The Albino Bowler

Dick (The Albino Bowler) has enjoyed autograph signing and parades in Round Lake, Illinois and then humbling all those at The National Bowling Stadium in Reno Nevada as well as several other alleys along the way. He even returned to pay us a visit after several years on the road! What a guy. Currently, Dick wishes to play and to be seen at the numerous bowling alleys that have yet to see his talents. Be careful if he challenges you to a match. He is the best there is.

Now for a brief historical lesson.

The legend of the Albino Bowler began on a crisp October night in 1974, at a small 12-lane alley just outside of Roundlake, Illinois. League night was winding down and, as usual, some of the guys decided to stick around and roll a few games for money. About midway through the first game, the doors swung wide open and a pale figure with a bowling bag stood in the doorway. He walked in slowly, pointed at lanes nine and ten, then sat down to change his shoes.

The locals' games had all but stopped as they gazed at him with curiosity and amusement. They noticed that just above the stranger's breast pocket was a hand-stitched name: Dick. Paying no mind to their low murmurs and stifled laughter, Dick put a brace around his wrist and pulled a gleaming white bowling ball from his bag. He squinted at the lane for a few seconds, then took a slow steady approach and sent the ball speeding toward the pins. The ball rumbled out toward the ten board, drowning out the whispers and chuckles, then slammed back into the pocket with a thunderous crash. As the pins lay scattered, some still spinning from the force, Dick turned back toward the ball return, nodded and smiled.

For the next half hour, the locals were treated to an extraordinary display of bowling virtuosity. They watched in awe as he rolled strikes and picked up spares with an amazing array of shots, all executed with uncanny precision and artistry. He never said a word — he didn't even keep score, and he barely even noticed the spattering of applause when he was finished.

And then he was gone. Before the other bowlers could ask him to join their league he vanished out the door and into the night. Those who were there that night never forgot what they witnessed, and many people have since claimed to have seen his thick sideburns, steely pink eyes and gleaming white ball in some small bowling alley, in some small town on some memorable evening.

If you're lucky enough to be at one of the small town bowling alleys he chooses to visit, you're in for a treat. Soon everyone in the alley will be gathered around his lane to witness his extraordinary display of bowling virtuosity and his thick white sideburns.

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