Words of a Railsplitter

This is the full version of a story that I wrote for LMURailsplitters.com.

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My story?

I’ve got stories. Which one do you want to hear?

Do you want the early beginnings of young Noley?

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I started bowling when I was still living in Buffalo, New York. (Yes, I am a Bills fan; and yes, Josh Allen stinks.) But back then, the only sport I cared about was baseball. My hero, Alex Rodriguez, was in his prime and steroid-free (or at least we thought).

I was adamantly against bowling when my dad — who left my mom AT the hospital after my birth at 3:19 p.m. to make his 6:30 p.m. bowling league — tried to coax my sister and I into playing. My opposition was short-lived, as my narcissistic and jealous eight-year-old self couldn’t handle the extra attention that my sister received when she got her own bowling ball.

We moved to Raleigh, NC not long after I started bowling. That’s where my passion for bowling took off. Believe it or not, my parents actually signed my sister and I up for a bowling league before enrolling us in school.

Our new bowling alley, basically my second home during my teen years, was called Buffaloe Lanes. We chose it mostly because of the name and that was perhaps the most serendipitous decision my parents ever made, as Buffaloe Lanes was home to the largest youth bowling program in the country. Every Saturday morning, the entire center was packed with kids of all ages and skill on nearly all 42 lanes.

I was a little fish in a big pond and I hated losing, so I started practicing every day my parents would take me. They found my sister and I a coach, Melissa McDaniel, and we started competing in semi-local tournaments like the Tough Shots Tour and 12Bagger Youth Bowling Tour.

While I infamously never won any of those tournaments — don’t even get my friends started — I did shoot the first perfect games in the history of each of those events. And several pro bowlers and Team USA members grew up competing on the Tough Shots Tour. (Okay, technically one girl beat me by like two hours for the first Tough Shots 300. Let’s call it a tie?)

Before I knew it, I was meeting, competing and befriending some of the best youth bowlers in the country. In 2014, I qualified for my first Junior Gold tournament, the largest national youth event of the year, in none other than my hometown of Buffalo, NY.

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Is that the story you wanted? Or do you want the story of how I got to LMU?

Well, I must admit that one is pretty interesting.

I was one of the top academic students at my high school; I could go to practically any college I desired. Yet I found myself in December of my senior year without a clue in the world of where that place might be.

One day, I was scrolling through Instagram and saw this big-nosed doofus throwing a strike and then flipping a water bottle on the lane. My first thought was what the hell is wrong with this kid? My second thought was damn, he is pretty good. I saw that he committed to a school called LMU, which seemed odd to me because I thought he would’ve gone to one of college bowling’s blue-bloods.

I decided to check out what exactly LMU was. I quickly recognized the head coach, Joe Slowinski. Turns out, I had been watching his instructional videos on Youtube for some time. He also started the bowling program at Webber International University, arguably the best program in the country.

I messaged Joe and visited the campus not long after. Within a few weeks, I went from a wandering high school senior to an LMU commit, all because of an Instagram post. Oh yeah, that bottle-flipping weirdo, Hunter Kempton, became one of my closest friends.

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Still not satisfied? How about I tell you about three-plus years at LMU?

It’s always about March and April.

That’s our motto at LMU bowling. It’s on the wall of our locker room, a daily reminder that the postseason is always the top priority. So let’s talk about our postseason history…

(Remember, I’m from Buffalo. Playoff disappointment is in my blood.)

My freshman year we competed in Smyrna, TN for the Intercollegiate Team Championships. It’s basically like the NCAA Tournament for basketball; the top four teams from each sectional advance to nationals, creating a “Sweet Sixteen” of sorts.

The tournament is a grueling, two-day, 64-game marathon. After Day 1, we found ourselves comfortably in second place behind a dominant Robert Morris squad. As a bunch of nobodies from nowhere, we were pretty pumped.

Day 2 did not go as well. We stumbled in the first block, but still held a sizable lead over the teams outside the cut. How many pins? 283, I believe. If you know anything about sports during the past five years, that number has exactly the connotation you’d expect.

We missed nationals by 50 pins. That’s less than one pin per game. I’ve lived a rather fortunate life, so when I say that was the worst day of my life, I’m not lying.

The next year we competed in Stratford, New Jersey, just outside of Philadelphia. I didn’t do much of anything in the singles portion of sectionals my freshman year, but I matched up to the pattern this year. (That’s bowling lingo for being locked in.)

I started off with games of 257 and 244 to take the lead. I maintained that lead through game four of the six-game event, before slipping to third after game five. I only needed to finish in the top-five to qualify for nationals. I shot a decent-but-not-good-enough 210 the final game and was leapfrogged by five bowlers to mis the cut by ten pins.

If I had struck on all three of the shots in the final frame, I would’ve tied for the last spot. That was my Scott Norwood moment.

That takes us to 2020, my junior year. We arrived in Dallas, Texas on March 11. If you’re an avid NBA fan like myself, that day is significant. From our hotel room, my teammates and I watched what is now known as “The Rudy Gobert Game”. It was the exact moment when COVID-19 evolved from an international phenomena into a national crisis.

Within 24 hours, and right as my dad’s surprise flight from Raleigh landed, that weekend’s sectional events were postponed and later cancelled. On the bright side, our trip back to LMU was abbreviated because I had convinced the Athletics Department to let us take a plane. They initially wanted us to take a tour bus, but I was not about to take a 20-hour bus ride. So I did some research on flights, tallied up the numbers on a spreadsheet and submitted my findings to the Athletics Department. After some persistence, they agreed to let us fly. (I mean, I did save them a few thousand dollars after all.)

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Nah. You know what? None of those are my story.

My story is yet to be written. Those may be the first few chapters, but were a long, long way from its conclusion.

The story my great-grandkids are going to hear about hasn’t happened yet. The one about my exploits as a renowned sports writer or savvy general manager of a professional sports team is still unfolding.

That story would not be possible without the lessons I’ve learned, the experiences I’ve had or the people I’ve met at LMU.

I’ve learned that the doors that open up our future don’t necessarily look like doors. Sometimes, they look like Pinocchio flipping a water bottle on a bowling lane.

I’ve learned that while bowling, as well as all the other sports I follow religiously, are a huge part of my life, they aren’t the only thing. As much as I replay that final tenth frame in my head — What if I had just taken a little more time or made a 1-1 move left? — life keeps on moving, with or without you.

I’ve learned that if you want something, you have to take it. Whether that desire is simply to not take a 20-hour bus ride or perhaps a job offer, you have to demand it — even if you’re just a 21-year-old student-athlete and part-time intern.

I would not be the person I am today if I had not come to LMU. My story would have been written, but it wouldn’t be quite as spectacular as the one transpiring now. You’ll have to stay tuned for that one, though.