Spring is here and ain’t it grand! I can muck about in my garden; I got

to spend a fortune at the Cedarcrest Horticulture Plant Sale and the

Duvall Civic Club sale. I can work out my aggression on the slugs. School is

almost over … well, I guess not even close … but I can dream about

school being over. Best of all, my bowling league ended.

Every Friday night since September, I have been bowling in a

mixed- doubles bowling league at SunVilla in Bellevue. This is not

“Bellevue Square” Bellevue, more like

the Renton of Bellevue. Working class Bellevue. I am talking about the

side of Bellevue you never see, beer, cigarettes and pull tabs. That is

SunVilla Bellevue. Mix into the ambiance a little bowling and you have my

Friday nights.

I never bowled as a kid; I got into this by marriage. It came with the

ring. My ever-lovin’ husband worked at the bowling alley as a kid. He has

been bowling ever since he could walk. All his family bowls, mom, brother,

sisters … the whole shebang. So when I said my sacred vows, somewhere

in the fine print was a requirement that until death do us part … I bowl.

Every week.

My ever-lovin’ husband is a good bowler. High score this year is a

253. Three hundred is a perfect game. I am a lousy bowler. Always have been,

always will be. My average score is a 130, and this is after fourteen years

of bowling every week! Bowling for me is just another night of public

humiliation.

My bowling league is a tough crowd. You know nothing

shames them just by their team names: Handicapped, The Jerk+3, Outhouse 5,

Split Happens. Not that our team name is any better; we are “Four Play with

One Watching.” Sick huh? Anyway, you would think after all this time

together, we would be kind to those who have a rough night. Not my team. They

go for the jugular vein.

First off are the penalties. After you bowl nine games, you get an

“average” score. The average adjusts up or down, depending on how well

you bowl. On my league, some averages are up around 200. I have only

bowled a 200 game once and that was a fluke. Once your average is set, my team

assesses penalties depending on how close you get to your average.

Ten points under for a game and it costs you a buck. Twenty points under

and it costs you five bucks. At the end of 33 weeks of bowling, we had

over $300 dollars in the kitty and I know half of it was mine!

Paying to lose is bad enough, but that is not enough pain for my

team. No, they make bets on me. Not nice ones, like can she get a 200 game.

No, the money hits the table when I am bowling badly. More like ” I bet

$5 she won’t even get 100 pins this game.” I expect this kind of

treatment from the other couple we bowl with, but even my husband bets against

me. He usually wins. Once I am out of the zone … I am in the gutter.

Oh, but that is not enough punishment for me. Next comes the

“trade.” My team including my *#@*

husband have tried to trade me to the opposing team many times. Once they

offered $10 and me in exchange for an 80-year-old player that smelled

funny. They were turned down flat. She was a better bowler than me, by far.

After all these years, it has become a league tradition. Torturing

Kate. Other teams bring their mothers, sisters and friends to heckle me. My

own friends turn up occasionally to point and laugh. I tell my kids that

winning doesn’t matter. If I only did what I was good at, I wouldn’t golf, bowl or

be their mother. But now things have gone too far. At the

end-of-the-year banquet they gave out a new award. The “Kate” award, given to

anyone who bowls a game under 100 pins. They get a certificate and

everything. I got five. One other bowler got one and it was his first year bowling.

HA HA.

My husband won’t let me quit. He likes bowling. There are some

good things about bowling in our league. The people are really nice most of

the time. It is just when things go wrong that they turn on me like starving

dogs looking at a steak. And that is usually my own team. So I will enjoy

my spring and I won’t think about bowing until September. Unless I am

killing slugs. Then that little slug just may have a name, a name that is the

same as my teammates’ names. Killing slugs, that I am good at.

Kate Russell lives between

Carnation and Duvall.

You can reach her at her e-mail Katemo1@msn.com.