Worst Night of League Bowling in Years

I bowled a 491 series tonight.  My final game was 134.  I have been racking my brain to find reasons, not excuses, so that I can learn from this and never allow it to happen again.

I had 702 last week, which was only that low because I inexplicably threw a seven count, after 19 strikes in 21 shots, and then whiffed the spare, in my final frame. 

That final frame was pretty much how my night went tonight. I've been experimenting with some changes (again) and after last week, which included a 279 game (perfection missed due to a ringing 10-pin in the 9th), I thought I was making progress.

Some of it was beyond my control.  Most of it was not. I am trying to use the Anthony Robbins mind trick of asking myself, "What is great about what happened tonight?"

One answer, if I try seriously, is that it is an opportunity to truly learn so that it never happens again.  Oh, I'm sure it will happen again on a sport shot in some tournament some time.  But not on a house shot on league night.  Since starting up bowling again five seasons ago, it's my only sub-500 series.  My second lowest was somewhere in the 540s.  The 134 is, I think, my lowest league game since starting up again.

I should probably do it now, but I am going to wait until I've cooled down a bit more to think more clearly, to start the brainstorming session.  The downside of waiting is that I may forget some things, but I doubt I'll forget much of the important stuff.  As surreal as it was, I think it's been planted in my brain pretty firmly for a while.

Sad news from Ortonville: Home to my first radio gig

I had not followed the traffic data to my blog until very recently. I found it interesting whenever I'd actually get, say, a half-dozen visits in a day. Today, I discovered that I got over two dozen visits, and all of them to my post about the Columbian Hotel in Ortonville, Minnesota.  It's the place I lived for a short while during my first year as a radio announcer.

Curiously, I decided to Google the Hotel, seeing that it was Google searches that drove the traffic.  I was horrified to learn that the reason for all of the traffic was Googlers searching for the story of the fire that destroyed this wonderful building.

When I lived there, the locals did indeed call it a "fire trap."  Here's the sad story: http://www.ksfy.com/story/19923121/fire-destroys-columbian-hotel-in-ortonville-minn

Random Stuff

I did squats and leg presses at the YMCA today.  I have been doing them for a few weeks now.  Just a few months ago, I thought I'd never do another weighted squat again. My back may go out again tomorrow, but I'm pretty darned happy to be doing squats again, even though I'm going real light for now.

Driving back from the Y put things into perspective for me. Bad back or not, I'm better off than the squirrel I tried (and failed) to avoid hitting. Poor guy...that's the first I've hit in several years, and hopefully the last. But probably not.

It was fun flipping channels between three blowouts tonight.  MLB, NFL, and DFL/GOP.

OK, so the Bears didn't exactly "blow out" Detroit, but I think history will back me up in saying no team has ever won a game scoring 0 points. (ETA: There were actually 2:00 minutes left in this game, so I spoke too soon just to make a cheap, not-very-clever joke. As it turned out, the score ratio more closely matched the debate than it did the baseball game.)

Hey Dennis Miller, do you think ass-kickings are covered by Romneycare? How about by vouchers?

Debate mash-up: Binders full of bayonets and horses.

Hey Barack, nice zinger tonight on '80s foreign policy, but David Spade called, and wants his SNL material back.

See, I can be bipartisan in my mockery.

Upcoming Concerts

Even though we should probably be saving the money, my wife and I are going to a few shows I'm pretty excited about. In November, it's Madonna and Springsteen, about a week apart. Madonna is my wife's all-time favorite.  Bruce is mine (alternating with Paul McCartney, depending on what day it is). I've seen Bruce five times previously, and this will be my wife's first time. And like a virgin, or two virgins, the Madonna show will be a first for both of us.

I know and like Madonna's music well enough to enjoy the show.  I hope it's not too much about the choreography, like the Janet Jackson show we saw last year. That one was basically 4 or 5 medleys with a lot of dancing.  Upbeat and energetic for sure, but just not something I get terribly into. I'm guessing it will largely be about all that, but I expect there will be a bigger production with more costume changes and whatnot, so it will be worth it.

Bruce will be Bruce. 'Nuff said.  No Big Man, sadly, and that's really too bad for my wife's sake. I'm quite anxious to see how she responds to her first Bruce show.

We've also got our Pink tickets already.  As with the Madonna show, we were able to purchase four tickets early enough to be good seats (fantastic, in fact, for Pink), and thus were able to sell two of them to help offset the cost of ours. Pink will be fun.  I like her stuff better than Madonna's and I think I will like her even better as a performer.

I keep checking online to see if McCartney is going to announce a tour stop in or fairly near the Twin Cities. At 70, he's lost some of the high end of his voice, but I'd like to see him for a third time. One thing I wish Paul would do, and I realize it's only a wish, is to pick some more obscure songs from his catalog.  His aging pipes might even be a good excuse to pull out some of those - ones he doesn't have to strain to reach the high notes on (like Band On the Run, for example).

I also wish he wouldn't croon so much, but that's his ham-it-up personality coming out. I like the many different things he's done with his voice on record over the years, but he pretty much does the hammy-crooner on all of them live.

Here are some songs I'd like him to do live, and that I think he could still pull off quite well.

Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five
Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey (some high spots near the end, though)
Little Lamb Dragonfly (some high spots again)
Press
Wanderlust (pretty sure he'd have to tune it down at least a couple steps, but I'd be cool with that)
Waterfalls (hmm, see Wanderlust)
Listen To What the Man Said

Now that I think of it, he's got a lot of songs that would really push his high-end. It seems he doesn't like to tune them down to hit the notes, but many, many aging stars do. I'd rather they do that then end up like Eddie Money and some casino ballroom (Youtube it if you don't know what I mean). But maybe if singers didn't think they always had to sing so many songs at the top end of their range, this wouldn't be necessary.

I doubt Leon Redbone ever has that problem.

My 30-year-old secret

I'm not sure where this post is going to go, how it will end, or how long it will be.  But it's a long-time coming, and hopefully will allow me to sleep better at night.

In 1982 and 1983, on my high school golf team, I was accused of cheating. I'm here to say, finally, that I did.

I don't mean to excuse it, so I hope it doesn't appear to be my purpose from my words.  But I need to say it, and I need to say that at the very least, I have been able to live with it only because I know these things:

1) It did not help me earn a spot on the roster, and thus didn't cost anyone else a spot.

2) I never cheated in a match or practice round; only in the two rounds I'm about to share.

3) I learned a great deal from it.

4) As much as the words the accusers used against me hurt, I've beaten myself over it many times over. 

Yeah, I'm basically saying in that last part that having beaten myself up over a couple childhood mistakes makes me feel better.

So here's the story, and while it's a long one, it's late, I'm tired, and I really don't want to spend a lot of time on it because, frankly, it might hurt.  To quote a fake Yogi Berra axiom, I'll be brief for as long as can. 

In my junior year of high school, I tried out for the golf team.  I had played slightly-above bogey golf at times, and heard that would be good enough to at least not get cut, which is all I really hoped for.

Due to a misunderstanding of the rules, my entire foursome's scores were kept by me in the one-round qualifying round.  Not one of us had previously played on the golf team, and we somehow all apparently missed the part about each person keeping another's scores (and then later both signing and attesting).

At some point in the round, having not taken it seriously I guess, we were getting loose with the rules. Yes, the whole group.  I don't even really remember in what ways (Mulligans? Foot-wedges?).  I do remember thinking afterward that I shouldn't  have done it, because even with the harshest estimates, I benefited myself by about, but no more than, 6 strokes.  So my final of 91, which should have been a 97 at worst, was nearly enough to contend for a spot on the varsity. I got away with breaking the scorekeeping rule only because the whole group misunderstood, and the coach asked us each if we were comfortable with the integrity of the scores. We all answered in the affirmative.

Of course, it was not a 91, but it didn't need to be to achieve all I really wanted: to not get cut.  As I recall, 103 was the cut line to at least get to practice for a spot on the JV team. One other in our group "scored" well enough, with a 102. I don't know that he ever even showed up for more than one practice after that. Yes, we all played "loosely," but only two made the cut. 

While I didn't make the team because of the cheating, I sure paid for it.  At the preseason banquet, someone asked me what I shot.  "Ninety-one," I said.  "Oh!" was the reply, with a slight nod.  Then I heard another say, under his breath, "He cheated his ass off." Some soft laughter followed.

In some ways, I don't know if I've ever recovered from that comment.  Golf is such a game of confidence and mental toughness, yet those words live with me nearly everyday - everyday for sure during golf season. Self-doubt has been something I've never been able to fully shake, for more than four or five holes anyway. 

My first two practice rounds of 9 holes after the qualifying were identical: 59. One was with the coach, probably to keep an eye on me.  I can't imagine what he must have thought at that point. True, I wasn't that good yet, but I was no 59-shooter.  But my mind was an absolute mess.  Why I didn't quit after that, I still don't know. Probably too stupid to.

Every morning, the coach would put out either the practice schedule or match schedule of the day.  He'd give everybody a chance now and then to practice and improve, so they could possibly earn a JV or Varsity roster spot in a match.  I'm not sure when it started, but someone, or more, started writing "he cheats," or "cheater" next to my name when I had a chance to play.

I don't recall much about the weeks ahead, but gradually, I started to play better, even earning a spot in JV matches. Yes, it was honest, 100% so, practice or match. At the end of the year, our JV team finished 2nd in a final JV tournament.  One of our players, today a somewhat well-known figure in Minnesota Hockey in fact, won medalist honors with an 84 at Majestic Oaks' Platinum course.  Despite at least two "snowmen" on my card, I shot a 92. 

"He's really improved," I overheard one team member tell the coach.  That meant a lot.  He was one who played with me during one of my 59s.

So you'd think the next year, my senior year, I'd have learned my lesson.  Nope.  In the qualifying round, I shot a 94.  But it was really a 96.

I popped up a drive on the back nine, and found it embedded in the soggy, early-spring fairway.  Ignorant of the rules that would have allowed me to pull it and drop for free, I took two hacks at it.  I got it out on the third.  Because my playing partners had walked ahead, I flat-out lied and said I took two practice swings.

I was stupid enough to think that the guy I told this to bought it.  Today, I doubt it.  I do remember what I thought was a brief look of disgust on his face when I said it, but I suppose since he didn't actually see it, he figured he had to take my word for it.

Sad thing is, yes I cheated, but not only didn't I need to because of the again-generous cut line of over 100, I really didn't need to, because of the rules of golf.

Once again, the "cheater" claim greeted me virtually every morning that I was scheduled to play. One team member even confided in me that one other player, who wasn't having such a good year and thus not getting as many opportunities, asked the coach straight up: "Why do let all the cheaters play?"

"I'll let anyone play that I want to," said the coach, as I was told.

But this year I somehow managed to not regress in the first couple of post-qualifying rounds, probably because I had since learned the embedded ball rule, and felt less guilty about it. Yeah, it excuses nothing, but as a young mind and as immature as I was, I was desperate to find something to mitigate my lack of character.

I remember one day things really turned for the better. It was one of those very rare rounds (very rare for me, even today) in which I was unaware as to how well (or poorly) I was playing.  After finishing the ninth hole at Midland Hills Country Club, and the scores were tallied, I had shot 41 for the nine.  That earned me a spot in the next Varsity match.

I didn't play particularly well as the "sixth man," but well enough to hang around for two more matches, plus an 18-hole invitational.  A couple 45s and a 46 if I recall correctly (or perhaps a 45 and two 46s), and then a dead-last place 100 in the invitational at Hastings Country Club.

Something funny happened in one of those 46s. So self-conscious about playing by the rules, I got to the last hole pestering my opponent with a rules question, because there was no way in hell I was going to break a rule. Finally, at the green, with both teams watching, he said, "Just putt the ball, Ding Dong!"

You could hear the other players giggling and trying not to.  Sadly, and I do mean that, this incident may have won my team the match.  That same opponent signed an incorrect scorecard, having scored one more on that last hole than he signed for.  The way the scoring system worked, each team took its best five out of six scores.  His was thrown out, and their sixth man's was used, giving us the match.

The next day of play, and the last few times I got to play, instead of "he cheats" next to my name, someone put in the words "Ding Dong." It was an improvement.

My head hung pretty low after that 100, especially on the bus ride back, but I got over it eventually. I was ultimately beat out for a spot in regionals by the same guy who medaled at the previous year's JV tourney. I ended up earning my one and only letter in high school, and yeah, despite the guilt, I do feel I earned it.

And that's my story.  Amazing to me is how some of the details are so crystal clear in my memory, including all of the people I heard say things. I guess with that many emotional anchors to the events, many of the details became permanent staples in my brain.

Detail like one story about the guy who probably doubted my two "practice" strokes but said nothing. One day in our senior year I tried to playfully tease him about his previous day's 54 for nine holes. That would have been like another 59 for me, or worse, and in my senior season to boot. How did he take it? By wrapping his arm tightly around my neck, keeping me from breathing for several seconds, right in class.

Yeah, I could understand his lack of willingness to laugh it off, but I had gone through a helluva lot worse treatment than he did from my poor and ill-advised attempt at friendly jabbing, regardless of how much I brought on myself. 

In addition to the four points noted above, I would add these mitigating factors, not as excuses, but just in helping me cope over it all:

5) A playing partner and I witnessed someone else cheating in the "100" round, but we did nothing.  Doing something could have kept me from finishing dead last, but I didn't want to put him through the embarrassment.

6) Several years later, while playing with a friend and younger member of the same team, he confessed to me that he actually had cheated in a match.

7) The type of person I've become was at least in part shaped by my experiences over the two years on the high school golf team. I'd like to think for the better, as one motto I try to live by is to do the right thing when no one is watching.

Do I cheat today? In a match, MGA-sanctioned or otherwise event: never. I've called strokes against myself when I didn't have to as there were no witnesses. Not saying I deserve a medal...just saying.

When I play with friends, since I keep an MGA handicap, I still don't cheat, unless at least three conditions are met:

1) My buddies tell me to

2) It won't affect my GHIN index one way or another

3) Pace of play favors just moving on with the round

If they tell me to just take a drop when I've lost a ball, it gets sticky.  I typically add not one, but two penalty strokes, and almost invariably end up making at least my max double-bogey for Equitable Stroke purposes. I suppose one could say that ends up overstating my handicap, which is another form of cheating. Sorry, I won't feel guilty of the .02 strokes that artificially inflates it when we're trying to fight slow play in the world today.

Anyway, that's my "short, brief" confession.  It feels good.  I honestly thought I might get emotional typing it, but it was quite liberating.  I hope I didn't miss anything, but I don't really want to proof it other than a quick spelling check. I'll probably come back to it another day to make sure I didn't miss anything important.

If anyone is reading this, please, ask me follow-up questions. Full disclosure will give me closure. And thank you.