Well, the bocce season has ended. My first ever. For those of you unfamiliar with this pastime, it is basically shuffleboard redux — that is, a slow undemanding game often engaged in by very old people (like me).
There are, of course, very active leagues with participants under the age of 60. There are even professional bocce players. The sport is well respected in the world, probably rivaling curling on the “serious” spectrum. But the nature of the game is such that it can be done without running, bending, tackling, batting, throwing, kicking, walking, jumping, dribbling, or really much of anything. All you have to do is get yourself to the court, then roll a croquet-size ball down it at whatever speed/force you want.
That’s it. It is so simple that people who have never heard of or seen it can show up and immediately participate. Oh sure, there are rules and nuances to the game, but as you can see it is tailor-made for old people.
At any rate, having recently moved into an old fart farm, I found myself on a bocce team. I wasn’t thrilled, but it was hard to refuse. And contrary to my expectations, I kind of enjoyed it. The games provided some fun and laughs, along with a bit of mild trash talking. There were a few hardcore wannabes, but most of us were just there to socialize in the fresh air. Needless to say, our team did not make the playoffs. In fact, I believe we are battling it out for the basement spot.
Though it’s not a taxing game, it definitely can seem to drag on forever. After shouting and cheering and blowing raspberries at the other team in the hot sun for a couple of hours, I was always glad to come back, put my feet up, and have an iced coffee on my porch.
It was hard to admit to myself that I was a tad pooped, and what was worse, my exercise rings had hardly even budged!
So, after one whole season of bocce, my conclusion is that it actually is a pretty fun game, but it is hell on your rings.
Ripples 