Bowl Me Over

Tim walked into the Plaza Lanes Bowling Center pulling his four ball carrier behind him. It was moderately crowded for a Saturday, but he needed the practice and the manager always gave him a discount. It had been a few weeks since the fall bowling season had ended and Tim had decided to bowl in a spring league to stay sharp for the numerous tournaments that he had entered for the spring and summer. Tim was a very good bowler, certainly not good enough to be a professional, but he was one of the better bowlers in the city.

He went to the main desk and asked for a pair of lanes. Plaza Lanes was about thirty years old and had forty-eight lanes. Tim had worked there while in high school and college and was still good friends with the management, even though he didn't bowl there that often. He talked with Patrick Schobel, the weekend manager, for a few minutes before taking his equipment to lanes thirteen and fourteen.

As he was putting on his shoes, noticed a petite redhead to his left. It wasn't so much noticing her, but hearing the sound of the pins crashing when her ball hit them. He always took notice of good bowlers, male or female, when he practiced, and the sound of the pins being hit with authority piqued his interest. Tim was not prejudiced when it came to bowling with or against females. He liked to bowl with them, but it was rare when he found a female who could beat him.

After he put his bowling balls on the ball return, Tim stepped back and watched her throw her next ball. Her form was excellent, her arm swing straight and shoulder high, and her follow through was flawless. Her ball slid for about forty-five feet before it took a sharp left turn and crashed into the pins, sending them all flying.

Tim stepped up to the approach after picking up his favorite ball and studied his target. Stiff and awkward, he went through his delivery and threw the ball down the lane. It missed the head pin as the ball slid to the right. Tim came back to the ball return trying to stretch his arm and shoulder in hopes of loosening the muscles.

He heard another solid crash from his left and he knew from the sound that she had thrown another strike. He picked up his spare, feeling his body starting to loosen up a bit, and moved to the other lane. After a few more deliveries, he became more comfortable and began stringing strikes of his own. Glancing over her way from time to time, Tim began to admire her style and how well she bowled. He was duly impressed and stopped his own practice to watch.

She didn't appear to take any notice of him and continued her session. Every once in a while, she would miss her target and throw a bad ball, but it didn't happen very often. After one such errant toss, she came back to the ball return and looked at Tim.

"You won't learn much by watching me," she said in a soft, pleasant voice.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Tim replied, "you throw a very good ball."

She said nothing as she turned back to pick up her spare. Tim went back to his lanes and began practicing again, using different balls, speeds, and angles to make it tougher on himself. After five minutes or so, it was she who was watching as Tim's ball went right of his intended target and barely touched the head pin. He picked up the spare without difficulty and saw her watching him.

"You need to move your target in and your feet a few boards to the right," she suggested.

"I know," Tim replied, "I'm just trying different things right now. I can strike any time I want," he added.

"Oh really?" she said. "Let's see a strike, now."

"Which ball do you want me to use?" he asked.

She looked at his arsenal and pointed to a yellow, blue, and green swirled ball and said, "Use the Hammer Blade."

"Okay," he said as he put down the red ball that he had been using. "Which lane?"

"My lane, eleven," she replied, smiling, seeing if Tim would do it.

Nice smile, Tim thought to himself as he stepped over to lane eleven. Very nice. He lined himself up when he stepped onto the approach. He figured that the lane's oil pattern wouldn't be much different than what he was using, so he tried the same speed and angle he had used when he was striking consistently. The ball went squarely into the pocket as the pins went down quickly and into the pit.

"Impressive," she remarked, nodding her approval.

"Thanks," Tim replied as he waited for his ball. "The lanes seem pretty easy today," he added. He picked up his ball and started to return to his lanes.

"Well?" she said, after he had placed his ball back on the ball return with the others.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to challenge me to do it?"

"Challenge you? No, I think you could strike any time you really wanted to. You're really very good." Tim picked up another ball, stood on the approach, and threw another strike. Returning from his delivery, she was still looking at him with her soft brown eyes. Tim met her gaze and studied her momentarily. She was quite pretty, whomever she was. Her curly, fire-red hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she was wearing a North Texas State tee shirt and loose fitting jeans. She was thin and petite on top and her narrow waist flared out slightly to her hips. Tim was surprised that she could get that much power from her small body. "I would challenge you, however," he continued, "to tell me your name. I don't remember seeing you around before and I know most of the really good women bowlers."

She dropped her eyes from the face that she had been studying. She thought she had seen him before from somewhere, but she couldn't place him. "Well, you haven't seen me because I've been in school and I just graduated."

"North Texas?" he asked, pointing to her shirt.

"Yes, three years on varsity."

"It shows. What brings you back to Indiana?"

"My family's here and I didn't really care for the west that much. I figured I'd come back, get a job, bowl in a league this spring to keep in shape, and go from there."

Tim stepped towards her a few steps. "I'm Tim Rougeau and you are...?"

"Pleased to meet you, Tim," she replied, deftly avoiding telling him her name. She liked his looks and thought that he wasn't much older than she. She checked for rings, didn't see any, but you never knew with guys.

Tim sighed quietly. He glanced at her scoreboard above the lanes and saw the initials "SU" on the screen. He looked back at her and smiled. "I'll bet you a coke that you can't strike on your next ball. Use any ball you want."

Puzzled, she said, "Okay," and went back to her lanes. She picked out a ball, stepped on the approach, and threw another strike. The graphics on the scoreboard read, "Three strikes in a row for Sara Uttermolen!"

Tim chuckled to himself. "Nice ball, Sara," he grinned, proud of his discovery.

Sara smiled back, hands on hips, knowing he got her. Shaking her head, she went to the other lane and threw another ball while Tim resumed his practice as well.

After Tim finished his first game, he remembered that he owed Sara a drink. She was trying to pick up a difficult spare. After she missed it, knocking down three of the four pins, Tim asked, "Do you want that coke now or would you like something else? Beer? Water?"

"A coke would be fine. Thanks." Sara looked at him as he turned to leave. "Hey, Tim?"

Tim turned back to her. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you pay for your game and join me? I really don't like practicing by myself."

Tim nodded. "Okay, I'll do that." Minutes later, he returned, cokes in hand, and gave one to Sara before he moved his equipment to her lanes.

As he sat beside her at the scorer's table, he asked, "What spring league did you sign up for?"

"Mixed Classic on Monday night."

Surprised, Tim exclaimed, "Great! I'm in that league, too. Do you have a partner?"

"No. You?" She asked before she took a sip.

"No, I wanted to be surprised."

Sara thought for a few seconds about Tim, thinking she could do a whole lot worse if the lanes picked a partner for her. He seemed pretty nice and he was a really good bowler, so those were the positives. She couldn't think of any negatives.

She looked back at Tim, who was putting his name in the computer under hers. "Would you want to team up with me? Unless, of course, you still want to be surprised."

"I hate surprises," he grinned, thinking it would be fun to team with her.

"Good, I love competition even if it's on my own team."

"At least there'll be competition for you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there won't be much to keep me interested. Look, you're good, but..."

"Okay, okay," she interrupted, "so you're saying that I won't offer much competition for you, that I shouldn't even dare be on the same lane with you. Is that it?" Her eyes were narrowed and her nostrils flaring.

I've got a live one here, Tim thought as he looked at her. She's really pissed. He held out his hands, palms outward. "Whoa, I was only kidding," he said sincerely. "It was a joke."

Her expression changed almost instantly, her eyes going back to a softer brown as she exhaled audibly. "Well, that's a relief. I thought I was going to have an ex-partner before we even started!"

They resumed their practicing for the next half hour, offering tips and suggestions to each other throughout. They communicated well with each other and both were looking forward to bowling together in league play in two days. They ended their session with a friendly "serious" game whereby the winner got a dollar. They were fairly even throughout, but Sara got two strikes in the tenth frame to beat him 213-209. She gloated triumphantly and plucked the dollar bill from his hand after he took it from his wallet.

"Nothing like a gracious winner," he said, feigning disgust.

"And you thought I wouldn't give you any competition. Ha!"

Secretly, Tim wished he could say that he let her beat him, that he didn't try very hard, but she beat him fair and square and just bowled better when it counted.

"Okay, you think you're so good," Tim said, "how about we do this every night, a dollar per game and a dollar for high series? You'll only lose about forty dollars to me."

"You're on, buddy," she laughed. "You'll be lucky to win a game after I'm through with you!"

"Yeah, right."

They packed up their equipment and went to the front desk to pay. Tim paid for both, he insisted, and he asked Patrick to make them partners in the spring league, which Patrick promised to do. They walked to the parking lot where Sara's pickup truck was closest to the door. She placed her equipment in the bed and they talked for a few minutes before they left.

Driving home, Sara listened to the radio and hummed along happily. Her mind drifted back to Tim and their practice session and she smiled to herself. She was really glad that he was going to be her partner for the next thirteen weeks. She could use a little diversion from her ex-boyfriend, Scott, whom she broke up with a few weeks prior to her graduation and left him behind in Texas. Compulsive and controlling, he tried his hardest to keep her with him. But, she was not in love with him and didn't wish to continue their relationship, nor did she want to keep in contact with him. He was never physically abusive to her, but the mind games he continually played with her made that decision much easier. He could be nice at times, even sweet when the moment suited him, which was not often. They had met at the end of her junior year and had dated on and off for most of her senior year, but she found herself happier when she wasn't around him as much.

She was even happier that he hadn't tried to contact her since she returned to Indiana. It made it much easier for her to concentrate on her new job and finding a place to live. She certainly didn't want to live with her parents for too much longer since she was used to being on her own.

Sara was really looking forward to the competition of the league and with Tim. Since her collegiate career had ended, she still bowled occasionally, but the competitive fires still burned within her and she sensed that Tim was as competitive as she, no matter how laid back he appeared. He seemed like he was going to be a lot of fun, although Sara had no intention whatsoever of getting into another relationship. Not this soon, not when she was just getting settled into a routine. She just wanted to bowl and have fun.

"Nice ball," Tim said sarcastically after Sara's throw slammed through the head pin and left a huge split. Sara shook her head in disgust as she tried to figure out what she did wrong. Reading her puzzlement, Tim said, "You dropped your shoulder and eased up on your speed."

Sara nodded in agreement before she picked up two of the four pins left standing from her first throw. She had done well in her first two games, 198 and 221, but now, in the fifth frame of the third game, she was struggling with a 74. Tim had effortlessly put games of 217 and 233 together and had the first five strikes going in the third. The pace was fast and Sara barely had a chance to catch her breath before it was her turn again. Tim didn't strike in the sixth frame and settled for a spare. Sara cleared her mind as she stood on the approach and studied her target. She went into her delivery, the ball snapping off of her fingers as she rotated her wrist violently through her release. This is how she had generated so much power, Tim had discovered. She hit her target perfectly and the ball slammed into the pocket as the pins exploded with a crash.

"There you go!" Tim exclaimed. "You're back on it."

"Thanks," she said as she sat down at the scorer's table. That ball felt great, she thought to herself. She settled in the seat and watched Tim as he stood on the approach. Sara was enjoying herself very much. Their opponents were skilled bowlers, too, and she really enjoyed the competition. Tim was turning out to be an excellent partner. His observations and tips were top notch and he was as good a coach as any that she had in college. A big plus was his humor, which he employed judiciously, making fun of her as well as himself whenever he did bad. Tim picked up another spare and it was her turn once more.

They sat in a booth in the lounge waiting for their orders. Sara reached into her wallet and pulled out four dollars and handed them across the table to Tim.

"Ah, an ATM of my very own," Tim laughed as he took the money from her. He beat her 244-188 in the last game, taking the series total also.

"Don't get too used to that," she replied, "I just had an off night."

"There's nothing wrong with a 600 series," he said.

"I should have done better. I just couldn't get anything going with any consistency," she complained.

"Don't worry about it. We won all of the points, you got a 600, and I got four bucks from you. It worked out very well, I think."

"Yeah, you're right, except for the last part, though. That will change, starting next week."

"If you say so," he said, "but I might start to get used to getting paid every week. Heck, I might even quit my job and start living off of you."

"Yeah, right," she shot back, "four bucks a week will go really far for you." Their food arrive presently and they chatted about their bowling that evening and their plans for the fall and winter. Neither had signed up for a fall league, yet, but were exploring their options. They talked about music, other sports, and their jobs. Sara had recently joined the county MIS staff and worked with the adult probation department's computer system. Tim was a high school math teacher enjoying his three month vacation. Born and raised in the area, he taught at the same school from which he graduated six years earlier. He was also the school's varsity bowling coach, Sara found out, thus discovering his talent for helping her.

Before they knew it, it was going on ten-thirty and Sara had to get up early the next day. They paid their bills and Tim walked her to her pickup, this time putting her equipment in the bed for her. They walked to the driver's door and Sara unlocked it. She turned to Tim and said, "I had a good time. Thanks for the help. I'll be sure to win at least one game next week."

"I'll be looking forward to it," Tim said. "I guess I'll see you next week, then."

"Yep, see you then." She got into the truck as Tim stepped away and headed to his car. The wind started to whip up and Tim pulled his jacket collar up on this unusually cool May evening. He heard Sara's truck rumble to a rough start and turned to watch her pull away. He put his own equipment in the trunk of his car before leaving in the same general direction as his partner.

The next few weeks went by quickly and true to her word, Sara started to win games against Tim as her average steadily climbed. Tim stayed pretty much in the 215-220 average range, normal for him. As a team, they won more than they lost and were in the upper level of the standings as the seventh week of the season came upon them.

They stayed afterward each week for a bite to eat, now usually sharing a pizza, and they enjoyed each other's company. Almost everyone in the league assumed that they were a couple, but it simply wasn't the case. Even though it had crossed Tim's mind to ask her out, Sara made it clear from their discussions that she wasn't interested in dating anyone at that moment. They had developed a good, friendly relationship during those weeks and each were content to leave it at that for the time being.

Tim arrived early that evening to get his thumb hole widened at the pro shop before their bowling was to start. He had been having trouble releasing his ball lately and he felt that the change was needed. After the problem was corrected, he returned to the lanes to find Sara getting ready. Tim did a double take as he saw her place one of her balls on the ball return. She was wearing black dress pants and a snug fitting red polo shirt that showed off her petite figure nicely. Her wavy red hair hung loose instead of being pulled back. Tim let out a low whistle as he sat down.

Sara turned his way, arched a brow and said, "What was that for?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "I've never seen you in anything but jeans and tee shirts. You look really nice tonight. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," she replied, "I had to work late and I didn't have time to change." She smiled to herself from the compliment.

Tim had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. She was wearing a small amount of makeup that really brought out her dark brown eyes and her slacks hugged her hips sweetly. Throughout the evening, Tim found himself concentrating more on her than on his own game and his scores suffered slightly because of it. And he was more interested in Sara's derriere on the approach than paying attention to her game and how she was throwing.

After the second time in which she asked him a specific question about her game and he couldn't give her a substantial answer, the realization struck her that he was more interested in her than her game that evening. He apologized and promised to watch her game more closely the next time. And he did, offering a suggestion that helped her immediately. From that moment on, he made a true effort to concentrate on her game and less on her butt. He scolded himself for getting worked up, but heck, she was the first girl he had been interested in since Janice.

Afterward, he was unusually quiet as they shared their customary pizza. He had bowled bad, they were beaten badly by the other team, and Sara won two dollars from him.

"What's up?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh nothing," he replied absently, preoccupied with thoughts of her and Janice. He couldn't believe he let her back in his mind again. "Just thinking, that's all."

"I can give you the two bucks back," she said, hoping to amuse him.