March Madness

Nearly every March for a decade or more, I indulge in a sports activity with a long-time friend.  Like the NCAA tournament, it does include a ball, but our game uses one of the 12 to 16-pound variety with finger holes in it.  We go bowling.  Alex and I have known each other since he was fourteen.  He turned 37 this year, but the Alex I know is essentially unchanged from what I suspect he was like at eight or ten.  He has simple thoughts, simple interests.  I don't know what his malady is, other than he seems to have been blessed with a dip in the fountain of Eternal Youth.  Alex is physically growing older, but he will never grow up.  Alex is one of the most cheerful people I know.

I met Alex when he showed up at a youth function at the church I was attending.  I was one of the adult volunteers.  That night, Alex was eager to demonstrate his knack for shooting a basketball from half-court.  Alex did not then or now have the coordination to play competitive basketball, but he had the unique ability to lob in half-court shots more often than anyone else I knew.  Alex and his mother began faithfully attending church.  I would often give him a ride to youth functions where Alex would make time for us to try half-court shots.  For a few years, his life was a simple routine of school and church.  Somewhere along the way, I found out when his birthday was and that bowling was his favorite past-time.  With my brilliant grasp of the obvious, I decided to take Alex bowling for his birthday one year.  Before I met him, Alex bowled regularly and would rack up close to 200 points a game the first few times we went.  My scores were less noteworthy.

A couple of years after he graduated from high school -- although I am not sure what his graduation meant, exactly -- we moved to another town and began attending another church.  Rather than let distance be an obstacle, Alex would call every so often to check up on me and tell me how people we both knew were doing.  He would also tell me about his struggles at work.  There are many programs for limited-ability adults to gain employment, but the complexities of pleasing managers and coworkers often stumped Alex who didn't understand why people weren't always nice.  Over the years, a pattern developed.  I might not hear from Alex for months, or even all year.  But without fail, sometime in the middle of February, the call would come.  Alex would never ask me directly to do anything, but he would always let me know his special day was coming up.  

And so began our March tradition.  Bowling once a year does not develop any appreciable skill.  Over the years his lack of practice has brought him back down to my level where we consider breaking 100 an achievement.  But, it isn't really about the bowling.  The bowling is just a way for Alex and I to hang out together, for me to be reminded of how important it is to be a consistent friend.  When next March rolls around, and sports fans are watching college basketball, I will be looking forward to another day of camaraderie at the bowling alley with Alex.