Strike Face

The strike face is something I have known about for quite some time but have not known how to communicate. Since I now have a name for it, it is easier to describe in a way that all of you can relate to.

                I have gone bowling twice in the past month, and to be honest, I have been on top of my game. Last time I went was with my basketball team and we competed in teams of five. Glancing across at the other lanes I saw victory dances, heard obnoxious cheers of joy and encouragement, and felt the floor rumble with the falling of balls and pins. When I saw ten pins fall and the ‘strike’ sign appear on the scoreboard, I would look at the bowler only to see a face all too familiar to anyone who has ever been bowling; the strike face.

                Why am I writing about bowling all of a sudden? Have I found a new talent? Hardly. Have I found a new hobby? Probably not. Can I relate this to sex and relationships? You bet your ass I can.

                The strike face is a face showing much accomplishment, maybe even an increased sense of self-worth. It looks absolutely ridiculous. It is a cheesy grin which has failed to be hidden behind the lips of the proud. After a strike, amateur bowlers feel a pride much like that of William Wallace. An energy creeps up inside of them making them want to scream, “I am the king of the woooorrrlllddd!” Like Leo in Titanic. They can feel the biggest smile of their life begin to sneak onto their face, so they try to hide it but pressing their lips together as hard as possible. A strategy proven to fail time and time again.

                I have found that the strike face has been used in other aspects in life. When a man has finally ‘sealed the deal’ with a woman that is far out of his league, he has hardly put his pants back on before the strike face has made its way to the front of his head. “What?” She will ask you, with a sincerely negative tone. “Nothing J” You will reply, filling her with insecurity and probably making your chances of hitting it again multiply. Oh the world we live in.

                On Sunday morning when I catch up with my boys and get filled in on all the gossip from the past week (especially Saturday night), there are of course some proud moments. Before we have even said hi to one another, we know who has the best news – those sporting the ever-so-glamorous strike face. Even as they begin to recount their tale, they can’t wipe that smug little grin off of their face. It’s surprising they can even talk.