This Local Bowling League Has Smiles to Spare

Photograph courtesy of Westerly Unified Bowling League.

It’s Friday night at Alley Katz and the Westerly Unified Bowling League is killing it. The first thing that hits you, like a spinning Brunswick to the one-two pocket, are the smiles. The high-fives and cheers roll from lane one through lane twelve as each bowler finishes a frame — regardless of how many pins remain standing. 

The second thing you notice is very few pins — if any — are left standing. These particular Katz are baggers: bowlers who throw one strike after another.

The thing you don’t notice is that this league is composed of disabled and nondisabled adults.

About a year ago, Sherry Hall, the owner of a furniture store in town, was trying to bring her son out of a funk. Jonathan had been bowling since he was ten, and truly — it was the only thing he enjoyed. He had short-term memory loss from a traumatic brain injury, palsy on his left side and occasional epileptic seizures. But his physical differences and social anxieties disappeared at the lanes. After he aged out of the youth league, he tried to transition to an adult team.

“He was twenty-two and not fitting in with the traditional bowling league. He was growled at by one of the regular bowlers for not having lane courtesy, so he quit. For a couple of months he was really
depressed,” Hall says. “I said, ‘I think we should start our own league.’”

She got permission from Alley Katz, threw up a Facebook post, and hoped to attract a dozen people; twenty-two signed up. In its third twelve-week session, WUBL has forty-four bowlers: individuals with diverse physical, cognitive and emotional presentations, amid cousins, friends, retirees and Personal Assistance Services and Supports workers on their own time. 

“It’s a nice way to turn off teacher mode, and have fun,” says Shannon Johnson, a special education teacher from Wakefield.

“I do it to teach them bowling etiquette,” says Steven Pommanville, a DoorDash driver.

They celebrate birthdays, holidays and friendships at the bowling alley. Each session ends with a pizza party and the presentation of a trophy memorializing each bowler’s high score. It’s mostly free for the bowlers with disabilities, courtesy of donations from some fourteen local businesses. (But they could always use more, Hall says.)

“It’s a way for adults with disabilities to socialize in a natural way,” says Maria Bucchino, whose daughter Kiera has autism and wicked action on the ball. “When they leave the school system, they don’t have anything like this.”

Sal Costanza, a former high school Spanish teacher and Kiera’s teammate, watches her pick off another spare. “If this were a real league, she’s the one they would count on,” he says. “Not me.”