Going from bad to worse on the bowls green.

The bowls green may be flat, but my skill on the green has rolled quickly downhill since playing as a member of the Redland City Bulletin Bravehearts in the corporate bowls competition at Cleveland.

To my credit I have not played all the games. Ours is a shared game with any would-be bowlers putting their hand up for a few ends on a Friday night.

My first play was in the second season when the former players had brought our team from place getters in the second division to a spot playing in the first division.  Enter the novice, playing her first game against the reigning champions in division one. I knew I was in for trouble the moment I saw that this team wore matching t-shirts. 

I learned quickly about wind conditions and too much grass and not enough grass and weight. I glibly talked the talk, trying hard to offset my playing deficiencies with a startling and familiar grasp of the bowling lingo.  

But there was no pulling the grass over the eyes of the first division. That season we won the wooden spoon and were ceremoniously demoted to our former division.  It was a short but glorious time at the top.

On returning to play, I forgot my earlier skills, not even checking for big and little owls (circles) on the bowl before hurtling it down the green.  Enter another coach who taught me the stationary starting position. My owl balls fluttered off into all sorts of startling places until someone pointed out that my left handed coach had shown me the left handed static start while I bowled with my right. The scorer confided that my bowls didn't have an inbuilt GPS.

"Do bowls have GPS's?" I said, cementing my position as someone who should stay off the green at all times.

Surely we could afford an off night or two. We were after all medal winners in this division.

We scored again but this time the medal didn't have a red or blue ribbon. This medal matched that gained in division one.  And so in another season of play, we managed to sink even lower.  I'm sure that the hard working volunteers at the bowling club are thinking of creating a division three just for us.

I showed the two losing medals to my father (himself an avid bowler)  who congratulated me with pride. As the son of State (Victoria) champion bowlers, he probably thinks the gene has been passed on.  My only hope is if a GPS is actually installed.