Bocce Ball Hi-jinx!
Last Saturday, the Nods of Recognition invited a few of us over for a game of Bocce Ball. I’m somewhat familiar with the game thanks to JJ, so I was thrilled to attend and discover that Eric actually has a designated Bocce zone in his front yard. However, they played a little differently than us. First of all, the balls were a lot bigger and heavier. They called the “jackball” a “polino,” and you didn’t get points for hitting it. And, the game was played with two teams, whereby the winning team would get a point for each ball that was closer to the polino than the rival teams closest ball. Luckily, they retained the JJ custom of the “12-16 ounce counterweight,” otherwise I would have been completely lost.
Since we played in Eric’s front yard, we got to meet a lot of the neighbors, most notably a 5-year-old named Keith. At first he was lovable and helpful, fetching balls and beers for all the players. Eventually, his desire to join the game himself, even though we were in the middle of a fierce competition, became an annoyance. Kate tried to bribe him away with snacks, listing off food to see if anything struck his fancy. He declined bread and cookies, but when she mentioned cheese, his ears perked up. “Cheese?” That’s when Eric broke the news that he didn’t actually have any cheese. However, Keith’s desire for cheese would not wane so easily. He began loudly whining, even looking in Yea-Ming’s pockets for a slice or two (That’s probably the first place I’d look, too, Keith).
Keith’s frustration with the lack of cheese and not being able to play came to a head during the last round of the game. The final ball was cast, and a few people ran forward to see if the winning team got enough points to take the game. Keith ran with them, too, but he swiped away the polino before they could measure the distances. Jonathan kept a finger where the ball was while everyone else tried to get the ball from Keith. Anna created a lovely hoop with her arms to try and entice Keith to throw the ball back to its proper place. As everyone yelled for Keith to throw the ball, I was somewhat worried it would hit Anna in the head. What we should have worried about, of course, is what actually happened: Keith threw the ball, it went over the fence, and smashed the windshield of the neighbor’s truck.
Everyone laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, while Keith started bawling. Everyone assured him he wouldn’t get in trouble. Kate decided to take on the duty of telling the neighbor. “He held his temples with one hand and said ‘Fuck’ fifty times… that means it’s cool, right?” The Nods, being the awesome people that they are, offered to pay for a new windshield. And in the end, of course, my team won. Hooray!
Since we played in Eric’s front yard, we got to meet a lot of the neighbors, most notably a 5-year-old named Keith. At first he was lovable and helpful, fetching balls and beers for all the players. Eventually, his desire to join the game himself, even though we were in the middle of a fierce competition, became an annoyance. Kate tried to bribe him away with snacks, listing off food to see if anything struck his fancy. He declined bread and cookies, but when she mentioned cheese, his ears perked up. “Cheese?” That’s when Eric broke the news that he didn’t actually have any cheese. However, Keith’s desire for cheese would not wane so easily. He began loudly whining, even looking in Yea-Ming’s pockets for a slice or two (That’s probably the first place I’d look, too, Keith).
Keith’s frustration with the lack of cheese and not being able to play came to a head during the last round of the game. The final ball was cast, and a few people ran forward to see if the winning team got enough points to take the game. Keith ran with them, too, but he swiped away the polino before they could measure the distances. Jonathan kept a finger where the ball was while everyone else tried to get the ball from Keith. Anna created a lovely hoop with her arms to try and entice Keith to throw the ball back to its proper place. As everyone yelled for Keith to throw the ball, I was somewhat worried it would hit Anna in the head. What we should have worried about, of course, is what actually happened: Keith threw the ball, it went over the fence, and smashed the windshield of the neighbor’s truck.
Everyone laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, while Keith started bawling. Everyone assured him he wouldn’t get in trouble. Kate decided to take on the duty of telling the neighbor. “He held his temples with one hand and said ‘Fuck’ fifty times… that means it’s cool, right?” The Nods, being the awesome people that they are, offered to pay for a new windshield. And in the end, of course, my team won. Hooray!