Perfection

I saw a gentleman bowl a 300 two lanes down from me yesterday. 300. 12 straight strikes. By the 8th frame there was a small crowd. By the 10th everyone in the bowling alley was cheering around his lane. Every. Single. Person. I could have taken all the money in the cash register and no one would have noticed.

But I didn’t. And neither did anyone else.

Perfection is amazing. It's perfect. You become immersed in it. In some small way, we were all up there bowling strike after strike. It’s a glow that makes whatever dirty bills and cheap coins I could have taken seem trivial. When he hit the final strike, I saw strangers giving each other high-fives and pats on the back. We did it!

Not many activities offer “perfect” as an attainable goal. A 59 in golf can always be beaten by a 58. A perfect 10 in gymnastics is still subjective. All it requires is that 7 judges agree that the routine was tough enough and was performed with no apparent flaws. But there’s always a better routine.

I was perfect once. December 5, 2005. Microsoft Hearts.














My co-workers, however, failed to embrace the glow.