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Part I
“I’m telling you, bowling is NOT a sport,” Ressler said, thumping his fist on his desk emphatically.
Aram glared at him from across the room. “Yes, it is a sport. Bowling requires physical dexterity, strength, technique and strategy. All things that are required by SPORTS.”
“Aram, bowling is something middle aged men do on weekends as an excuse to drink beer and smoke cigars without their wives being around.” At this point Donald was just having fun.
“Are you two STILL having this discussion?” Samar stopped at Ressler’s desk, looking over at her boyfriend skeptically. “How old are you?”
“Tell him bowling is a sport,” Aram instructed imperiously.
“Um, bowling is a sport, Donald,” Samar said without a trace of sincerity.
Aram was preparing to explain AGAIN, the merits of knocking down twelve pins with a heavy round object when the gate to the elevator opened and Raymond
Reddington sauntered in, followed by his ever-present body-guard and friend Dembe Zuma.
“Mr. Reddington, would you say bowling is a sport?” Aram asked, hoping to get another person on his side.
“Well, there was this one time in 1982 when…”
The entire room broke out in a series of pained groans at having to be subjected to another rambling story of times gone probably involving NOTHING to do with the topic at hand.
“What?!” Ray asked, feeling the less-than-hospitable mood of the room.
Dembe snickered behind him.
“Yes, bowling is most definitely a sport,” Ray answered a bit sourly.
“You know what would settle this dispute for good?” Harold Cooper asked as he descended from his second floor office. “We should have a little tournament.”
“Oh, what a lovely idea!” Exclaimed Red, smiling maniacally. “I happen to be quite the bowling aficionado.”
“No one invited you,” Ressler added. He was tired of Red always butting into FBI business. Clearly if Cooper was suggesting a tournament is ought to be JUST FBI personnel.
“Oh, I see no reason why Mr. Reddington couldn’t join us for a little friendly competition,” Cooper said.
The entire room heard Ressler’s grinding teeth.
“Don’t worry, Donald, we’ll give you a handicap,” Raymond said, patting the FBI agent on the shoulder and ignoring Ressler’s obvious tension.
“All right!” Aram pumped his fist in the air, already prepared to kick Ressler’s ass.
Samar rolled her eyes and resigned herself to an evening of excessive testosterone and male posturing. Sometimes she really missed Elizabeth.
Part II
The task force agents and Reddington + 1 met at the bowling alley at 7 pm that evening. Aram arrived first and reserved their lane, unpacking his Brunswick Tenacity ball and wiping it down lovingly before placing it on the rack. He was lacing up his shoes when Donald Ressler walked up carrying his lane rental ball and footwear.
“You’re kidding me, right?” He had to keep himself from laughing out loud at how seriously Aram appeared to be taking this whole bowling thing.
“I told you, bowling is a sport. How can you expect to be good at a sport when you use subpar equipment? The Brunswick Tenacity is one of the best reviewed balls in Bowling This Month!”
“If you say so,” Ressler responded, backing away slowly so as not to anger the crazy man. He plunked his ball down on the rack next to Aram’s and sat down to put his shoes on.
The others arrived shortly after that. There was some dispute over whether they should use their real names or nicknames for the score board. But when ‘Concierge of Crime’ ended up being too many letters so they just agreed to go with first names.
Ressler wasn’t surprised that Cooper also had his own ball and shoes. Bowling seemed to fit with the whole middle age, bureaucrat image after all. But he was a little surprised to see that both Reddington and Dembe had their own set of bowling accoutrement.
Then it was time to pick teams.
“I’ll take Mr. Reddington and Dembe,” Aram requested.
“No way!” Samar said. “They can’t be on the same team anyway, they’re… you know.” She looked around meaningfully.
“Know what?” Ressler asked, clearly not getting it.
“A couple,” she added, rolling her eyes.
“They’re WHAT?!” Donald’s eyes looked like they were going to roll right out of his head. “And if that’s the case it means that Aram and Navabi can’t be on the same team either.”
“You didn’t know that?” Harold asked. “Where did you get your FBI badge, out of cereal box?”
At which point they all laughed about Donald’s level of cluelessness, and he ground his teeth some more.
“Poor Donald, always the last to know,” Red sighed dramatically.
“Let’s just get on with it,” he said, sitting down with his arms crossed, clearly in the mood for a long sulk.
Part III
In the end they ended up picking names out of Red’s hat since no one could agree on who should be on who’s team. It would be Ressler, Navabi and Dembe against Aram, Cooper and Reddington.
Aram was up first for his team. The others watched in anticipation as he bowled a strike. “Woo hoo!” He shouted as he high fived his other two team mates. “Beat that!” He grinned maniacally at Ressler who rolled his eyes.
Navabi was up first for her team and she ended up bowling a split for her first roll but picked it up quite skillfully on her second.
Cooper turned out to be a decent bowler. He also rolled a split on the first go but only picked up one more pin on his second turn.
It had clearly been a while for Dembe who only took out three pins on his first roll, but picked up the spare on the second turn.
Reddington, predictably, rolled a strike. Ressler saw him wink at Dembe on his way back to his seat and shuddered dramatically.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ressler muttered as he picked up his battered lane ball and walked up to the lane.
“Remember, a little to the right!” Navabi called.
He tried, he really did. But, damn it, bowling is NOT a sport. And he’d only ever bowled like twice in his life and that was back in middle school at some dumb birthday party or other. His first roll went right in the gutter. He heard Samar groan behind him. He knew how competitive she was. She wouldn’t be happy to be saddled with The Worst Bowler EVER. On his second roll he was determined to at least HIT something. This time he managed to knock down three pins on the right hand side of the lane. He really didn’t want to turn around the face the disappointed gazes of his teammates, but he couldn’t just stand there like an idiot forever.
As he trudged back to the bench, Dembe patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, Donald, once you get warmed up I’m sure you’ll do better,” Dembe tried to give some encouragement.
Donald just groaned and attempted to be invisible.
It didn’t get better.
It turned out that literally EVERYONE on the task force, including the criminals, were better at bowling than him. He took comfort in knowing his shooting scores in their last shooting test were better than everyone’s except Navabi. He tried to remind himself that at least he had skills where it COUNTED, not some stupid NON-sport like bowling.
About half-way through Reddington bought everyone beer and snacks. But by then Donald ‘Bad-sport’ Ressler was in such a funk that even the temptation of hot wings and warm Budweiser wasn’t enough to put a smile on his face.
Ressler’s poor performance didn’t really affect the outcome by much. His other two teammates more than made up for his lack of proficiency. Aram’s team won by only forty points, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he was crowing about it endlessly as they returned their equipment and packed up to go.
Finally, Ressler couldn’t take it anymore. As they headed out to the parking lot he exploded, “Jesus Christ! Would you shut up already? Fine, bowling is a sport! Is that what you want to hear?! It’s a stupid, idiotic sport that almost no one cares about that doesn’t even get TV coverage except on the stupid bowling channel!”
Silence in a bowling alley hardly ever exists. In fact, most of the time you have to yell over crashing pins, loud bangs from inexpertly thrown balls, laughter and shouts from players, and all sorts cacophony. There was silence now. And every head was turned to look at Donald Ressler. And there were several expressions that looked more than a bit angry. Shit.
“It’s okay, folks,” Aram spoke up, “he’s just pissed cause he got the lowest score of anyone on both teams.”
“Let’s go, crazy man,” Cooper said, taking Donald by the arm and dragging him out of the alley.
As they went their separate ways, Donald vowed to himself that he would NEVER get in a stupid argument like that with Aram ever again. The humiliation just wasn’t worth it. And no matter what Aram said, bowling would never be a sport.