‘Patting the cat’ not so easy
There are not many sports I am not keen on watching. I’ll sit through a full cricket test, or get up at ungodly hours to watch English Premier League football.
But two break the mould: golf and bowls.
I don’t know if it’s the pace, genteel nature, or the commentators’ tones, but I find the viewing dull.
I have played a few rounds of golf. I’m not going to be challenging Tiger Woods’ records anytime soon, but it was a hell of a lot of fun.
But what is there to bowls? It’s just picking up a ball and rolling it towards the other ball, right?
My illusion of becoming the Happy Gilmour of the sport was quickly destroyed, however, after an hour under the eye of Barry Wynks.
Wynks started off as an accomplished table tennis player, but these days is best known for winning two Commonwealth Games silver medals in triples bowls.
He is also a very, very, very patient teacher.
The concept of bowls is simple. You have balls you need to roll along a green to get them close to a different ball called a jack. Someone else tries to do the same thing. The one closest to the jack gets points.
Reality, though, is so much more complicated. The bowls are weighted differently on each side. It’s known as the bias and explains how bowlers can get a bowl to curl.
Most sets of bowls have clearly defined sides. Some of the ones Wynks got me to play with, though, were not so obvious.
While most of my first bowls went out before curling in, one went the other way thanks to me mixing up the sides.
‘‘That’s a Heineken shout,’’ Wynks hollered at me.
But a more frightening scenario awaited, once Wynks got me playing a game.
I quickly made no points, while my opponent got to 17.
The game ends when someone is on 21 points and it is possible to score four points at once. The punishment for not scoring any points? An undie run across the green.
My problem was my pace. While 10-pin bowling is about hurling it down the lane, lawn bowls is much more delicate.
‘‘You’ve got to pat the cat,’’ Wynks says.
Not the best advice to give a dog owner, but it made sense. I almost drop the bowl, giving it the slightest nudge to encourage it along the green.
A tortoise would have moved faster than the bowl as it drunkenly wobbled out before curling towards the jack.
The tension climbed as I waited for the bowl to stop its run. It was mere inches from the jack.
The pants stayed on, while I hurriedly made my way off the green.