I love my beginner’s luck. Well, that is until I forgot I have it.
Let me explain.
My small group from church decided to go bowling this week. I haven’t bowled in years so I was worried I’d break myself. Many images of how I’d break myself flashed through my mind in the days prior. Most of them involved me crashing to the floor and lying there until the glow of ambulance lights brought me back to consciousness. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.
(As an aside, one member of our party did bite it after getting a little too overzealous in her approach and crossed the foul line. She fell down, but there were no ambulance lights. And yes, we did laugh at her. But I pulled her back across the line and then helped her to her feet, so I argue that negates my participation in the laughter.)
Anyway, there’s one member of our group who is clearly more than a novice bowler. In the days prior to bowling night, it was discovered that he had a bowling card in his wallet. Clearly, we had a ringer in our midst.
With a less than spectacular showing my first time up, I got it together on the second frame. It seems since I hadn’t bowled in so long, the beginner’s luck applied. Put me down for a strike or two and some spares, and I was holding my own with the ringer.
About the sixth or seventh frame, I realized it had somehow become a competition between the two of us. He was just a few points ahead of me and I was catching up fast. He wasn’t amused by the prospect of being beaten by a girl, what with him being a card-carrying member of the Bowling League United (yes, I made that up) and all.