Bryan Deck is 40th person to bowl three perfect games – IndyStar

Bryan Deck stared down the lane at the 10 pins in front of him, unable and unwilling to see anything else. His peripheral vision was black, as if the lights were out at the Rose City Bowl in New Castle with a spotlight illuminating only what mattered.

He couldnt hear anything either. Not his teammates playful heckling to try to keep him loose. Not the buzz of the growing crowd behind him, a group that had the chance to see something remarkable on an otherwise mundane summer weeknight at an amateur adult league.

Deck did feel, though. He felt his heart pounding inside his body. He felt his body shake as he reclaimed his ball from the return. He felt as if he was going to faint. Or have a heart attack. Or both.

In a standard league, each player rolls three games, and Deck was a strike away from perfection in all three: 36 straight strikes for a total score of 900. The United States Bowling Congress has recorded only 39 other instances of a perfect evening. But Decks shot at bowling immortality was the culmination of far more than a single immaculate night.

He wiped off his ball with a yellow cloth, same as he always does, and moved quickly into position, afraid hed collapse if he took more time. He took a breath, four short, quick steps forward and sent his dark blue ball spinning toward the pins for the final strike.

Hours earlier, Deck sat in front of a sturdy black tombstone, reading the words carved into granite that memorialized his father.

J.C. Bud Deck

June 2, 1948

Feb. 9, 2006

Deck, 44, often comes to the cemetery when hes feeling down. On this particular day, June 20, it was his health that brought him out after work at TS Tech, where he manufactures seats for Hondas. In September, he had a half knee replacement. More recently, his left side has been bothering him badly enough that hes been in and out of the hospital over the past few months. Doctors havent been able to nail down exactly what the problem is, and Deck left an appointment that afternoon frustrated and unsure of what to do.

Bud introduced Bryan and his brothers, Brad and Scott, to bowling. When they were kids in New Castle he brought them to the now-defunct New Castle Lanes to watch him in his league. The boys started playing when they got old enough and eventually the four formed their own team as adults. Buds sons, particularly Bryan and Brad, eventually passed him in terms of skill, but Bud always seemed to have a knack for picking up a strike or spare in crucial moments.

The elder statesman of the Deck family enjoyed being at the alley and especially loved the connection it gave him with his kids, but the games themselves were a time for competition.

There wasnt no smiling, Scott said. It was serious. And then when we won he was all ear-to-ear smiles. Thats the good memories I miss, Dad just laughing that we smoked them.

When it wasnt his turn, Bud maintained a constant chatter of encouragement for whoever was up. When it was his turn, he bowled the same way every time: hard and straight. He didnt put any spin on the ball, never tried finesse: just frozen ropes with the intention of turning the head pin into a pile of dust.

His competitiveness made its way to the next generation. Sometimes during league games the brothers would make bets with each other if the game itself wasnt enough, each putting down five dollars against each other.

They stopped bowling when their dad died. Brad and Bryan quit for two to three years, Scott for closer to five. It didnt feel right without Bud.

That was more than a decade ago, but Bryan didnt want to bowl as he sat by the grave marker that day. He was tiredphysically and mentally. His work day starts at 4:30 a.m. His health situation was growing more complicated. Maybe he should just take a night to relax.

If he was going to play, he needed to be at the Rose Bowl by 6:15. The late afternoon gave way to evening, and about 6 p.m. Deck heard his fathers voice in his head.

Son, just go bowl. Just go do your thing. Just go bowl.

Bryan walked back to his truck and drove toward the Rose Bowl. He arrived and rolled a perfect game, which he had done before. Then he rolled another.

People think Im crazy, he said. Im not a big Im just gonna be honest with you. I know if you say your dads always with you or somebody passed away, I get it, and I do believe in it, but Im telling everybody that was the craziest thing Ive ever felt in my life.

Scotts phone buzzed sporadically with texts from his younger brother as he sat on his porch. First it was a picture of the scoreboard showing 300 in the first game. Then an update that Bryan had rolled nine more strikes. When he got another message that Brian had picked up four more, that was enough. Scott had to be there.

He drove to the Rose City Bowl and entered as discreetly as possible during the sixth frame, worried his presence would cause Bryan to overthink. Bryan noticed his brother, but it didnt matter. He was too locked in.

Bryan had seen that nights success as something of an oddity up to that point, being more surprised and almost bewildered by his double-digit consecutive strikes than anything. But his heart began to quicken as a perfect 900 came into focus. He tried to drink water between frames but could barely hold the cup because of how much his hand was shaking.

As he approached the lane entering the final frames, he began speaking under his breath.

Come on, Dad. Pull me through here.

"I was just the dummy, and he just took over, Bryan said.

His first strike in the tenth frame broke his personal three-game record of 813. The next vaulted him to 870, the Rose City Bowl Record. Then he had one ball left. Scott looked on from the back, so did Brad, joining via FaceTime, as Bryan stepped up to the foul line one last time.

Come on, Dad. One more ball. Please, one more ball.

Bryan flicked his wrist counter-clockwise as he released the ball the way he spins the ball is one of the few bowling traits he didnt inherit from Bud and it twirled from right to left across the lane, striking the right side of the front pin and exploding through the other nine. He had done it.

I dont even remember me throwing that ball. It was a blur, Bryan said. I dont even remember walking off down the lane. I dont remember nothing until I got back up on the carpet where everybody was attacking me.

He drifted toward the spectators in the behind the lanes, walking slowly with his head back and eyes pointed up. He gave Scott a hug, then acknowledged Brad on the phone. That night he sat in his house and re-watched the video of his last three rolls, basking in the aftermath of the bowling highlight of his life and reflecting on the day.

Bryan had joked to Scott that hed retire if he ever posted a 900. He has not done that in the ensuing weeks, but he hasnt used the ball since that night. Its on a shelf now, preserved in a case.

Its a reminder of a perfect evening that arose from imperfect conditions, of a night he never thought would happen. Its a reminder of an accomplishment made possible by his father.

I just wish he was here to actually see it in person, Bryan said. Id rather he be here with me. Everybody said he was with me, which he was. Apparently he was because I felt it, and theres days Ive bowled that I need him and I leave a pin, but something about that day, I will never feel the same. It was unbelievable.

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Bryan Deck is 40th person to bowl three perfect games - IndyStar