At A Recent Dinner With Friends, Someone Asked, why many professional bowlers seem so vain at tournament sites. Well, if this accusation is true (and I believe it is, to some extent), it's because all professional athletes have nothing to fall back on but their persona and personality. A lawyer has his practice, a musician has his instrument, a contractor has his work force, and so on. The athlete has nothing but himself. His only identity lies chiefly in his total personality and how it reacts to competition and external forces. Not only is his talent locked up within himself, but in a true sense, it is irreplaceable commodity.

A musician can uncover a better arrangement, a lawyer can seek better legal procedure and the contractor can hire a more skilled labor force. The athlete, however, has nothing to rely on but himself and his innate ability, which can't be replaced or easily rekindled if it goes astray. Indeed, his mind, his body, his bearing, spirit and mannerisms represent the professional athlete's total and only resources. So he is always on guard against any encroachment that would lessen his performance.

There are other reason for a professional athlete's vanity, one of them being emotional... like the need for approval and admiration which is strong in most athletes. That's why many of them risk their egos and are willing to endure the "slings and arrows" a lackluster performance brings from the public. Further, the professional athlete is so inextricably involved with his given sport, the distinction between everyday life and his profession often becomes blurred, placing stains on his life which can result in somewhat unattractive behavior. Though this is the price some pay for fame and fortune, the professional athlete should not be criticized for treating himself like a special person, for that is exactly what he/she is.

The personalities of the "greats" undeniably transcend the norm. Many bowlers have qualified as proficient keglers, even champions, but normally, only two or three in each generation reach a level of dominance that fires the public's acclaim and insures then an indelible place in sport's history.

The "greats" share rare mental attributes and temperaments that are more astonishing than their demonstration of technique itself. Factors that distinguish the "greats" from their lesser competitors are intangibles such as self-discipline, resilience, keen analysis, and the ability to maintain neuromuscular control under the severest pressure situations. A "great" also exemplifies the power of positive thought. Fear of failure? Forget about it! Above all, he has a deep-seated will to win, so as to prove to himself and the world that he is the best. In the final analysis, it is this fervent compulsion to excel that binds all of his attributes into a formidable force.

Having watched all the "greats" for more than 60 years, I believe two men best exemplified this compulsion.

First came Don Carter. In my opinion, he was the most accurate bowler I ever witnessed, with arguably the best concentration. Trying to compare bowlers over the course of several generations is pointless. All that can be said is, "Did Carter dominate in his day and age?" The answer is a resounding, "Yes." I never saw a bowler who controlled a ball on the lanes like he did, from a standpoint of action as well as accuracy. His style and technique seemed more robotic than human. He seemed oblivious to challenge; he gave you the impression it was just a question of how many pins he would win by. On the lanes, his mystique and personality instilled fear in most opponents. In his best years, it was just a question of the other competitors fighting for second place once he took the tournament lead. For several years, Carter dominated professional bowling like no one before or since.

Then there was Earl Anthony. It would be difficult to find two more contrasting emissaries of bowling than Carter and Anthony. Using a race horse analogy, Carter usually exploded out of the gate, took the lead and was never headed. Meanwhile Anthony normally laid off the pace and came flying down the stretch. Yet, they did have a lot in common. Anthony's forte was his response to challenge. In many tournaments where is seemed he couldn't make the cut to top 24, he'd slip into the finals by the end of the day. From that point on, it was a predictable and progressive climb to the top. I had the privilege of being with Anthony many times, he was always "down to earth" and never affected by his success. That was the secret to his great popularity and appeal. But challenge him, and you had the tiger by the tail.

"Level with me," Anthony once said to me, "how good was Carter?" My reply: "Very, very good." To which he responded, "I would've loved to have had a piece of him." I replied, "I'm sure Carter feels the same way about you." Man, would that have been something to see.