In what seems like a lifetime ago, I penned a piece for my first foray as a columnist in a bowling publication wondering why I’m a bowler; I came to certain conclusions. The competitive aspect was a draw. Overcoming the challenge of mastering a sport that on the surface seems so easy to learn yet so difficult to master was also a draw. And of course, the people in the sport were maybe the biggest draw of all to being a bowler. Yet, I always felt there was something else for me as well.

As the years have gone by, I started to get a little better grasp on what that something is. Bowling, by its nature, is fickle. It seems like the bowling gods can take away any little gain a bowler stumbles upon at the most inopportune times. That trip 4 pin for a much needed strike, that Brooklyn hit to help you catch a double, all of that can be erased the very next shot with a stubborn 10 pin or worse, a pocket 7-10. The bowling gods just have a very harsh sense of humor.

As a bowler that has gone through so many battles, I understand and have experienced that harsh sense of humor. I began to realize though, while I cannot change the will of the bowling gods, maybe I can at least help lighten the impact of the bowling god’s sense of humor for my fellow bowlers. I can give back to the game by coaching, counseling, administrating tournaments, advising pro shop matters, writing and passing on my experience from a lifetime of bowling, and sometimes just offering a sympathetic ear to those bitten by the devilish breaks handed down by the bowling gods.

But why is that important to me?

My dad was my first bowling coach, and beyond that, he was my dad. One of the things he always drilled into me was respect for the game and for my fellow bowlers. As a youngster, that manifested in me being very quiet as a tiny youth bowler. I bowled against kids much older than I during the early part of my youth bowling career, and I didn’t have the social experience to do anything but be quiet to show respect.

Later, as I grew older, I learned how challenging it was to show respect for the game when it seemed like the bowling gods did not respect my efforts – why did that 10 pin have to pop up when I needed to strike the most? I always had my dad’s voice in my head though, “To get respect, you need to earn respect.” I have tried to keep that in front of me my entire career as a bowler.

So, to honor my memory of my dad, I’ve been driven to give back to bowling. I understand that what I do, the way I do it, isn’t for everybody, nor should it be. For me though, this is what I believe I was meant to do. My personality, my culture outside of bowling, my dad, all pointed me to becoming what I am in today’s bowling world and why I am a bowler. I couldn’t wish for a better life.

Gary Yamasaki