The Last Bowl

 The delivery was perfect, as was as expected. That curling hand delivery familiar  to all. The grounded bowl. The hush from the crowd. This was the bowl that could win the championship.

 It had been a stormy day. The journey to the opponents bowling green had been a long one. It was the end of the out-door season. It had been well fought, with ups and downs. The captain of the team maintained a stoic demeanour, he had seen it all before, but never to the championship level, here was a chance for glory. He was an old pro , the proud achiever of many local cup wins, but could this be the big one?

 His mind went over the team selection, there was a certain nervousness, he had selected all his best players, but at the last minute one had dropped out and he had no other choice than to call on one of the longest serving members - ah well, he sighed, its in the lap of the gods. He did not how right he was!

 The team trooped of the bus, there was no jocularity among the team or the supporters. There was no fun at this level, it was deadly, almost war. No room for mistakes or carelessness, there was always a moment to strike. Be positive was the mantra, but they all new that the moment the bowl was delivered it came under the control of

natural forces.

Many players left the mat and waved the bowl over. It was a natural thing to do but oh so idiotic. The rule was never leave the mat until the bowl stopped, but at the top level they ran down after the bowl to witness it’s position. It seemed to be in the nature of man to think he could control the inevitable!

 They changed into their whites in the club visitors room, some looking up at the winners recorded display. There was one name that gave them pause for thought - Jenks! Wasn’t he world champ. They hoped he was not available!

 And so it was out onto the club steps where the umpire awaited  them. He asked to check the date stamps on every bowl to see that they conformed to the rules. They were somewhat taken aback at this, their captain knew it for what it was - a bit of mind play.

 The clouds had cleared and a typical August day descended over the green.  Warm, no wind but with a hint of the approaching autumn. Jumpers would soon be on!

 The teams met and shook  hands in customary manner, wishing each other well. A coin was tossed, the call was heads, and the visiting team chose to start. The skips assembled  at the head of the green, and the game began. The mat was placed, the jack was delivered and the first bowl was sent on its way.

 And so the game proceeded, bowl followed bowl, at the eighteenth end the teams were even and the last bowl was down to Jacob. Jacob was 94 years old, he was from Poland were he and his family had born great injustice. He was a phlegmatic player, and not given to nerves. The rest of the team watched with bated breath as he bent to pick up his bowl, they could not but notice the stiffness in legs, but they missed the gleam in his eye.

The summer’s afternoon seemed to hold its breath, there was a hush in the pavilion. The tea lady paused holding the tea pot in the air as she was held spellbound for the outcome. The captain was consumed with dread as he considered the possible outcome, how he wished for a better player.

 It was swiftly done, but it seemed in slow motion to the crowd. The bowl slid between the others, nudged a competitors bowl and swung level with shot bowl. It seemed all was lost, when Jacob’s bowl rolled over on its side against the jack. A roar went up from the crowed, the tea lady spilled the tea.

The team stood dumbfounded, then ,as one, they turned to Jacob , who lay forward on the floor, prostrate in the manner of the delivery. They crowded round and then fell silent as they realised what the crumpled body implied. Jacob had departed to that great bowling rink in the sky.

 The captain accepted the cup and all the glory, but on the bus home he wondered whether Jacob had expired before the bowl came to rest, and how that would be interpreted within the rules of the game!
 He kept his council and never mentioned it, or thought of it, again.