Story
of Glory, the Great Texas Armadillo Bowling Competition, unmasked!
Story: If you’re lucky
enough to be in the great state of
Texas
and traveling east from
El Paso
at
2:00 a.m.
in the morning you may be fortunate enough to be witness to a rare scenic
treat. I don’t mean the
breathtaking, world renowned event of seeing billions of stars on a clear night
from horizon to horizon, but an event so rare, locals shroud the details in myth
and lore if they talk of it at all! The
very rare and possibly extinct event I am referring to is one very few travelers
or for that matter,
Texas
diehards have ever seen; armadillo bowling!
Yes, you heard me right, armadillo bowling late at night or very early in
the morning. I have heard of people
hiding out in the desert trying to catch a glimpse of this rare sport; all to no
avail. Is this event simply a myth
which has gained notoriety because of its uniqueness?
I think not! For I was a
participant years ago during the days of my youth!
That’s right; I’m one of a very few still alive who can relive the
details of a pinnacle in sports competition; armadillo bowling!
Many trophy winners and losers die carrying memories of triumph and
failure to the grave. Family members
are aghast when confronted with the news a loved one had participated in such an
event; and for a lifetime hid the glory from them.
Well, I’m here to set the story strait!
I don’t expect laymen to take my word for it; and I realize to take my
word for something so mythical, so astonishing without proof is asking most to
discard all reason, to discard all common sense, and for some to discard all
semblance of reality is asking just fifty cents shy, too much.
I realize proof is something tangible; something real that can be pulled
out of your mind like pulling coins from your pocket when paying for that next
Ajax
(Jax to locals) beer. Enough said,
try this on for proof. Proof #1.
When traveling on Texas highways in sweltering heat, with your family
packed like sardines in the old Chevy, in the middle of nowhere, describing
delirious, heat induced visions to each other, , where do you think those run
over, empty beer cans come from that are scattered on the side of the road????
Do you think they just suddenly appeared for your enjoyment?
Noooooooooo. If you look
carefully you will notice there is a special, and yet unique pattern to their
placement!!! Yes, I’ll admit, some
were just thrown from moving vehicles
to dissuade passersby’s from stumbling on state treasure; one of the rare,
hidden, geographical, yes you got it,
one of the real locations of Armadillo bowling!!!!
And yes, some were placed there by kids trying to ‘steal’
someone else’s glory for themselves; but believe me when I tell you; most are
remnants of a much hidden, global sport competition!
They don’t want us to know! I’m
sure
Japan
is involved,
China
,
South Africa
,
Cuba
, all competitors…!!! My eyes ‘mist up’ when I think of it!!!
Say it three times real fast and see if you don’t get a tingle!!!!
Armadillo bowling, armadillo bowling, armadillo bowling, yea!
Armadillo bowling, armadillo bowling, armadillo bowling, yea!
Say it fast like a school football chant!!!
And after you dry your eyes, don’t panic; as I said, proof is hard to
come by. You will see later in this
‘story of glory’ that flattened beer cans along Texas state highways
aren’t all they appear to be; there not just ‘gold’ in someone’s pocket!
Proof #2. Skid marks, yea, I
got you there! All those tire skid
marks on the pavement. Like most,
foolish you thought they were put there accidentally!
Well, I’m here to tell you they were carefully placed there in a
mesmerizing pattern to lull the uninitiated into thinking they need to look out
for animals crossing the road!!! Ha,
ha. Ask yourself truthfully, why the
hell would animals do that? How many
of them do you really think actually know what asphalt is?
If you didn’t know, would you set your bare feet on that sticky, hot
shit!!!!! Of course not, but the
AB’s want us to believe it! The
obvious answer is they wouldn’t. What,
and risk being hit by a car or semi while crossing a 200 degree frying pan; come
on, wake up! Those tire tracks were
put there to confuse you and hide the bowling ball skid marks!
If there was a ‘heavy’ game, it was common practice to ‘hide’ or
‘camouflage’ the bowling ball lane marks with tire tread!
So, the next time you see tire marks on the pavement; crack a little
smile, and rest assured you are now ‘in the know’ and an honorary member of
the elite ‘Fool me once, fool me twice’ club!
You’ve made it to the ‘top
drawer’. Finally, ‘the set
up’ and the moment you have been waiting for; how to play, where to play, and
the prizes!
To ‘set the stage’; I was just sixteen and full of vim and vigor.
I was residing in the great town of
El Paso
,
Texas
. A great border town that
fluctuated daily, between populations of twenty and twenty million peoples, give
or take a ‘crossing’.
El Paso
was located on the gleaming shores of the Rio Grand River.
Actually, a much maligned irrigation canal for cotton and catfish.
At the time of the ‘storm
the great railroad gate’ fiesta by the locals on the Mexican side of the
river; replete with burning bon fires, much dancing, drinking, and yelling to
reenact the taking of El Paso by Mexico, there wasn’t much to do during the
summer but drink beer, work, and sleep. In
an effort to quell civic unrest, city fathers combined their great wisdom in
unison with local community leaders and together strived to bring
El Paso
‘out of the dark ages’ by trying to invent an innovative sport competition
unique to the Star of the Grande´,
El Paso
, Tejas . Two of those very special
civic leaders were (L.B.) Larry Brown, and (C.B.) Charlie Brown.
Although many thought otherwise because of their ‘trendsetter’
appearances and charming smiles, they were not twins nor were they related.
Their unwavering dedication and donation of their precious time when
asked to participate in this conundrum fostered a mythical love for these two by
the poor locals they served and the powerful elite who knew them for the civic
leaders they were. Even today, it is
custom to bow when speaking their names in public!
They are considered blasphemed if their names are whispered innocently
under ones breath in conjunction with menial labor!
This being said, it is with great joy and warmth of heart I join my
brethren as a ‘Texas Armadillo Bowler’ and dedicate these recollections in
loving memory to the both of them. Unless
of course, after all these years they’re alive!
It was the summer of 1964, and an especially hot evening.
We had just finished digging a trench from our front porch, across our
dirt front yard, then across the dirt road in front of the house, and finally
under the rear fence of the drive-in theater that was located across that same
dirt road. The theater was located
between downtown and
Fort
Bliss
. We carefully dug at night to avoid
detection. Most locals thought the ditch was for run-off anyway.
Little did they know, we carefully placed phone wire in the ditch and
covered it back up for the sole purpose of having speaker wires from the rear
row of the theater (and one of the speakers hanging on the pole) to our front
porch. Upon completion, we
celebrated that hot, sweltering, fateful night with LB’s world famous fried
rabbit and potatoes, ice-drippin cold beer and the sound of the movie playing
across the street on the ‘big screen’ crackling out of that junk yard car
speaker we had hanging on our porch! It
was almost too much. We looked like
five convicts sitting in a shady ditch who were told to take a break, grinning
from ear to ear! If you were lucky
enough to be standing behind us in the doorway, we looked like a Norman Rockwell
painting. If not for just one
evening, we were kids again. Kids
who got away with something; something good!
Anyway, to get back to Armadillo bowling;
it was on one of those same sweltering, summer evenings the conversation
centered on the fact that I had not seen, nor eaten an armadillo.
It was soon pointed out to me they were a Texas delicacy and that I could
not be a ‘true’ Texan if I let this discrepancy and hence ‘blemish’ on
my manhood go unsatisfied. It was
then, our regal civic leader, L.B., got the idea to show the uninitiated how to
hunt armadillos. We would all get a
good nights sleep and head out to the desert in the morning, a real adventure
‘like the Indians’ as he put it. Like
clock work, next morning came with the sun and our little shack was filled with
anticipation as we packed L.B.’s, bright yellow, forty one, International
bread truck. The truck was a marvel
of engineering. It had a T.V.,
sleeping bags, radio, and could take a person anywhere.
We headed out on our adventure. Once
leaving the safety of the blacktop highway pavement and driving on a snaking
dirt road for what seem hours, L.B. slowed and came to a stop.
By then, the time was about
8:00 a.m.
and the sun had already heated the abandoned dirt road to seventy-five degrees.
If you wanted shade, it hid inside or under L.B.’s truck! Unbeknown
to me, the reason we stopped, is that L.B. had seen an armadillo hole, just off
the side of the road. He smiled as
he stood above the six inch dark hole neatly burrowed in the shade of a small
mesquite bush. L.B. prided himself
on his hunting ability, and with the poppin of his first morning beer, opened
the swinging, double back doors to the truck to reveal a six foot long, gray
snake. In an instant, he held in his
hands a vacuum cleaner hose. Smiling
and to no avail, L.B. glanced the faces of four drop-jawed cowboys for any
recognition of its use. We starred
at the limp instrument wondering what the hell he was going to do with it.
Always trying to catch me at something while oiling the squeaky wheel and
not missing a beat, the ‘civic
leader’ handed me the gray hose and said “put one end of this in the exhaust
pipe and the other in the hole” while poppin his second can of ‘medicine’.
He watched intently, as if someone could do it wrong.
Like an actor ‘staging’ or ‘hamming’ L.B. slowly turned and
walked to the drivers’ side of ‘Hurley’, the name he gave the prized, 1941
international. After climbing in
(the international had a small, round, pedal you had to push down with your foot
to engage the starter once the ignition key was in the ‘on’ position) A
moment later, and like a million times before ‘Hurley’ was purring like a
kitten, and like a beaming father, L.B. watched and listened as his faithful
companion pumped exhaust fumes down the armadillo’s hole!
I’d never seen anything like it! He
was beaming of course, as he ‘popped open’ another ‘pill’.
Watching his every move (I was learning to go out in the world) I noticed
he placed the empty beer cans carefully on the carpet by the rear door of his
faithful ‘Hurley’. After about
twenty minutes his intent eyes scanned the faces of the unbelieving and while
looking at no one in particular he said “O.K. now, all of you fan out and look
for the exit hole; the armadillo will be coming out any second”.
I could not believe my eyes when not ten feet away a yell came from
C.Brown; the armadillo had indeed been driven into the sunlight from the cool,
safety of his hole because of the exhaust fumes being pumped into his den.
C.Brown kicked it with his boot and the small critter rolled up in an
armored plated ball. While we stood
in a circle and watched the creature, C.Brown
picked it up. We all cheered as
(like an ancient offering to the gods) C.Brown presented the small, round
armadillo to our ‘civic leader’, L.B. With
that, L.B. turned the ignition key and Hurley came to a silent stop.
It was at this time, L.B. said he would teach us to be championship
sportsmen. We would bowl with
armadillos! We were informed that if
we wanted to keep the armadillo docile, we would have to periodically move it.
In this way the armadillo would maintain its defensive posture of
remaining in a protected ball. We
eventually all piled into the van and proceeded back to the highway.
Once arriving on pavement, L.B. drove north for what seemed a half hour
or so. We finally came to rest on
the shoulder of the highway facing south, as we made a ‘U’ turn.
L.B.’s ‘medicine’ was helping his pain.
He explained that he wanted to drive far enough from town to be able to
see traffic coming from either direction for miles.
He was right; where he stopped was perfectly flat and one could see the
highway running both directions for miles. With
a smile he then proceeded to the back of the van, opened the double doors and
removed the empty cans. He handed
each one of us a ‘pin’ and sent us fifty feet down the highway.
We stood them on the ‘center line’ in a ‘V’ formation (like
bowling pins) and walked slowly back to L.B. and the waiting ‘ball’.
A glance in both directions told us all no one would be coming for at
least a half hour to interrupt the game. L.B.
directed the ‘team’ to each open a beer to inaugurate and commence the First
Annual Armadillo Bowling Tournament! While
standing on hundred degree pavement with rising heat waves making the lower
portion of our bodies’ invisible to the naked eye from a distance, we gladly
accepted the order from the ‘master’. The
two hundred, fifty pound ‘civic leader’ was to roll the first ‘ball’.
As with great fanfare of cheering, clapping, and whooping, our leader
rolled the small armadillo down the center line of the highway towards the
waiting ‘pins’. Thus, the great
sport of Texas Armadillo Bowling was born and L.B., C.Brown, and the three of us
vanished into history. OK, if you
need to know; L.B. never hit a ‘pin’. C.Brown
threw overhand and was chastised, admonished, and summarily disqualified from
the game. Darell missed after moving
ten feet closer; while Spot did a wonderful job of knocking down six of seven
‘pins’ by making sure the ‘little fellow’ didn’t touch the pavement
until it was half way down the highway. On
the other hand, I did in fact knock down all the ‘pins’ but relinquished my
‘trophy’ status because it rolled it so hard the little guy kept on going,
finally to leave the pavement and enter the ditch.
By the time any of us reached the ‘gutter’ the brave little guy had
apparently unrolled himself and ran off! If
you can believe it, we never found our ball!!!
The mystery haunts some of us to this day.
When we relive our saga to friends they just smile with disgust to know
we left a helpless armadillo twenty miles from his burrow, dizzy as hell,
wandering aimlessly in the arid dessert! Women
look at us like cruel killers and give us the ‘you bastards how could you’
look! We put off the competition for
awhile. Some of the other guys even
come into the bar and challenge us, saying “were better than you, and we can
kick your ass anytime!” Like they
have been practicing! Others say
“so you’re the armadillo guys?” Once
a pretty gal told me they were endangered and I could be sent to prison to play
with ‘bubba’. At night I have
cold sweats when I think of the little guy wandering in the desert after a
puking carnival ride. Anyway, the
tournaments are now held in secrecy and foreign nations are involved.
I have been sworn to secrecy because I am a team captain.
I'll keep you posted, yea! Look for game schedules, times, and home team
playoffs in your local travel periodicals. See you there!!!!!! All
the best. RJ.
Wish us luck next season!
Sing….Armadillo
bowling, armadillo bowling, armadillo bowling, yea!
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