I was involved in a highly frustrating game of bowls last night. Nothing too important, just an evening league with some friends. However, for some reason, my form totally deserted me. I had no rapport with the green, and each shot looked impossible as I stood on the mat. In my mind I knew what line and length to take... but for some reason, the bowls weren't obeying orders! Why should this be? Just five days ago, I played against two up-and-coming England bowlers, in the Denny Cup, the flagship indoor bowls tournament in the UK. I played well - the pressure was on - and I responded, after 4 hours of play my team lost narrowly, but it was a highly respectable result against such quality opposition. So why this sudden slump in form?
My working theory is that as you play a sport at higher and higher standards, it becomes very hard to get enthusiastic about bog-standard games of no import - games where you can lose, and nobody minds. If I'm put under pressure, in front of an audience, I know I can compete with the best, because the adrenaline is pumping, my mind is focussed 100% on the game, and everything else is irrelevant. A circus of performing monkeys could set up next to my rink, and I wouldn't notice, because the game is all that matters.
I've read several stories about really good bowlers (Tony Allcock is one), who now refuse to play in any non-competitive games, because they know that they only perform under pressure. What's worse, is that they are likely to get beaten by less talented players, who can then parade around, boasting that "I beat Tony Allcock". Clearly, this is undesirable. How, then, can players of this level practice between matches? From my observations, players of this standard tend to form gaggles, or cliques, with other like-minded, and similarly talented players. They will then practice together, go drinking together, travel to games together, and hopefully, play together as part of the same team. Almost every club has such people - an elite group - almost a "club within a club". They may get frowned on by the average player, who isn't interested in winning silverware, and they will almost certainly be grumbled about by people from other clubs, who come off worse in an on-green encounter. However, I firmly believe that without these groups of top players, the game as a whole would collapse. The top level of competitive play would cease to exist, and all we'd be left with would be a hearing-aid beige montage of sub-standard bowlers, playing amongst themselves to pass the time. The talented cabals, for all their pitfalls, are a pointer to a higher standard, and a magnet for competitive players. They are something to aspire to.
Which brings me back to last night's game. I'm not a particularly outstanding player, and am currently not part of a clique of top players (much as I would like to be). Last night was a reminder that bowls is an incredibly random game, which twists and turns at unexpected moments, so much so that betting on a bowls match is almost unheard of. It was also a reminder that getting annoyed at a bad shot will never, ever help you, or your team. It's these facts, and more, that makes the game so appealing, and keeps us coming back for more.
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