BOWLS AND TALK.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 1, Issue 70, 21 February 1913, Page 4

BOWLS AND TALK.

On the Auckland Green. By PUKEKOHE. It used to be said that the Australian Eleven was the best advertisement that our neighbouring island-continent ever enjoyed. The same thing was said for this Dominion when New Zealand s All Blacks went Home.

In the same way —although on a very much smaller scale, of course—this district is advertised when Clubs of various kiud3 visit here and when representatives of our Clubs go to other centres. Last Saturday I had a game of bowls on the Auckland Bowling Club's green and the comments made by my immediate opponent impressed the foregoing points of view upon me. Bowls is a sociable game although, really, to play it successfully it must be played seriously. Most of us make the mistake of mixing sociable conversation and sport. And they won't mix properly. Still, overkeenness is sometimos mistaken for meanness —or '' hardness " —and nobody relishes a reputation for that. The player who strains the tape " to take every point he can get " is not commonly legarded as a " good sport." Which, in my opinion, is a mistake. Although we may not always do it, we should always play to win. That is true sport. But on Auckland green we mixed things. Do not misunderstand : we mixed conversation and contest. 'J Big place, Pukekohe ?" said my immediate opponent. " 'Bout as big," I said " as Blow it!" The vocabulary of bowling is not nearly so picturesque as that of golf when it comes to missing a shot. The reason is, I daresay, that with bowls one is so certain of being able to relieve one's-self afterwards by drawing diagrams with the pocketed Club chalk, with pencils, or with walking-stick points on the footpaths, and so describe with tiresome exactitude precisely how some ridiculously short bowl prevented you from scoring. " As big," I explained afterward?, " as a thriving young borough ought to be." "Got a good green there?—Ach, I'm too wide !—Suppose you notice the difference here?" (This with a pleasant little tone of superiority.) "Our green is only two-year-old," I answered, "but"—as my bowl failed me—" it's better than this!" (This was a Roland of hyperbole in exchange for his Oliver.) "Got a—wide again!—got a pavilion?" he asked between some comely comments on his own play. "Yep!" I said, drawing an irritated breath as the score announced me two down. " Don't play often, I suppose. Only on Saturdays ? " " Play—ah, that's better —play every day, except Sundays. The green isn't hidden! " was the disjointed answer. "How many rinks?" was the next query. " Eight," I said, and it was quite plain then that Pukekohe was going up in mv good friend's estimation. It had another lift when the game was over, for of the four visiting Clubs Pukekohe's representatives were the only ones to beat Auckland's on the day. I told him lots of things about > Pukekohe's green and Franklin's bowlers when I had time. Possibly if you took a rule and ran over all that was said carefully, you would reach for the salt cellar. "You know -extenuatingly—- " we haven't our best teams here, a lot of our fellows are away at the Eotorua tournament !" said my friend. "Ourrinks," I didn't hesitate to reply, " are made up, with two exceptions, of first and second year players. But with a little practice And we shook hands heartily, and sincerely congratulated one another, as our rinks left in a hurry to catch the evening train for home.