“Boy, your Uncle Milan sure had it goin’ last night,” he’d tell me in the morning. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay up until he got home. Their league started late - 9 o’clock or so - after a women’s league. ![]() He wore a Sharon Auto Wrecking shirt and carried his shoes, a wrist guard and a black ball with his initials etched into it in a bag he kept in the side closet. In 1976, there were 96 bowling “houses” in which to get your kegle on - and about a quarter million Clevelanders did.įor years, my dad and uncles bowled in a league together on Tuesday nights. What Cleveland Magazine once described as “the Polack of the sports world, ranking just below horseshoe pitching in the hierarchy of uncultured pursuits” had become the domain of lawyers, bankers and, yes, women.īy 1974, more than 100,000 Clevelanders competed in at least one league per week, and almost half of them were women. What had once been relegated to the back rooms of bars with four, maybe six, lanes, had rolled its way to the suburbs and even downtown’s well-to-do Athletic Club. Some people grooved to disco in the 1970s. Business Hall of Fame and Community Leader of the Year Awards.
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