Happy Pete Weber Day

[BitterYoungMatador2]

Who do you think you are, I am!

 

[bigpern23]

God, I love this clip.

 

[Scout]

Cant stand him but love watching him.

 

[Liut]

Clicked thinking this might have something to do with the Nashville Predators broadcaster.

 

[maumann]

It's hard to believe Pete may be older than **** when I was watching PBA Tour as a kid. And I loved **** Weber, the ultimate stroker.

 

[Scout]

 

[HappyCurmudgeon]

I wrote a column on Earl Anthony after he died. He was the probably the first person I saw as a kid that stuck with me because he was a lefty and I am left handed. The idea of seeing a left-handed bowler or left-handed anything in sport or game was pretty new to me.

 

[ChrisLong]

As a kid, always wondered if the Brooklyn pocket for a right-hander -- between the 1 and 2 pins -- was different for a left-hander. Was it between the 1 and 3 pins and what was it called?

 

[maumann]

Apparently, it's still a Brooklyn.

Bowling Lingo | PBA

I will say lefties do have a bit of an advantage, just because they don't see as much change in oil patterns during a series -- because there are usually fewer of them. But man, Anthony's ball must have had some amazing bottom weight to get that kind of reaction when throwing it that straight. My Ebonite is sitting in the middle of the garden because oil patterns have rendered it obsolete.

 

[HappyCurmudgeon]

Apparently, it's still a Brooklyn.

Bowling Lingo | PBA

I will say lefties do have a bit of an advantage, just because they don't see as much change in oil patterns during a series -- because there are usually fewer of them. But man, Anthony's ball must have had some amazing bottom weight to get that kind of reaction when throwing it that straight. My Ebonite is sitting in the middle of the garden because oil patterns have rendered it obsolete.

People from Brooklyn call it a "jersey" strike

 

[Dog8Cats]

Threadjacking to the nth power, but not apologizing.

Not for the first or last time, Chuck Culpepper wrote it best:

Sure, Earl Anthony became Earth's most famous bowler, but did you know Anthony looked like a dream driving a tractor in coveralls and a hat?

You knew he was a vegetarian on a raw-food diet with cholesterol at 155 when he died last week, right? No? What about the Rabbit Society? He joined that with wife Susie, seven rabbits adorned their yard near here and Earl got finicky seeking a mate for his beloved Alfred.

A scratch golfer who smashed a putter and threw it in a trash can after three-putting on No. 8 at Forest Hills? A gardener who plowed with a shovel rather than roto-tiller because his wife didn't want him killing the worms? A maestro at concocting ice cream sundaes for his three children?

No? Well, in a wooded park beyond winding roads, in the real Oregon where chill rules, green outdoes itself and ivy climbs trees with impunity, they painted a man Tuesday. The memorial service for a semipro baseball pitcher turned graveyard-shift grocery worker turned world's greatest bowler flushed out Earl Anthony as somebody -- well, somebody you'd like to know.

There he was in pouring rain and mud helping an Oregon neighbor uproot trees. There he was driving disabled and elderly citizens to appointments as an American Red Cross volunteer. There he was relishing movies, munching popcorn, bawling at "Shakespeare In Love" for the sixth time: "Oh, God, I'm just a helpless romantic, I guess."

A bowling-tour father, driving family around America with the male chromosome that refuses to ask directions. A man so in love with the family dog he'd drive the freeway with Puff on his lap, Puff's nose out the window. A born competitor who'd study games from Vegas casinos to Puyallup fairs, then win prizes for his kids. Who switched country clubs seeking fiercer matches.

The tireless fiftysomething who'd bowl for two hours, then play 18 holes with buddy Dean Johnson, then hit golf balls. The hug-lover who'd greet family friend Cathy Schlegel at his door, say, "Hi, darlin'," then chop up an intricate salad for her. The student of life who'd help set up tables for monthly vegetarian potlucks, then say, "I'm here because Susie needed a ride tonight."

To the lectern stepped 19 friends across two hours, many from Anthony's 13 Oregon years. A neighbor. Golfing buddies. Bowling buddies. A young man from Panama whose mother takes English from Susie Anthony and who recalled watching Blazers games with Earl. A married couple from the local EarthSave chapter. The twinkle in Earl's eye made frequent recollective appearances. His legendary competitiveness made still more. You'd wish you had $10 for every time you heard, "I knew him for a year before I realized who he was."

A golfing doubles mate with longish hair began, "I am the hippie cab owner who was Earl's partner." The man from the Rabbit Society began, "I know you're wondering, What's this weird rabbit guy going to say?" The Red Cross transportation director said, "Our clients always felt honored to ride in his Lexus."

Spirits lifted. Laughs frequented. Ducts flooded. "I'll miss ya, Earl," pro bowler Ernie Schlegel said, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I'd bowl with him, and sometimes I'd sit back and watch," local bowling proprietor Dean Johnson said before an emotional pause. "He was a nice man," went the eloquent crescendo of his three children's composition.

The news plainly said Earl Anthony, greatest bowler ever, 1970s TV mainstay, 41-time titlist, crew cut known 'round the country, tumbled down a staircase Aug. 14 in a friend's Wisconsin home and died too young at 63. But that was before 19 speakers crafted a portrait with a brook rushing over rocks as background music. By the time their vivid recollections and richness of memory had spilled out, it had grown hard to believe the great Earl Anthony had perished.

Clearly, he hasn't.​

 

[User 149557]

I love that clip. Although all of my time in a bowling alley while my dad played in two leagues was spent feeding quarters into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles machine...

Off topic: There’s probably a good analogy to modern Americans and their attitudes to go with the fact that they expect bowling alleys to now use oil patterns that help them reach higher scores.

I had a bowling alley owner tell me he’s had more 300 games in the last 10 years than the other 50 years of the alley’s existence combined.

The wall placard used to be this unreachable star. Now multiple people every year do it. One guy did it twice in three months.

 

[swingline]

Threadjacking to the nth power, but not apologizing.

Not for the first or last time, Chuck Culpepper wrote it best:

Sure, Earl Anthony became Earth's most famous bowler, but did you know Anthony looked like a dream driving a tractor in coveralls and a hat?

You knew he was a vegetarian on a raw-food diet with cholesterol at 155 when he died last week, right? No? What about the Rabbit Society? He joined that with wife Susie, seven rabbits adorned their yard near here and Earl got finicky seeking a mate for his beloved Alfred.

A scratch golfer who smashed a putter and threw it in a trash can after three-putting on No. 8 at Forest Hills? A gardener who plowed with a shovel rather than roto-tiller because his wife didn't want him killing the worms? A maestro at concocting ice cream sundaes for his three children?

No? Well, in a wooded park beyond winding roads, in the real Oregon where chill rules, green outdoes itself and ivy climbs trees with impunity, they painted a man Tuesday. The memorial service for a semipro baseball pitcher turned graveyard-shift grocery worker turned world's greatest bowler flushed out Earl Anthony as somebody -- well, somebody you'd like to know.

There he was in pouring rain and mud helping an Oregon neighbor uproot trees. There he was driving disabled and elderly citizens to appointments as an American Red Cross volunteer. There he was relishing movies, munching popcorn, bawling at "Shakespeare In Love" for the sixth time: "Oh, God, I'm just a helpless romantic, I guess."

A bowling-tour father, driving family around America with the male chromosome that refuses to ask directions. A man so in love with the family dog he'd drive the freeway with Puff on his lap, Puff's nose out the window. A born competitor who'd study games from Vegas casinos to Puyallup fairs, then win prizes for his kids. Who switched country clubs seeking fiercer matches.

The tireless fiftysomething who'd bowl for two hours, then play 18 holes with buddy Dean Johnson, then hit golf balls. The hug-lover who'd greet family friend Cathy Schlegel at his door, say, "Hi, darlin'," then chop up an intricate salad for her. The student of life who'd help set up tables for monthly vegetarian potlucks, then say, "I'm here because Susie needed a ride tonight."

To the lectern stepped 19 friends across two hours, many from Anthony's 13 Oregon years. A neighbor. Golfing buddies. Bowling buddies. A young man from Panama whose mother takes English from Susie Anthony and who recalled watching Blazers games with Earl. A married couple from the local EarthSave chapter. The twinkle in Earl's eye made frequent recollective appearances. His legendary competitiveness made still more. You'd wish you had $10 for every time you heard, "I knew him for a year before I realized who he was."

A golfing doubles mate with longish hair began, "I am the hippie cab owner who was Earl's partner." The man from the Rabbit Society began, "I know you're wondering, What's this weird rabbit guy going to say?" The Red Cross transportation director said, "Our clients always felt honored to ride in his Lexus."

Spirits lifted. Laughs frequented. Ducts flooded. "I'll miss ya, Earl," pro bowler Ernie Schlegel said, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I'd bowl with him, and sometimes I'd sit back and watch," local bowling proprietor Dean Johnson said before an emotional pause. "He was a nice man," went the eloquent crescendo of his three children's composition.

The news plainly said Earl Anthony, greatest bowler ever, 1970s TV mainstay, 41-time titlist, crew cut known 'round the country, tumbled down a staircase Aug. 14 in a friend's Wisconsin home and died too young at 63. But that was before 19 speakers crafted a portrait with a brook rushing over rocks as background music. By the time their vivid recollections and richness of memory had spilled out, it had grown hard to believe the great Earl Anthony had perished.

Clearly, he hasn't.​

Chuck is so damn good.

 

[UPChip]

PDW is apparently Ret.

 

[Gutter]

PDW is apparently Ret.

So did Walter Ray Williams Jr. ... on the same day:

Walter Ray Williams Jr., Pete Weber Retire From PBA Tour Competition

They likely will still make sporadic appearances ... just not full-time ... and will still be on the seniors tour.

 

[Jake from State Farm]

It's hard to believe Pete may be older than **** when I was watching PBA Tour as a kid. And I loved **** Weber, the ultimate stroker.

IIRC Pete is nothing like ****
**** seemed quiet and reserved

 

[HappyCurmudgeon]

Pete went out in style. Dropping a F-bomb on FS1 during their broadcast.

 

[BitterYoungMatador2]

Bump

 

[bigpern23]

I love that clip. Although all of my time in a bowling alley while my dad played in two leagues was spent feeding quarters into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles machine...

Off topic: There’s probably a good analogy to modern Americans and their attitudes to go with the fact that they expect bowling alleys to now use oil patterns that help them reach higher scores.

I had a bowling alley owner tell me he’s had more 300 games in the last 10 years than the other 50 years of the alley’s existence combined.

The wall placard used to be this unreachable star. Now multiple people every year do it. One guy did it twice in three months.

TMNT and Double Dragon for days.

 

[Baron Scicluna]

I love that clip. Although all of my time in a bowling alley while my dad played in two leagues was spent feeding quarters into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles machine...

Off topic: There’s probably a good analogy to modern Americans and their attitudes to go with the fact that they expect bowling alleys to now use oil patterns that help them reach higher scores.

I had a bowling alley owner tell me he’s had more 300 games in the last 10 years than the other 50 years of the alley’s existence combined.

The wall placard used to be this unreachable star. Now multiple people every year do it. One guy did it twice in three months.

In the league I’m in, one of the subs, who, I guess bowls regularly in other leagues, had a 300 game in the second game and missed a 300 on his last ball by one pin in the third game. My team’s game was in the next two lanes over from the other game.

It was fascinating watching perfection. A couple of times, it was my turn to bowl in the lane next to the perfect guy’s lane, so I made extra sure to let him go first. Didn’t want to do anything to mess him up.