As I have stated many times before, the Kegel Training Center in Lake Wales, Florida is one of my favorite places on Earth. It is a state-of-the-art training facility run by some incredible people who sweat the details, a professional organization in every sense of the word. I am truly lucky that this place is less than three hours from my house. If you ever get a chance, go there. Plan your next vacation around going to the bowling equivalent of church. You will not be sorry. In fact, you will be better than when you got there - that's their job. Why am I bringing this up again? Because I got to go back last Thursday. My previous trip for the pro shop training course in November was cut short due to my instructor, The Immortal Randy Stoughton, contracted food poisoning on the last day. He made it to about noon before telling me I passed, that they would give me a free half-day, and he was going home to vomit and pass out. All I heard was that I could come back for free. Sweet. That day was last Thursday. A group of us (discount rates applied, so I got to go free for the WHOLE day) woke far too early and carpooled it down. This time I finally remembered to bring my camera do document the glory.
Welcome to Bowling Church. Twelve of the flattest, most well-maintained lanes on the planet. Seriously, each of the lanes is FULLY adjustable every two feet. They can create any lane deformation imaginable (for the purposes of testing the lane oilers the build there) or dead flat lanes that play as the same as lanes can play. The Immortal Randy Stoughton can be seen in the lower left.
That's Del Warren (dropping the hard science on Alan, the 15 year-old pro shop rat and bowling prodigy), former PBA ninja, former Storm and Track rep, and something of a mad scientist. He's also a dead-ringer for my brother-in-law Adam, only he's obsessed with bowling and not impregnating my sister. Del came to Kegel the end of last year, and I was excited to see him there. Until, that is, he blew my mind. Del's a big believer in a hinge motion pushaway to start the swing. In fact, he's not a fan of any exaggerated pushaway. He had me holding the ball directly under my head (not in line with my shoulder), pushing the ball out MAYBE six inches form my body with my first step (it's normally a much longer extension), then a normal delivery. It slowed my ball speed a little, somehow increased my rev rate some, and flat-out WORKED. Worked with less effort, so much less as to be totally disconcerting. Mind-blowing, actually. I'd throw a few shots the Del way then spend a few minutes shaking my head in disbelief that so little effort was needed to get the ball in the right place. This would be fine if I wasn't standing ten feet away from the guy who taught me the swing I had coming into the building (Randy, who was splitting coaching duties with Del), the swing that was also flat-out working for me. I was truly confused. I understand having a crappy swing and improving it, but having a good swing and then being handed another good one? Huh? I was happy to go eat some barbecue and not think about it for an hour.
After lunch, I did a video analysis session with Randy (in the picture you can see Alan on the top-right screen), which is truly the most awesome aspect of the Kegel experience. There are cameras in front of, to the side of, and behind you, and they can break down your swing from any angle frame-by-frame, all while recording it to DVD with real-time coaching voice-over. (There is nothing more helpful/embarassing than seeing yourself bowl from every conceivable angle. How porn stars live with the fruits of their labor, I'll never know.) I got footage of both the Del-coached and Randy-coached swings, and Randy agreed that both are fundamentally sound. I asked Randy about my confusion. He said, in essence, try both and use the one you feel works best for you. When that one stops working, use the other - it's another tool at your disposal. (Way to make me feel good about feeling confused, my man. That's why you're The Immortal.) The last part of the day was spent in the Kegel pro shop, where Del looked at gear, spans, pitches, and such. Here, he is truly a master. He knows his shit and can communicate it well. It was odd for me because half the balls he inspected were drilled by me, therefore I was a convenient target for blame. Lucky for me, I could pass the buck and blame Randy for not teaching me right during the pro shop course. I also got to oggle their mill-drill machine, one of which I will own before the summer. (The one I'm using now has a Fisher-Price logo and some PowerPuff Girls stickers on it.) On the ride home some of us were privvy to the driver-who-shall-remain-nameless conversing with his wife about his exact whereabouts. Seems that he said he was "out-of-town on a job interview" instead of bowling all day. High comedy. In fact, I took a picture featuring him off my blog photos in case his wife stumbles upon my page looking for evidence that might damn him. I think it worked out well for him in hindsight - he almost shot his first 700 the following Monday, and he and his wife are speaking again. After three days of silence.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007, 11:45 AM EST [Not Bowling]
For those few that might wonder, my blogging took a backseat to learning to actually type. You know, using all the fingers, not looking at the keyboard, etc. Seemed to me that if I was going to do this kind of thing I should take the time to learn the nuts and bolts so that creating a blog entry doesn't consume a whole day. Well, at least not in the physical execution of it anyway. My apologies to the four of you for the delay.
I could recount for you the vast amount of stuff that has happened in the last few weeks - the 300 I threw in practice (part of 15 in a row), the 762 in league a week ago, the Senior PBA regional my home bowling center hosted this weekend, meeting Guppy Troup, watching him kick bowling ass while drunk on Crown Royal Reserve at 8:30 Sunday morning, the open bar tab for pro shop employees (and the ensuing drunken idiocy) on Saturday, the "date" I arranged with a former girlfriend for my first trip to Nationals in May, my fourth trip to Kegel, meeting and receiving a day's worth of instruction from Del Warren while there, and a few other bits I can't recall right now - but I won't just yet. I'd rather tell you about what happened this morning.
I stopped by my favorite supermarket this morning to pick up some lunch supplies. It's run by an old Southern family and, especially in the mornings, the checkout people are all older ladies, always super polite and friendly as hell. I get my stuff and find my favorite checkout lady, whose name I've managed to never learn, but who always remembers me. She's doing her regular checkout thing, but she seems rattled. She says, "Forgive me, but my nineteen year-old grandson is shipping out to Iraq today, and it's about killing me." She starts crying and I suddenly feel bad for even being there, making her ring up my now-inconsequential food. She hands me my receipt, thanks me for being so kind and asks me for a hug. It's not the manliest thing to leave a supermarket in tears, yet there I was, fumbling for my keys and wiping my eyes on the walk out to the car.
I get to work and immediately get into a half-hour conversation with my friend about his current obsession with The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson, and the relationship between their music and the Beatles. Specifically, he shows me the similarities between The Beatles' "Ticket To Ride" - in retrospect, an earth-shattering shift in pop music songcraft - and an obscure Beach Boys song called "Girl Don't Tell Me". Of course, this leads to much listening of other songs by both groups, and my realization that 1) I need to do more listening to both groups' entire catalogs and 2) there is probably no other workplace in the world where this sort of conversation is even ALLOWED to go on, much less IS going on.
(Seriously, listen to the BB's "God Only Knows" sometime and tell me that it isn't a masterpiece, or the Beatles' "I'm Only Sleeping" and tell me that pop music gets much better.)
I had a small disagreemant with a woman at the shop the other day. She had been rolling the same ball for several years, and wanted to know about the latest line of Track balls, and ONLY Track balls. Fair enough, she likes Track, probably after some experimentation with other brands that didn't quite work for her. We walk (well, more like shift twelve inches to the left from where we were standing) over to the Track balls and I start talking, asking her about her game, the lane conditions she normally plays on, etc.
I get the usual "I don't like to throw a big hook" and "the lanes I bowl are really oily" and "I want it to go long and hit hard." That usually translates to, "My technique isn't very good" and "I don't know how to adjust very well" and "I've read some promotional literature." I'm not trying to be callous or express a sense of exasperation. You just get a sense for people after asking a few hundred of them about their games. She falls into the vast middle ground of league bowlers with a 150-170 average and not much motivaton to really improve, save for the occasional new ball. Again, not criticizing - it is what it is.
So I'm looking at the Track balls on the wall, and realize:
- Track only has eight balls in their lineup.
- Four of them, the Machine series (I'm including the Robo Rule here - it has the same core) are very similar, like the Ebonite One series, only Track has done a TERRIBLE job of articulating the differences between balls.
- Since I haven't drilled up all four and seen for myself the reaction differences, and I don't know how to describe how the "Fang LS" coverstock is different from the "Vector SF", I'm forced into Bullshit Land. And I don't like to bullshit people.
- It suddenly became clear why we don't sell too many Track balls - not many options, bad marketing of said options making it that much harder for pro shop guys to recommend them over other companies, and no "homers" for Track in house buying every ball they put out, allowing me the opportunity to see the ball reactions myself.
This is all coming to me as I'm half-stammering my way through the Track lineup. I ask if she has used any other companies' balls, stalling for time. "Well, I won't use Ebonite. I had one about eight years ago, but it sucked." Oh, really! I can't let this one go.
"Really? You know, they've been making some balls that are really popular."
"No, they suck."
"Every person I've sold one to has been really happy with it."
"I don't care. They suck."
Now bear in mind that I wasn't particularly trying to sell her on Ebonite. Frankly, her demeanor irritated me to the point that I just wanted her out of the shop. But I was fascinated by her obstinance and her inability to recoginize that a bowling ball company could improve its products over time. It's like if a sports team sucked last year, there's no way that they could be good this year. She eventually left without buying anything, and I had the nagging feeling that I was a pathetic shill for Ebonite.
Then I had a larger realization. This wasn't about ball preference so much as comfort zones we as humans are loathe to admit to yet are loathe to leave. It's what keeps people complaining about lane conditions rather than getting a bowling lesson to better adapt to the lane, it keeps people using the same equipment without even considering other options (Seriously, compare this list with this one. Seems like one company is putting forth more effort than the other into R&D and one might want to put some thought into giving them a second chance.), it keeps people living in the same place even though it's a college town and there are precious few women worth dating in your age bracket - wait, that's my internal monologue talking. You get the idea.
And I'm not in the tank for Ebonite. They happen to be making some great equipment, and their line is large and diverse, giving me many options when trying to put the right ball in someone's hand. Track is currently eight decent balls in a back office at Columbia300 headquarters. Guess which one's gonna have a better chance to dominate the Ball Wall?
Wednesday, January 17, 2007, 09:56 AM EST [General]
As I wrote last time, I expected a busy weekend and perhaps to own half of the pro shop. I was half right. The shop was ablaze with business. The last few weeks people have really started coming by, like because it's a new year it's all of a sudden became acceptable to check us out.
(To review, there are two centers in Gainesville. For a few years, one of them was closed down but was cleaned up and reopened in May of 2006. Since it was two miles from my house, I haunted the renovation process and consequently landed the pro shop gig. It's been a slow yet steady building of reputation and business since then.)
However, I won't be owning the pro shop anytime soon. One owner got antsy and bought out the other owner over the weekend. This is fine for now, really, I'm OK with it. I can't comment further on the matter, on account of my overall master plan. This is a public forum after all. If it all works out, I'll buy all of Bowlspace a round. Stay tuned.
Actually, I'll say one thing. Is it a bad sign when the "new" pro shop owner passes out drunk in his pickup truck outside of the bowling alley at around 2:30 Saturday afternoon? Maybe I'm a nervous nelly, but that doesn't bode well for the future. Especially when he's not too good at differentiating between eighths and sixteenths of an inch. I'm getting bummed out thinking about it.
But for now I'm focusing on the good things. Barring some disaster, I've qualified for the finals of the Gainesville Masters Tournament. 229.5 average over four games, thank you very much. The finals are this Sunday. Should be fun. I also got the opportunity to drill up an arsenal for Frank, one of the center managers. It's not often that someone wants to drop the cash for three balls AND gives you complete freedom as to ball choice and layout. Frank told me the ball reactions he wanted, I watched him bowl some, and off I went.
And wouldn't you know it, it worked out just about right. The layouts I drew up produced ball reactions Frank asked for. (I'll say this again - thank you Kegel Training Center. If you get the chance, don't let anything stop you from going.) What he didn't ask for was for me to wildly misplace the thumbhole on his "mild arcing" ball. I managed to get it to where he could roll the ball to check the ball reaction, but it looks like I'll be adding a plugged Hammer Blue Vibe to my arsenal, goddammit.
Totally unrelated: I didn't get a chance to watch The Show, but I was informed that Sean Rash was the winner. I feel that it is time to give Sean a new nickname. I've never been comfortable with "Diaper" - stupid, too easy, and kinda gross. It's also not nearly good enough for a now three-time PBA winner. My vote is for "The Yeti Badass", paying homage to (or poking fun at, depending) both his Alaskan heritage and his general bad-assed-ness, but I want input. If you're reading this, think up a new nickname for Mr. Rash and leave it as a comment on this blog, or better yet, tell him yourself.
I am an hour and a half away from one whale of a weekend. Tonight is ball-drilling hell with the arrival of all of the free balls for the Lousy Bowler's League. God knows there will be way too many people in the shop all wanting them drilled right then. They will also be in various stages of drunk. Should be something like combat. If I survive, I'll tell the tale.
Also this weekend: the New Titletown (formerly Gainesville, FL) Masters Tournament qualifying. There are to be two weekends of qualifying, with the finals on Sunday the 20th. The first weekend shouldn't be too hectic, but I just know that tournaments mean I'm going to be there all day. If I'm not bowling I'll be drilling and fixing, or just watching the action. Meanwhile my house does not get painted for the 95th weekend in a row.
On a brighter note, I'm in the middle of buying out Marty's half of the pro shop. I just have to hash out the final number. Of course, I've never run a business, much less bought one. I DO know how to drill, I'm reasonably personable, and I have a partner who does have a good deal of business savvy (short-term memory lapses and drinking problem notwithstanding). Still, the whole idea strikes me as a bit insane, especially if you consider that I wasn't even bowling six years ago. Strange where life takes you when you jump in the deep end.
If that all goes down smooth I'm going to sink some money into this milling machine. It's the same one the use in the PBA truck, it's really easy to use and adjust, it's super-accurate, and it's surprisingly affordable, comparatively speaking. (I told Ernie, the guy who makes them, that if it came with breasts I'd marry one. Slayed him.) It will be one more step in my quest to rule the North Central Fla. pro shop universe, crushing all comers like a well-prepared and angry defense chasing down Troy Smith. (OK, that was unnecessary gloating, but you get the point.)
One last thing. It appears that 3-4 hours of screaming in support/celebration of one's sports team is detrimental to the veins in the white part of your eye, as that is the only explanation for the busted vessel in my left one. On top of that, the dermatologist took a divot out of the suspicious-looking bump under the same eye. Bloody eye, stitches - it looks like I got cold-cocked. I should make up a better story than I got drunk, yelled alot, then got my face cancer taken out. On second thought, that's not a bad one.
