All of this makes for a simple but challenging game.
We were ready to give it a shot. Wade and I joined a team with Powell, Judy Mize and Travis Craig, all experienced players. Another road bowling veteran, John Nelson, joined us, acting as a "spotter" down the road and occasionally subbing in for throws. The role of the spotter is very important in helping direct your throw. They can warn you about hazards or obstacles in the road, such as cars, rocks or potholes. One thing the spotter should not do, Powell warned, is try to stop the ball with his or her foot when it's still moving; doing so risks crushing a toe or an ankle.

An Irish road bowler during a recent match in West Virginia. The sport, in which players roll a ball over a two-mile stretch of road in the least possible number of rolls, is catching on.
(John Bright For The Washington Post)
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I had the luck of neither the Irish nor the beginner in my debut match.
The first third or so of the course was uphill, culminating atop the aptly named Shenanigan Hill, making this section the most challenging in terms of raw power. At age 27, my junior high softball-playing days are long past, and it showed. Trust me when I say it's demoralizing when the ball rolls back down the hill toward you -- even slightly. After one particularly weak throw, I began to suspect the cows were heckling me.
However, my ineptitude detracted only slightly from the road bowling experience. Mark Twain thought golf was a good walk spoiled, and after a few embarrassing throws, I began to feel much the same way about road bowling -- a beautiful country walk periodically interrupted by "my turn."
Of course, my walk would have taken a lot longer had my team not also included the local road bowling star, 28-year-old Craig, co-holder of the course record. Watching Craig play is reason enough to attend a road bowling match -- this guy is awesome. Even in a casual game, you get a sense of the combination of muscle and finesse that helps him set records and compete against the top players in Ireland and Boston. Several times he rescued our team with powerful shots that never wavered from the road, even as it curved.
However, this isn't a sport just for big, beefy guys. A couple of sixth-grade girls were playing well in front of us, finishing in 46 throws.
Going downhill requires more control than power, especially where the road twists. More than a few of our team's shots slid off the road entirely, necessitating a dive into mudholes and briars to fetch them. At this point, most everyone's pants legs were rolled up -- or filthy -- from running down into the ditches after the balls. Retrieval is not always successful, though, and lost balls are common enough that signing up for the tournament requires a $5 deposit, which you forfeit if you lose your ball. Regular players often bring their own balls. Our teammate Nelson, for instance, has his own, which he painted bright yellow, making it easier to spot in the brambles.
Mize said some of the competitors in the Saturday match had painted their bowls green, to coordinate with the festival decorations. The fair itself was low-key and wholesome, drawing families from nearby towns as well as college kids and senior citizens.
After a few solid throws, including one that successfully took a curve (don't ask me how), I began to feel more comfortable with the game. Until I saw The Sign. About halfway through the course was a stark notice marking the longest single throw on it -- 422 yards. This jaw-dropper was tossed by a visiting Irish player.