He had survived all these years without learning to play golf or even tennis and he wasn't about to start now. He found golf and tennis dull. Whenever the topic of golf or tennis came up at a party or over drinks at the club he would cheerfully announce his abiding passion for the game of bocce, and as though in unison the golf and tennis people would wander off to bore somebody else. Every time. Without fail.
He had taken the time to learn the rudiments of playing bocce just in case someone ever showed up to cover his bet, but no one did.
He had come across this self-preserving technique in New York back in the early 60s. It was then he discovered he could quell any discussion of baseball among his co-workers simply by announcing he was a fan of the Mets. The mere mention appeared to obliterate any thoughts of baseball within range of his voice, and he knew a good thing when he encountered one, and the same thing worked in its way for golf and tennis too.
One early afternoon at the club just as the conversation had turned to golf and he had played his bocce card he looked up and met the gaze of a big and somewhat squarish blonde woman he had never seen there before.
“Oh,” said the blonde, “I like bocce too.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said.
He and the big blonde went out together onto the spacious and perfectly manicured lawn behind the club and played bocce, just the two of them, until half past four.
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”Bocce is without a doubt one of the most exciting and enjoyable sports.”
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