The St. Patrick's Invitational Tournament took place this weekend. The guys did a good job pulling the event off, considering that the director did nothing all year, finally resigning and leaving town three weeks before the event.
While he didn't do anything, the director of the tournament has a thankless job. I know -- I was director twice during the early years of the event. The director recruits volunteers to be responsible for specific tasks such as hospitality chair (finding a host hotel and negotiating a good group rate), fundraising chair (seeking sponsors and generating other sources of revenue), banquet chair (negotiates per person rate for the meal, venue, etc.). Each chair is responsible for a significant portion of the total event. If the volunteers do their jobs, the tournament should go off without the normal last minute Murphy's Law things.
So, kudos to the couple of people who pulled off what usually takes seven or eight all year to do.
The reason I titled this post "turdament" has nothing to do with the event itself. It has to do with my dismal performance on the lanes. Bartlett Lanes apparently decided to fully oil the lanes with Vaseline, Crisco, or Wet. My Hammer Black Widow that usually arcs flawlessly into the pocket was basically a skidding rock all weekend. I might have done just as well with a rock. In fact, most people I talked to who bowl with any curve/arc/fingertip had a helluva time getting anywhere near their averages. One guy who regularly bowls on our league with an average in the mid-180s bowled 114 for his first game in singles. While my scores weren't nearly that far below my average I was frustrated at bowling 10 to 15 pins below my 182 average for six of the nine games over the weekend. You have to at the very least bowl your average if you even want a shot at placing in any of the awards categories.
High game: 205. Poopie. Guess I'm saving up my good bowling for Sunday night's league. We're still in first place with a comfortable 5 game cushion between us and the second place team.
I guess I should be thankful I didn't go home with one of the hand-decorated with kelly green glitter high-heels mounted on a painted black chunk of 2" X 4" that serve as last place trophies. I already have one in the attic from our fourth annual tournament -- my first year as director.