Jack's the lad

BOWLS - a bit pedestrian, isn't it? Played by pensioners. And Scotsmen. Occasionally shown on BBC2 in front of 100 people in a closed-off shopping centre in Maidstone. No one cares, unless they have or are due replacement joints. That's what I thought until I played my first game.

It's my final ball. I need to touch the jack to beat my novice opponent, Martin. My wood starts a yard wide, wobbling slightly. I expect it to slow, but, like a runaway marble, it picks up pace from the verdant green. Then, three-quarters of the way down, it leans elegantly, like a motorcyclist on a bend. This is getting interesting.

As it leans, friction finally takes effect. It slows, its target in sight. The wood leaves a pale, curved mark where it rolls, like an aeroplane's vapour trail.

I stand on my tiptoes for a better view. Inside, I'm like an Aintree punter, urging my nag home. Come on, ball! The post's in sight! The wood is a foot from the jack. Almost on its side. Nearly there.

But not near enough. The wood, agonisingly, creeps on, and settles two feet from the jack. I slump from toes to heels and slap my thigh. "So close!" I yell, piercing the tranquil air. I breathe for the first time in ten seconds. That was good. Why isn't this game prime-time? And how do I get to Maidstone?

"The beauty of the game is the skill involved to get to that jack," says Darlington Woodland Bowling Club past president Brian McPherson. "People say it's an easy game, but it's not like ten-pin bowling.

There is a skill in rolling the jack. There's skill in getting the bias right. Each green is different, each rink is different. It's not easy getting that bowl to that jack."

Getting it there's fine, I think. Making it stop is the problem.

"It's 80 per cent in the head," says Bill Lowther, a former teacher at Darlington College of Technology.

"It's like cricket. And what you learn on the bowling green, you take to other places."

"I think it's a mental test," adds club president Sam Coney. "If you start playing at 6.30pm, it's nice.

By 7.30pm, the dew comes up. By 8pm, there's even more."

Bowls, I realise, is like putting on a golf green: read the green, roll the shoulder. A millimetre's miscalculation at one end causes the ball to miss by feet at the other.

"We have people here who are playing for England, but we have people who just come for a roll, just to mix and chat," says Mr McPherson, keen not to deter.

And that, I realise, is bowls' strength. Like so many sports - Sunday League football, darts, golf - people don't play primarily to hit a 30-yarder, or a nine-dart finish, or a hole-inone.

Although, of course, it's nice. We amateurs, toiling in sport's dimly-lit corner, play for the comradeship: the after-match pint, the baiting, the bragging rights. Without the 30-yarders, we come back. Without the crack, we don't.

"A lot of our members can't play 18 rinks, so they come for the social side," says Mr McPherson.

"There's darts, pool, we have an electric organ. There's plenty to do. We have a barbecue in the summer, you have a quiet beer and it's most enjoyable."

I pick up the club's what's on list. A what's not on list would have been easier. This year, events include a domino drive, barbecue, karaoke, and even fancy dress. And that doesn't include the fixtures.

There are seven men's teams and two ladies' teams, playing sides from Richmond, Shildon, Barnard Castle and across Darlington. There are also visits from touring sides. This season, for example, Somerset are coming. There's never a dull moment. And who said this was for codgers?

"When you retire from work, bowls occupies your mind," says Cresswell Oyston, 68. "I play seven times a week. The social side is great - not just for players, but their partners as well. My wife is 68 and she's just started. I never thought she would."

But, the members accept, younger players are vital. Unfortunately, national tournaments sponsored by Saga don't do much for street-cred. But there's plenty here for teenagers and twenty-somethings: competition, fresh air, companionship. And, of course, the bar.

"One of the tenants in the flat above the club had their seven-year-old daughter one afternoon, bored silly," says Mr Lowther. "She came down, had a game and for an hour or so was a happy little girl."

Darlington Woodland Club has 60 male bowlers, 25 females and 70 social members. Few seem this side of 50. Kevin McArdle, 42, is one of the younger members. "I live in the area and wondered what was across the wall," he says. "I'd never played before, but I did have a cousin who played crown green. I enjoyed it straight away. There is a good cross section of people here.

I would recommend it to younger players - I think most people would find the game very interesting."

The club plans to visit schools, start a website, and there's an open day next month. They are also working with Evolution - formerly known as Darlington's Council for Voluntary Services - which helps voluntary groups develop and grow. "We'd like to get more young members - it's in our interest," says Mr McPherson.

"We're driving as much as we can to get more people involved. Some people don't know we're behind the wall."

They don't know what they're missing. The club is hidden near Darlington Memorial Hospital, but unfurls like Tom's Secret Garden. While councilrun greens in Darlington are criticised, Woodland's immaculate lawn shimmers, even on this cold, dull day. Surrounding it are newly-painted fences and scoreboards, all done by volunteers. The club flag billows in the cold, stiff breeze. Weather included, it's as English as tea and scones.

By 4pm, the bowlers retire to the warm clubhouse.

I drive home happy, with two questions. Why don't more people play bowls? And why didn't I put less pace on that final wood?

■ Darlington Woodland Bowling Club is open to new members, playing (£70 a year) and nonplaying (£12 a year). For more information, visit the club in Hollyhurst Road, Darlington, phone 01325-268002, or visit the open weekend on May 17-18 from 2pm to 5pm. Soft shoes are needed.