11 consecutive strikes...and one mishap.

Ahh, yes…February 28th, 2006. The day I almost made perfect history but ended up with history nonetheless.

Since the age of three I’ve been bowling. At the age of thirteen I bowled a 268. I remember thinking to myself “Wow! If I can hit a 268 now, no telling what I’ll be bowling as I get older!”

Unfortunately, that damn score remained my personal best for twenty-two long years. I managed to tie it once, fall shy of besting it by several pins on a number of occasions, but could seemingly never top it.

All that changed, of course, on the final day of February of 2006.

Below is an email I sent to my friend Brandon the day after I shot my personal best.

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So I hit the lanes last night feeling pretty calm for some odd reason. I have been bowling piss poorly lately and figured I was due for a good night but didn’t figure the time was near.

I got up to throw some practice shots and had four strikes in a row. Assuming that I was warmed up enough, I sat down.

Game #1 begins:

Frame 1? Strike.
Frame 2? Strike.
Frame 3? Strike.
Frame 4? Strike.
Frame 5? Strike.
Frame 6? Strike.

Okay, I’ve started numerous games over the years with the first six in a row. The majority of the time, however, my next roll is inevitably a split and I end up with some damn game in the 230s.

Frame 7? Strike.
Frame 8? Strike.
Frame 9? Strike.

At this point I’m starting to get both nervous and excited. Nervous because, hey, I’m three strikes away from a perfect game. Excited because I’m at a point where I can FINALLY top that god damn 268 game that has hung over my head as my personal best for twenty-two years.

Frame 10? Strike.

At this point, half the league comes down to watch me roll the next ball.

Strike.

Okay…it’s on. I’m ONE strike away from every bowler’s dream game.

Now, when I was a kid bowling I *never* imagined I’d shoot a 300 in my entire life. Never for a second did I think I could reach that epic score, ever.

After rolling the eleventh strike I realized that I had tunnel vision. I turned around and all I could see in the crowd of 30-40 people that had gathered to watch me was David Codding. I walked back and began talking to him very casually.

“Damn, dude…I always thought that you’d reach this plateau before me.” I grabbed my Pepsi, took a big swig, and then headed up onto the lane.

When I reached for my ball I saw my Dad’s wedding ring which I wear every day on my right hand. For the first time ever I decided that yes, I could roll a 300…and that I was gonna get it…and that I was gonna turn, point to the sky, and shout “that’s for you, Dad!”

I picked up the ball — which felt about double the weight it truly is — and took my spot.

I do not remember taking the steps towards the foul line.

I do not remember releasing the ball.

I remember feeling very, very nervous letting the ball go.

I do not remember the ball going down the lane…but I do recall the ball hitting right in the pocket.

…and the crash of the pins…

…and the single pin that remained standing…

…and the enormous shout of disappointment from the crowd of 50+ that had gathered…

…to watch me bowl…

…a 299.

Yep, missed it by one pin.

Wish you could have been there to see it.

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Will I ever shoot a 300? I doubt it. I keep the one elusive pin that refused to fall during that incredible run in my office at work. I’ll glance at it often, giving it the stink eye, but as my son Alex pointed out: “Dad? You’re a story teller…and what makes for a better story? A perfect game or the 299?”

And the kid’s right…the 299 does make for a much better story.