Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Yesterday after work, we had the Q4 team “event” (even though we’re now 2/3 through Q1…” which was, god help me, bowling. It wasn’t bad, I didn’t do as horribly as I could’ve, but by christ 2 hours of bowling goes really tediously slowly. It probably didn’t help that we were at the tacky hollywood bowl near Canada Water (but then, what bowling lane /doesn’t/ seem tacky?) but for someone who once vowed never to go bowling again, well, let’s just say I’ve had less excruciating evenings.

One of my main hates of bowling is the fact that I’m incredibly crap at it. I don’t mean crap in the “i’m crap at pool” or “I’m crap at Quake deathmatch” sense, we’re talking the “Crap at football” or “crap at rugby” sense. The kind of crap that makes it very hard to enjoy playing the game because you’re constantly having to deal with the rampant shiteness of you. Unfortunately, unlike all those other sports, there’s no way of avoiding the ball for the majority of the game. The futility of playing a sport you’ve got no hope of winning is probably a large reason why I can’t find it in myself to enjoy it, I admit, but there’s a second reason that relates to my youth. Allow me to spin the yarn.

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful development between Whitnash and Warwick that saw a new retail part built, in a sim city 2000-style “zoned for commerce” block. The kind you’ll find on the outskirts of just about any residential area - a few fast food places, supermarkets, large warehouses, perhaps a cinema, and christ help us all, quite often a bowling alley. This bowling lane (Superbowl, it was called at the time) was just like any other. It had a dodgy in-store fast food joint, a small selection of overpriced arcade games, a selection of gaudy colours and a bar. For a short while it was the focus of a whole wave of social activity in a way that only a bowling alley can be in a town with only one, single-screen, cinema. Much like all fads, the novelty fast wore off, and as it did so did the seat covers, the shoe soles, and the carpet in the foyer. The once proud and mighty bowling alley became filthy and weathered. Some time around this point I realised it was no longer the kind of place I’d want to willingly spend my free time. (I can accurately place this date as some time in the year (of our lord) 2000.)

Now, I associate the act of bowling with all sorts of horrible things, like carpets with chewing gum matted in, and crappy worn out shoes that have laces grey with stained-in dirt. Like any sport/game, Bowling turns people into obsessive nutcases with no sense of perspective. The particular quirk of bowling is that you will be told several times by anyone you’re with why your technique needs to be altered, and how you should alter it. Any non-professional giving advice on how to bowl has clearly never seen themselves doing it, because there’s not a single way for a casual player to avoid the appearance of having some kind of seizure when attempting to bowl. Bowling also has the very odd quirk of being the only sport where, around 11:00 at night on a Tuesday, they will switch off all the lights, replace 3 pins with ones that glow in the dark, activate some strobe lighting and get a resident DJ in to play techno at 4000 decibels. Frankly if they did this with football, I might actually watch a game.

As a note of historical influence, Superbowl was the place where I played the “Dragon’s Lair” arcade game. I remember it cost me 50p, I watched the intro three times, then the game was over. If anyone out there has played Dragon’s Lair in the arcades, you’ll no doubt relate.

In summation, “I haven’t felt this invigorated since my last, er, boweling”