PeterB
Elite Armchair Athlete
As written by Don Carter.
ERV HOINKE'S Western Bowl in Cincinnati, Ohio, is one of the sports Midwest meccas.
Every year, thousands of players make the trip to compete for the big money offered in Hoinke's long running tournaments. And every Thanksgiving, around 1,200 of the countries gutsiest amatuers show up to bowl for the $100,000 first prize in the Hoinke Super Classic, a scratch match-game double elimination event. As is often the case at these tournaments, there is plenty of late night action. It's like a convention for hustlers.
I guess it was about 1984 or 1985. I was sitting in the stands watching the action. It was the only thing to do because I was out of money. I've never cashed at Western Bowl. Hell, I don't think I've ever thrown a 200 in that place. Another cold, grey, dreary holiday in Ohio for me.
THE SETUP
It was well passed midnight. There had been a PBA tournament up in Cleveland or Columbus earlier in the week, because some of the pros who hadn't made the finals showed up to take on some of the amatuer hotshots. The lanes were bone dry and no one was dominating. The good players were getting 50' of scorch and 10' of roll out. The weaker players couldn't hit the head pin.
At this point, Norm Duke walked in with a buddy. Word spread quickly and heads started turning. Norm had only 1 PBA title under his belt at the time, but he was considered one of the best action bowlers in the country. Duke wandered and talked and shook hands, but it was clear nobody wanted a piece of him.
"Oh, well," I heard him tell his buddy "If you can't get action, create action." He then got himself a pair of lanes and put on his bowling shoes. But his was no normal practice session.
THE STING
Duke pulled a towel out of his bag. It was larger than the towels bowlers always steal out of their hotel rooms. He carefully placed the towel on the approach and positioned his ball in the middle of the towel. Then he gathered up the four corners and carried the ball as if it were in a sling. He took a normal approach to the foul line and loosened his grip on the front corner of the towel just as it passed his leg. The ball wobbled lazily into the gutter.
"Man, they're hooking," he said as he walked back to the ball return. I watched him take a few more shots this way. Each time, he experimented with the placement of the finger holes as the ball was sitting on the towel, as if there was a magic way to position the weight block. Well, sure enough, after a few experiments, Norm was able to get the ball to slowly lope down the lane and sort of flip in front of the pocket.
Naturally, by this time, quite a crowd had developed behind Duke's pair of lanes. A few guys had pooled their money and were willing to bet that Norm couldn't beat a particular score by slinging the towel. I think it's best not to devulge the dollar amount, but the score to beat was in the mid-150s.
The guys were convinced Duke would have trouble shooting spares. For awhile, it looked as if they were right. Norm had several open frames in the middle of the game, but managed to mark in the 10th and beat the target by 2 pins. The crowd was ecstatic. They had lots of time to root the ball on as it crawled down the lane.
The bet was doubled for game 2 and the target score raised by a mark. Norm beat it again by a handful of pins after doubling in the 8th and 9th frames. It was bedlam. Sidebets were flying. Again, the bet was doubled and the target score raised.
About halfway through the 3rd game, the ball went light and barely shook out the 5 pin on what would've been the 5 - 7 split.
Dukes buddy leaned over and whispered to me, "He's so cocky I bet he wishes it had stood. He'd love to pick that up in front of this crowd." As the game progressed, Norm was clearly on pace to beat the target score. He had to mark in the 10th to take the cash. He gathered the ball up in its cradle and took a deep breath. There was a lot of money on the line. Things got real quiet. Duke shuffled to the line and eased the ball beautifully toward the pocket. It was a weak hit, though. Eight pins went into the pit except the 5 - 7. The crowd groaned.
Duke walked back to the ball return. His buddy and I shared a glance. This time, there was no hesitation at all. Norm wrapped the towel around the ball and casually chucked it down the lane. He knew he had it at 30' and so did the crowd. It was a perfect conversion and, to my mind anyway, a flawless hustle.
Norm Duke made a lot of money that night. He made it in less than one hour. And he did it without ever having to put his hand in the ball.
ERV HOINKE'S Western Bowl in Cincinnati, Ohio, is one of the sports Midwest meccas.
Every year, thousands of players make the trip to compete for the big money offered in Hoinke's long running tournaments. And every Thanksgiving, around 1,200 of the countries gutsiest amatuers show up to bowl for the $100,000 first prize in the Hoinke Super Classic, a scratch match-game double elimination event. As is often the case at these tournaments, there is plenty of late night action. It's like a convention for hustlers.
I guess it was about 1984 or 1985. I was sitting in the stands watching the action. It was the only thing to do because I was out of money. I've never cashed at Western Bowl. Hell, I don't think I've ever thrown a 200 in that place. Another cold, grey, dreary holiday in Ohio for me.
THE SETUP
It was well passed midnight. There had been a PBA tournament up in Cleveland or Columbus earlier in the week, because some of the pros who hadn't made the finals showed up to take on some of the amatuer hotshots. The lanes were bone dry and no one was dominating. The good players were getting 50' of scorch and 10' of roll out. The weaker players couldn't hit the head pin.
At this point, Norm Duke walked in with a buddy. Word spread quickly and heads started turning. Norm had only 1 PBA title under his belt at the time, but he was considered one of the best action bowlers in the country. Duke wandered and talked and shook hands, but it was clear nobody wanted a piece of him.
"Oh, well," I heard him tell his buddy "If you can't get action, create action." He then got himself a pair of lanes and put on his bowling shoes. But his was no normal practice session.
THE STING
Duke pulled a towel out of his bag. It was larger than the towels bowlers always steal out of their hotel rooms. He carefully placed the towel on the approach and positioned his ball in the middle of the towel. Then he gathered up the four corners and carried the ball as if it were in a sling. He took a normal approach to the foul line and loosened his grip on the front corner of the towel just as it passed his leg. The ball wobbled lazily into the gutter.
"Man, they're hooking," he said as he walked back to the ball return. I watched him take a few more shots this way. Each time, he experimented with the placement of the finger holes as the ball was sitting on the towel, as if there was a magic way to position the weight block. Well, sure enough, after a few experiments, Norm was able to get the ball to slowly lope down the lane and sort of flip in front of the pocket.
Naturally, by this time, quite a crowd had developed behind Duke's pair of lanes. A few guys had pooled their money and were willing to bet that Norm couldn't beat a particular score by slinging the towel. I think it's best not to devulge the dollar amount, but the score to beat was in the mid-150s.
The guys were convinced Duke would have trouble shooting spares. For awhile, it looked as if they were right. Norm had several open frames in the middle of the game, but managed to mark in the 10th and beat the target by 2 pins. The crowd was ecstatic. They had lots of time to root the ball on as it crawled down the lane.
The bet was doubled for game 2 and the target score raised by a mark. Norm beat it again by a handful of pins after doubling in the 8th and 9th frames. It was bedlam. Sidebets were flying. Again, the bet was doubled and the target score raised.
About halfway through the 3rd game, the ball went light and barely shook out the 5 pin on what would've been the 5 - 7 split.
Dukes buddy leaned over and whispered to me, "He's so cocky I bet he wishes it had stood. He'd love to pick that up in front of this crowd." As the game progressed, Norm was clearly on pace to beat the target score. He had to mark in the 10th to take the cash. He gathered the ball up in its cradle and took a deep breath. There was a lot of money on the line. Things got real quiet. Duke shuffled to the line and eased the ball beautifully toward the pocket. It was a weak hit, though. Eight pins went into the pit except the 5 - 7. The crowd groaned.
Duke walked back to the ball return. His buddy and I shared a glance. This time, there was no hesitation at all. Norm wrapped the towel around the ball and casually chucked it down the lane. He knew he had it at 30' and so did the crowd. It was a perfect conversion and, to my mind anyway, a flawless hustle.
Norm Duke made a lot of money that night. He made it in less than one hour. And he did it without ever having to put his hand in the ball.
