I Hate Bowling

I really have come to dislike bowling as sport or pastime. I can’t figure out why, but I seem to forget everything I’ve learned at the immediately previous bowling experience. And it’s things like that which make me inclined to believe that it’s a “sport” more of either dumb luck, raw repetition, or some curious combination of the two.

There’s also very little class ever associated with the game or those who champion it, much as the mullet-festooned NASCAR afficionados in their brightly colored baseball and feed caps, anxiously craning their necks to armchair jockey their favorite driver past the finish line.

I usually assume that a game is a sport when the players need to be in peak physical and mental condition to compete. There seems to parade an endless array of sociopaths and slightly out of shape senior citizens, along with their few but loyal youthful compatriots, anxiously awaiting heavy and dinged plastic to almost miraculously emerge from the possibly labrinthine underbelly of their establishment of choice.

I don’t pretend to understand it, but I suppose thst I’ll have to keep playing, at least as long as I have to. There’s only so much pointless frustration and endless second guessing I can deal with before I’m ready to throw in the towel. At least until *that* becomes a sport.