A friend of mine invited me to watch and play a game called Bocce. I’ve seen it played from time to time but never really got close to the sport. At first I thought it was lawn bowling, and when I made that remark you could have heard a conolie drop.
So, while standing behind a boarded wall about waist high, I watched these guys engage in some of the most sobering competition I’ve seen in a long time.
I ’m not sure of the details of the game myself – I still don’t get it, but it seems that the closer you can get a rolled ball next to another ball that’s smaller, the better off you are. It’s like a cross between shuffleboard, curling, and lawn bowling. And I’ve been told the surface that these guys play off of is carefully constructed and takes hours to make and keep in top notch condition.
What got me were the measuring devices that they used to determine distances of someone’s rolled ball to the small ball. They used twigs, sticks and one older gentleman used a grape vine stem that his grandfather brought from Italy. And you talk about the seriousness of trying to measure without bumping or moving the crowd of rolled balls.
I was going to try my hand at it, but the last time I tried a cultural experience involving sports was with a sport called curling – and I made some joke about these guys with funny looking brooms sweeping ice. I was in the service at the time, and needless to say I …we, were asked to leave. I do remember it was cold … very cold.
I wonder if there’s a “Let’s Talk Bocce” site floating around out there. Now that’d be interesting!
Coach B.