9. Dust

In late November 1994, about 4 weeks before the Year 7 school year was about to end, a new chapter was starting in my life. Mum returned on Thursday night with an “Open Day” flyer to Mount Cottrell Bowling Club in Rockbank that she had been handed at Bingo. Mum remembered quite vividly how interested I was in the game as a youngster, watching Jack High and Qantas Jetabout in the caravan of the Chain Valley Bay Caravan Park. She brought the flyer home for me and encouraged me to go next Sunday with her.

It was the first Sunday in December and despite hardly sleeping the night before, I was raring to go for my first try at lawn bowls. I hopped in the car about 10:00am with Mum and we headed off to the bowling club. We got onto the freeway and turned down Mount Cottrell Road – apparently the bowling club was down there.

We drove at about 30kms an hour on the bumpiest, pot-hole filled, rough dirt road you had ever seen. Quite simply, the dust was disgraceful and the car vibrations were unbelievable. After about 10 minutes driving, I told Mum to turn around and forget about it. We had no idea where this club was.

To my surprise, Mum kept going and a minute or two later we came to a gate on our left hand side which had a tiny little sign stating that this place was “Mount Cottrell Bowling Club”. Woo hoo! We had arrived.

One single synthetic green situated 50 metres from the club house was filled with about a dozen people – some trying bowls and others providing basic instructions. I was an arrogant little twelve year old. A man who called himself “George” walked over to Mum and I and introduced himself. He started to explain bowls to my mother; the bias of the bowl, the weight of the bowl and basics of taking grass and making sure you reached the jack. I rudely interrupted saying that Mum had brought me here to try bowls!

George was pleasantly surprised, but looking at a scrawny little 12 year old probably didn’t excite him as much as my 31 year old mother. George was a very friendly man, even to me. He took me onto the bowling green, showed me how to place the mat, roll the jack and then explained the basics of the bias and grass. All I wanted to do was bowl, not listen to a lecture on the game.

I checked one more time with him about the bias and then decided it was time to put my first bowl down. I will never forget holding the Size 4 Heavyweight Classic Deluxe bowls with a logo of an old-fashioned car. It was the first lawn bowl I had ever held.

My first bowl was heavy and narrow, my second touched the jack, my third was a wrong bias and my fourth landed right next to the jack. A small crowd of club members gathered around as I played at least another 5 ends. They were smiling, clapping and even at times cheering out when I got one close. There was no doubt that 12 year olds were extremely rare in lawn bowls in the mid 1990’s, especially one who seemed to have an understanding for the game itself.

We went into the clubhouse and had some sausages in bread. Mum bought me a can of coke and George sat to talk with us. Membership was $50 for a season and I totally freaked out. $50 was a massive amount of money to someone my age and I knew Mum didn’t have that type of money to throw away on bowls. Don’t forget that I also would have needed a set of bowls, white bowling uniform, bowls rag, chalk, shoes and a bowls bag. Even today, bowls remains one of the most expensive sports to get started. Although disappointed at the time, I knew that bowls was a sport that we couldn’t afford for me to play.

Money was the enemy.