Back in 2001, a group of friends and I decided to put our money where our mouths were and learn how to bowl for real. We figured that if we were going to call ourselves true blue Milwaukeeans, we needed to become more than casual, sloppy bowlers using house balls and rented shoes. We knew it was silly and ridiculous, and we didn't care.

So we joined the Wednesday night league at Bay View Bowl and proceeded to get our butts kicked for 32 weeks in a row. We learned the difference between casual bowling, in which you occasionally throw strikes but don't know why, and league bowlers, who understand oil patterns, how to pick up spares and how to become consistent.

In four years, I watched my average rise from 132 to 145 to 150 to 160, earning the "most improved bowler" keychain in my final year of my first tour of duty. Our team finished eighth out of 11 that year, and while our team average was significantly below the league average, we weren't the complete pushovers we started as.

Then, for a myriad of reasons, the team fell apart, and during the 2005-'06 season, I don't think I picked up a bowling ball. Increasingly, I found myself yearning for the camaraderie of the Wednesday night league. I missed the hokey clichés, the high-fives, the games of bowling-poker, the beer frames. I missed the activity that broke up a cold, dark week in the dead of winter, in a season longer than that of Major League baseball.

So when a new team asked me to sub last year, I was chomping at the bit to pitch in. Bowling is a little like riding a bike. Even after a long layoff, you can still throw the hook ball for good results (picking up spares gets a little trickier, however).

This year, the team asked me join as a full member, and I did. OnMilwaukee.com even sponsors this group, and three weeks into the season, we're not bowling too badly.

With 12 teams totaling 60 guys from all different walks of life, it feels like a grown up fraternity -- but with more beer bellies. Many of the guys are still there from my rookie year, and most have been bowling much longer than that. There's the regular cast of characters, like Slicer, Kingpin, Scooby and Rooster. Some of these guys I know better than others, but without a doubt, if the chips were ever down, each of these bowlers has got my back.

Then there's my team. We're not good. But we're more interested in having fun than winning trophies. Most of the time, we're shooting the breeze about the Brewers outfield or eating beef jerky or insulting each other when we throw splits.

What got me blogging about bowling, though, were the events that transpired last night. I actually bowled pretty well (for me, anyway). I shot a 519, which averages out to 173 per game. After we wrapped up, most of the league retired to the bar, as usual.

The difference was that all eyes were fixated on the Brewers game. Alley owner and bartender Andrea turned off the music and turned up the audio on the TV. When Rickie Weeks socked a home run to right field, the bar went nuts.

It felt like a scene straight out of "Major League," a collective excitement I've never experienced while watching a Brewers game (the bar subsequently cleared out when Matt Wise lost, but that's a blog for a different day). In our own weird way, the Wednesday night men's league is a little community, with more in common than what meets the eye. By and large, it's a pretty cool group of dudes.

What started out as a joke in my life has grown into a weekly hobby. It's not much exercise, and some might argue that spending three hours in a smoky, hard-drinking bowling alley actually has detrimental health effects. But it's a ton of fun. And I'm glad to be back.