Rollin’ with the big ballers in the alley

I stand up, clear my throat and recite: Down the lane I stare

Ball in hand. My body sweats.

Four steps, now ball rolls.

Sphere strikes hard ten pins shatter fast.

I bowl therefore am.

My haiku drowns in a deafening chant that rises from the back of the bus and flows out every straining window, “Barry! Barry! Barry!” The hooligans swing from seat to seat ritualistically chanting this man’s name with no regard for Chapter 214: Section 7B in Massachusetts state law against noise pollution.

Barry, the squad’s third best bowler, turns and glares at them ominously from beneath his baseball cap which is pulled dangerously low on his face. Just when I fear he will sprint to the back of the bus wielding his fists faster than his 14 pound Ebonite ball, he erupts into a contagiously good good-natured smile and accepts this public roast as gracefully as the anguish of a missed spare. And so another bowling trip has begun for the squad of pin annihilators known as the BU Bowling Association!

I remember our first trip like it was yesterday. My friend Paul and I were wasting away in the condemned abomination known as the Ham House for winter break. A slow Internet connection was impeding our porn consumption, so we needed entertainment more than a chapped lip needs Vaseline. Getting off the shady elevator, a flyer with a clever juxtaposition of two pins and a bowling ball struck our eyes like a cataract. It boasted a trip that drew a smile to our face and caused a riot in the happiness ward of our hearts.

Our first priority was to score some cash-money to make this $8 trip. Sitting in front of CampCo dressed up in my most “painterly” SFA duds, we raised more than enough in a mere two hours. “Poor lads,” people would say shaking their heads as they deposited a fin in our sad shaking coffee cups.

That Saturday we materialized at the Tsai Center with Hawaiian shirts upon our breast and a pair of filthy ‘70s crime-fighting specs (thanks, ladies) resting on the bridge of our noses. The first man we met was President Jon “Kingpin” Corda. He shook our hands and inquired, “Are you boys ready for the action-packed thrill ride of your life? This will be a Saturday spent with 20 bored freshman you won’t soon forget.” We were in like eggnog at a Christmas party.

The ride there was anything but normal. Serenades of the legendary Barry echoed throughout the bus, while people discussed serious issues like defecating on MIT in their upcoming head-to-TI87 competition. Paul and I sat in an intrigued daze enjoying the atmosphere.

We bowled alongside cruel pin crunchers with clever names like Hindu The Giant, Bilablow and Captain Suck Ass. While they molested frame after frame, we scarfed down lane pizza like it was going out of style. (Note: the pizza was made from 70 percent bowling ball.) After a strike, we spanked our own asses and did the bull-dance. Every time we rolled our balls into the gutter, we shrieked obscenities in defeated agony. Besides Barry threatening me for yelling, “Miss! Miss!” to the waitress while he bowled, three games flew by with few altercations and many laughs. Our first trip was successful as both Paul and I notched personal best performances. That day, we became proud members of the BUBA.

Doctor Jay prescribes a day of bowling for anyone out there feeling stale about his or her collegiate life. For the first time in my three years here at BU I have met a group of people who have helped me relive my vivacious days of youth (minus the eating of pennies.) They play games, and I speak not of the relationship games that drive us all to fits of masturbation and insanity. I speak of the games that make our hearts palpitate faster than sniffing gasoline.

There is room for everyone from the high game champion to the “I ain’t never bowled and I don’t even know what the hell it is” casual roller. Join the pros Niral, Christina, Paul and Barry for a day full of Nachos, bowling and boisterous cheers. You can count me in. If my appearance at the lanes isn’t enough for you to shake your Friday night hangover and join us, then keep this one thing in mind: Chicks dig a guy who has great ball control and knows how to hit the pocket. If you are not a member of this elite squad of 30, then you should show up. So be at the steps of the Tsai Center on April 21 at 1:45 p.m. to bowl with the greats. Check the stats at: http://people.bu.edu/kingpin.