Obama's recent attempt identifying with Pennsylvania's working class through bowling scored 37 pins. Either he hasn't done much bowling or he was aiming for the gutter. At first I felt better after reading he only bowled seven frames, but then I got concerned. What kind of presidential candidate quits when he's three frames from finishing? Is this evidence he's buckling under pressure?

Of course the whole episode is silly, as are Hillary's subsequent "get out of the gutter" remarks and roll-off challenge. Democratic candidates should probably distance themselves from bowling analogies during an election year, anyway, or face being connected with and publicly repudiating Michael Moore and Bowling for Columbine.

I, however, am not running for office and can discuss bowling freely as an egalitarian sport, not just for its blessed handicapping system. Bowling is for the young and old, athletically gifted and physically challenged, serious-minded and whimsical.

In league play, former pros bowl against neophytes and everybody gets slapped five for picking up a split. Plus, you can drink beer and watch television while doing it, not just as a spectator. How can you fault a sport like that?

Maybe Obama should have used bumpers, although I never let my kids, even when they were tiny. My rationale was: if you wanted to work angles, you should be in the bar playing pool, maybe even hustling some good money eventually.

Not that I'm a great (or even adequate) bowler. After a several year league break, I'm averaging a paltry 125. Last week a 171 game was followed by a 117, as if my arm had numerical dyslexia.

A month ago, one of the guys in my league bowled a perfect 300, then proceeded to start his next game with three strikes. For the bowling novice, that is 15 strikes in a row, making the term "out of my league" no longer figurative when applied to my efforts. I guess Obama shouldn't feel too bad.

My dad was a good bowler, in several leagues a week when I was a child. He didn't just want to get away from home, he sucked us into it, too. Part of bowling's charm is mixing husbands and wives, or parents and children in a long-term committed league relationship.

For around ten years, I have helped volunteer coordinate (not to be mistaken with coaching) youth leagues at the AMF Littleton, which happens to be the bowling center featured in Michael Moore's extended rumination. I never met Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold there, who bowled with the school right before their shooting spree.

I did casually know Robert Zajac, one of three whose murders after hours at AMF Broadway end the film. He was a nice kid who offered helping me submit bowling awards, fulfilling his community service hours. Six years later, the case remains unsolved.

Hating to end on a hopeless note, I will add: Maybe Obama can never go pro, but he can improve his bowling with some practice.