Words by Werner Splitz

“The more I practice, the luckier I get.” – Gary Player, golfer

“Who do you think you are? I am!” – Pete Weber, bowler

“I could’ve scored higher! I could’ve knocked down more, but I didn’t!” – Oskar Pindler, in my ill-advised and currently banned bowling-themed film remake Pindler’s Splits

Throughout the history of sports, one element has persisted: the people love an underdog. It is much more satisfying to, as you say, ‘root for the little guy’. That is why the concept is so prevalent among sports films – Rocky was an underdog. Die Starken Wasservögel were a team of ice hockey-playing underdogs. Air Bud was an underdog, or more literally an overdog considering the height he could get on a dunk. It’s the reason my beloved East Germany* was never the most popular on the world stage; we were simply too powerful at the Olympics for the common person to relate to such feats of Teutonic might.

*Düsseldorf is, of course, the Splitz home city and a wonderful place, but I was born in Baden Guttern, a remote village in the Ore Mountains. It was where I first learned to bowl, as the rock formations just outside of town created perfect natural gutters. For every gutterball, my father would beat me with multiple lederhosen tied together to form a kind of makeshift whip. Oktoberfest is still a difficult time of year for me.

The King Pins, my adopted Premier League Bowling family, came into the league as underdogs. Have they proven to be just as capable as the other three powerhouse teams in the league? No. Have they fought valiantly to a close finish in their games, gaining the respect of their peers? Also no. But, in the fourth game of the season, they put on one hell of a show.

I catch up with the team in a state of elation, still reeling from the night’s events. Sheriff is firing her six-guns at the Rowan’s DJ booth, causing staff to return fire. Woof is covered in his own drool. The Diddler informs me, ominously, that things are going to get ‘handsy’, a statement that his lawyer asked me not to print. I ask Barry/Paul Chuckem whether this is a turning point for the team while he’s at the bar ordering his third signature drink of the night: a lager shandy, 20% beer and 80% lemonade. He replies, slurring – ‘four in a row! What’s bigger than a turkey? A crab! No, that’s smaller. A whale! No, that’s too big. What’s the bird that’s like an ostrich but not? Come back to me.’

He was, of course, referring to the defining moment of the season so far: T-Ball’s incredible, unprecedented four strikes in a row. The King Pins came in to this game with nothing to lose. Quite literally – they remain so far behind in the league that they can only finish in last place. The team performance was a mixed bag, as it always is with this team – Bazooka and Barry/Paul logged solid scores, but I witnessed the Sheriff telling the Chuckems that she’d get Woof put down if he couldn’t crack 100 next time. But the second game of the night is the kind of spectacle that reminds me why I got into Bowling and Lawn Games journalism in the first place.

T-Ball, having already scored high in the first game, hits a big strike in his fifth frame. On the sixth frame, he does it again. Murmurs start to spread across the lanes. The other teams stop their bowls and gather round the King Pins lane, holding their breath in anticipation. Six players from across the league are later hospitalised after holding their breath for too long, but T-Ball finally strides to the line and rockets the ball to a turkey. The crowd erupts; Pinter, Riders and Pin City players joining the King Pins in celebration. It’s euphoric, the kind of moment that can mend the 7/10 split in the heart of humanity.

And then he gets a fourth.

Frustratingly, even with my unlimited access to and rapport with the King Pins, T-Ball, a man I considered my brother in arms, immediately gave an interview to the ‘established’ media rather than yours truly. Do the team still see me as an outsider, after all we’ve done together? I hide out in the Diddler’s van for a few minutes to have a brief cry, and head back inside.

‘This is what Premier League Bowling’s all about’ said Sheriff, bullets pinging off the plastic table we were ducking behind. ‘It’s not about winning. It’s about connection, and making memories.’ I correct her in that it is very much about winning, a league would be meaningless without some sort of points structure, but I accept her thesis. I try to interview Bazooka but he was passed out in one of the karaoke rooms halfway through a performance of ‘My Heart Will Go On’. Woof is missing, apparently getting ‘neutered’ by an unscrupulous black-market doctor. I leave the team to their merriment.

Game five, while less dramatic, demonstrated the King Pins’ commitment to inclusivity. Two new players make their debut – Check Mate and the Surgeon. After seeing their performances, I’m suspicious that they are actually two more victims of the Chuckem Brothers people trafficking ring, but I was informed that they’re just ‘warming up’. I meet another player, Rosamund Strike, for the first time and am surprised to note that she is much taller, hairier and obviously Balkan than she is in the movies.

‘Anyone who messes with us is going to be Gone, Girl’ she tells me. I chuckle politely. ‘I take a lot of PRIDE in my bowling, and knock down those pins with extreme PREJUDICE’ she says, winking. I confirm that I get it, and it’s very amusing. ‘We’re bottom of the league now, but we’ll live to Die Another Day!’ I tell her that one doesn’t make much sense and I beg her to stop, but she follows me to my car and doesn’t stop until I run over her foot.

The stakes are high for the final game of the season. Not for the King Pins, of course, they’re very far behind. But it’s a big finale for the league, still reeling from the introduction of a fourth team – and, more importantly for me, my last game embedded with the team before I’m called back to Düsseldorf. The team might be ready, but am I?

This is Werner Splitz, reporting from Finsbury Park.