Little flash, but lots of class

Tiffany Brown

Doubles team members Brian Mar of Sacramento, left, and Michael Sagers of Salt Lake City watch James Allington of Sacramento roll one down an alley this week at Cashman Center during the United States Bowling Congress Open Championships. The event, which started in February and runs through July 24, is pegged as the world’s biggest amateur bowling tournament.

By Ron Kantowski (contact)

Saturday, April 25, 2009 | 2 a.m.

According to the official United States Bowling Congress Open Championships press release that went out Tuesday, “There is no news from the tournament site today.”

This is another reason why bowling is a great sport. When there’s no news, they don’t pretend there is. If only the publicists at the Strip hotels were like that.

On Wednesday, there might be news. Retired ballplayers John Burkett (12 perfect games — in bowling, not baseball) and Jeff Russell were out at Cashman Center, rolling strikes and spares in the 106th installment of the world’s biggest amateur bowling tournament.

How big? It started on Feb. 21 and won’t end until July 24.

But on Day 60 of 154, nobody was reunited with his birth mother more than 50 years after being adopted and met the four siblings he never knew he had, which is what happened to Lynn Rowland of Springfield, Ohio on Day 50.

Nobody was marking his 60th year of rolling strikes and spares at the Open, which is what happened on Day 57 when Anthony Malone of Erie, Pa., became the 12th bowler to reach that milestone.

Nobody got married, which is what happened to Blair and Daniel Hamilton of La Grange, N.C., on Day 13 (uh-oh).

Nobody rolled a 300 game, which is what Vincent Yoder of Wooster, Ohio did on Day 41.

Or even a 299, which is what James Craft on Indianapolis did on Day 55.

Nobody who has driven 300 or 299 mph in a race car rolled strikes and spares, which is 15 NHRA drag racers and crew members did on Day 41.

It was just one of those days.

Not even anybody who resembles somebody rolled strikes and spares, which is what happened on Day 8. (Or was it 9?).

“We got a phone call that Richard Petty was coming,” said Matt Cannizzaro, the USBC publicity guy who spends more time in bowling alleys than Walter Ray Williams and Ralph Kramden combined. “It wasn’t Richard Petty. It was just a guy wearing a Richard Petty Driving Experience shirt.”

On Day 60 of the USBC tournament, I didn’t see anybody who resembled Richard Petty or even Ralph Kramden. But I did see a bald guy wearing a bowling shirt that said “Rollie’s Barber Shop” on back.

I saw a sign that simply said “BAR” — and one beneath it that said “Prepare Your Team for the 2009 USBC Championships ... “

I saw a limousine painted in the Jerry Nugget’s colors, with bowling pins on the side. I heard the driver tell a bowler “You’re going to Jerry’s Nugget, right?” and the bowler reluctantly answer “yes,” as if he had just been ordered to steam to the Flemish Cap with George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg.

I saw two guys from Salt Lake City wearing pink bowling shirts slap high fives while rolling strikes and spares. Michael Sagers said he met Brian Mar (but not Molly Ringwald) at the annual Japanese American National Bowling Association tournament and they’ve been friends ever since (probably because nobody else will speak to them because they wear pink bowling shirts).

I saw a bowling ball called “Hot Sauce” and another one called “The Sauce.” When I asked Ed Schuler, the guy at the (Nothing Hits Like a) Hammer bowling ball kiosk, what the difference was, he didn’t say one was spicier than the other, even though he is from New Jersey where everybody cracks wise.

I saw this bizarre expression on Ed’s face when I asked if I could still buy a Black Beauty (which is the ball my old man used) at the Brunswick booth. He said they don’t make bowling balls out of hard rubber anymore. When I channeled my best “Fletch” impression and said “It’s all ball bearings now,” Ed said nope, it’s all reactive resin and plastic.

I saw a bulletin board with these little Post-it notes that said “I Need a Bowler.” When I asked a guy wearing a purple and gold LSU polo shirt and purple and gold LSU Crocs if that meant bowling teams were looking for replacements or ... something else, he said “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” Then he said “Geaux Tigers.”

I talked to a guy named Kenneth Maxson at the BAR as he and his teammates from Beaumont, Texas, were getting prepared for the 2009 USBC Championships. Maxson told me the first thing he was going to do when he got home was start emptying his refrigerator because hurricane season is coming, and that meat doesn’t keep very well in Beaumont during hurricane season. Maxson said last year he was without power for a month after Ike hit. “Is the best place to watch a hurricane from a safe distance?” I asked. “No, the best place to watch a hurricane is on TV,” he said.

I saw bowling balls with aggressive-sounding names such as “Twisted Fury” and “Psycho Acid” and “Rhino With a Migraine” but none called “A Lil’ Bit Bashful.” Matt Cannizzaro, the publicity guy, told me he has 11 bowling balls in his car and 44 in his dining room at home. None are called “A Lil’ Bit Bashful.” Wait a minute — did he just say he keeps 44 balls in his dining room? “I don’t want to put them in the garage, because the weather fluctuates,” he said.

I saw a bowling pin with the Denny’s logo on it that sells for $49.95.

I did not, however, see anybody buying one.

The hottest sellers, the girl behind the gift shop counter told me, are shot glasses, bowling bag tags and lapel pins with the USBC logo. “All the cheap stuff?” I asked. “All the collectibles,” she said. There’s a difference, I guess. Just like Hot Sauce and plain Sauce.

I saw these serious-looking guys at Bowling Ball Express, which is where you must take your bowling balls to make sure they are legal. It sort of resembles the security checkpoint at an airport. “What’s the most balls you can check in?” asked a beefy bowler with a mustache (I saw a lot of those, by the way). “Eight,” said one of the serious looking guys. “Just curious,” said the beefy bowler.

When he got to the front of the line, the beefy bowler pulled five bowling balls from his bowling bags. I know he had more in there, because these were the sort of bowling bags that would never fit in the overhead compartment, unless maybe it was The Spruce Goose. But the beefy guy didn’t pull out another ball or say another word, shuffling quickly to the right, like he had just ordered a bowl of mulligatawny from The Soup Nazi.

I saw a woman try to enter Bowling Ball Express with a bottle of Bud Light in her hand. It was like sirens that only dogs could hear started going off. One of the serious-looking guys held up a sign that said “No Food or Drink” and waved at it her, without so much as looking up. Then he measured three more bowling balls called “Big Bully,” “Ragin’ Banshee” and “Mass Chaos.”

I saw a guy wearing a bowling shirt that simply said “Joe Klimtzak” on back. I think he was with the Russians because he didn’t look like any of the Klimtzaks I used to pal around with in high school.

I saw a hallway lined with bowling-related booths that appeared to be doing brisk business. And one that wasn’t. Two scantily clad women from the Sapphires gentlemen’s club had a stack of little handbills with pictures of other scantily clad women on them, but most of the Joe Klimtzaks didn’t seem that interested.

I told the Sapphires girls not to worry, because there’s a guy wearing a purple-and-gold LSU polo shirt and purple-and-gold LSU Crocs still walking around in here somewhere.