob LeVine quickly blew out my candle in order to make his shine brighter. The following week he recaptured the spotlight and bowled a career high 226. I attempted to hoist him onto my shoulders but dropped him on the table into a half finished pizza and a pitcher of beer. Another win for Team Antlers. On this night, we crawled out of the cellar in the standings. The rest of the league was taking notice of the new kids in town.
Week 3 would be pivotable. We could sense the fear in our opponents eyes and felt our new found confidence. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are on a “roll”. The cellar is for rats and we now believe we belong upstairs like the cozy, little, huggable kittens we are.
I will spare you the details of last nights competition. I will only say that there were no 200 games. Speaking only for myself, I still feel like I can compete, I just don’t think I want to win. It’s too much pressure.
Rob said it best as we packed our bags to leave. “We took a peak out of the cellar, didn’t like it, so we crawled back in”.