The 300 Game

It was a Wednesday night, and the lanes were abuzz with the business of bowling. The sounds of pins falling and the aerosol scent of shoe spray filled the air. Popcorn bags were being crumpled and thrown into the trash and pretzels were being doused with nacho sauce. Most of the bowlers at the lanes that night were from the university intervarsity league. All friends with eachother, they were too busy chatting to notice the series of strikes being marked on the overhead at lane six.

J--- was in the zone. Whispers started to pass through the crowd, spreading as a rumor from person to person. His friends were keeping score, diligently marking every frame with an X as J--- bowled. His concentration locked, he hardly looked up at the small group of people who had gathered to watch.

His friends from the bowling league were amazed. Whispers of excited disbelief could be heard every now and then. J--- was a fine bowler, but he wasn't the one everyone expected to be having this type of game.

Nine X's were marked on the overhead. It was J---'s turn to bowl. He picked up his ball, adjusted his grip, and settled his gaze down the lane. Step, step, step, throw. Silence in the lanes, only the sound of J---'s bowling ball sliding down the finely waxed hardwood. A thunderous racket as the ball struck and all ten pins were thrown about.

One of the onlookers started to cheer. "Don't. You'll break his concentration," hushed his friend. Another X was marked up on the board and everyone was on pins and needles waiting for the ball return.

One more time a collective gasp as the crowd held their breaths and J--- sent the ball down the lane. One more time all ten pins came tumbling down.

They were going to see a perfect game. He was one strike away from giving them all an incredible story to tell again and again when they gathered for tournaments or hit the bar after league practices.

The final roll, everyone's eyes locked on lane six. It was a textbook roll. The approach, the release, the spin on the ball, the fact that no pins were left standing.

A roar rose up in the alley. J--- turned around, his eyes wide, his forehead furrowed.

"Uh... guys?" He started to say, motioning for quiet. "Yeah... I actually had my friends marking the real score on paper. They put strikes on the overhead no matter what. I just happened to roll the last three strikes."