Chapter 5 #2
Truett has yet to announce his next move, but scouts are waiting patiently to see what the young rising star does next.”
Well, damn. More facets of my father’s life I was unaware of.
Clearly, the two of them meant a lot to one another.
He was always helping kids learn the game.
It was his greatest passion. Even though Truett and I didn’t speak back then, I noticed how often he came around.
I thought it was just because he was crazy-obsessed with bowling.
I never realized it might have been because he loved spending time with my father and learning from him.
I scroll through a few more articles—newer ones this time—detailing Truett’s rise in the bowling world.
Tournament wins. Record streaks. The word “undefeated” comes up more than once.
I don’t usually keep up with bowling news, but I’m not completely in the dark either.
I know the rules, the history, just not the latest headlines.
By the fourth—maybe fifth—article, my phone pings with an incoming email. I exit the page and open my mail app, only to be met with a loading screen that drags on thanks to my terrible Wi-Fi. I wait, tapping my thumb impatiently against the edge of my phone until it finally loads.
The moment the subject line appears, the lingering taste of dinner on my tongue turns sour.
It’s from the USBC.
I put down what’s left of dinner on the bedside table and lean forward.
My finger hovers over the email. Is this how they tell me they no longer will be considering Spare Time for their tournament?
How will I tell my mom if they reject us?
She’ll pretend it doesn’t matter, but I know, since my father died, she has done everything in her power to keep our family’s legacy alive.
It has only gone downhill since Dad’s death.
When he left us, so did any hope for a resurgence for Spare Time.
People noticed. It’s why the alley’s popularity and draw have dwindled dramatically this year.
In my honest opinion, the whole plaza around Spare Time has taken a hit.
Sometimes, it feels like we’re the forgotten corner of Pflugerville.
Before I can stew any longer, I take the plunge and open up the email, immediately recognizing it's a generic letter sent out to multiple alleys. In this case, non-specific correspondence is a good thing. It means we still have a chance.
To whom it may concern,
You are receiving this email because your alley has a chance of hosting the 125th annual USBC Championship tournament being held on August 15th. This does NOT mean you have been selected as the winner, but are being considered a potential host.
It goes on to give a brief history of the tournament before listing the perks of being the chosen alley.
The selected alley will receive $15,000 in compensation and will retain all tips and all revenue from food and beverage sales on-site, in addition to any proceeds from merchandise produced in collaboration between the hosting alley and USBC.
I read that sentence again. Over and over. $15,000? With that kind of money, we could finally get ahead on our bills, maybe even fix up certain parts of the alley that need our immediate attention. It’s not a tremendous sum, but to us it would make the biggest difference.
We need it.
My mom deserves to see the alley restored to its former glory.
I read on, looking over the rules the USBC has included in the email. The third rule draws my eyes closer to the screen.
By agreeing to host, you will not take any bribe money, favors, and/or gifts from any competitor, agent, or affiliated persons. No person involved in the tournament can engage or fraternize with one another to gain leverage in the competition.
I can’t help but scoff. Have they had so many problems with people interfering with bowling competitions—maybe even fucking each other to get ahead—they needed to create a rule about it?
Apparently so. Unfortunately, this means Truett can no longer help me with Spare Time’s glow-up.
Not that I was going to accept his help… probably. Now, it’s a definitive no.
There are three more pages of rules I quickly scan over, but the ending to the email also catches my attention.
Please be advised that another preliminary walk-through of your bowling alley is required.
All walk-throughs will be scheduled for June fifth.
The alley may continue to have patrons; however, please ensure you are prepared to answer any questions the USBC representatives may have during their visit.
The inspection should take no longer than an hour. We wish you all the best.
And then it’s signed by the president of the USBC.
June fifth. That’s approximately a month from today.
I have thirty days to get Spare Time from its pathetic state to a fun, local hangout that might just welcome TV crews and a shit-ton of professional bowlers and coaches.
How the fuck am I going to do that? Already my head aches with the sheer amount of work this is going to take.
Even if I can somehow get the alley up to par, there’s still no guarantee it would get chosen.
But I have to try.
My tired brain can’t process all of this now. I can already feel my chest tightening and anxiety creeping through. For now, I push all thoughts of USBC, Truett, and the competition aside.
One night of rest is what I need. Then I can throw myself into the thick of it.
With that sobering thought, I reach to turn off my light and pull back the covers. By the time my head hits the pillow, I’m out in a dreamless sleep.