Paeng Strikes Gold

Bowling is a particularly social sport. A strong kinship develops between enthusiasts since it is often played as a team, where one member’s middling score is offset by another’s game of a lifetime. The communal quality of bowling extends to the use of shoes that have hugged scores of other feet, shoes that are imbued with the collective bouquet of the hardworking executive-types who tend to gravitate toward the polished lanes after work. Bowlers even share some physical characteristics –a more muscled dominant arm, the paunch of those who have chosen a game that allows you to eat, drink and smoke during lulls.

Bowling is also a jovial sport. Good-natured taunts ring out when a ball dances its slow, self-conscious waltz along the gutter. Cheers erupt when all ten pins crash into the wooden flooring after a strike. High fives are exchanged; fists pump the air. The banter rarely stops, as participants are also their own most supportive spectators, friends willing each other to snag that spare. Paeng’s Sky Bowl in old, incongruous Anson Arcade along Pasay Road in Makati is typical of the nightly bowling scene–jam-packed, noisy, happy. Until a large, handsome, fair-skinned man unhurriedly walks behind the crowd of bowlers, that is. Then the venue goes silent as all heads turn the man’s way.

If you doubt Paeng Nepomuceno’s celebrity among this clique, you clearly haven’t dropped by one of his bowling centers when the world’s greatest bowler is around. It takes just one intrepid customer to approach the bowling legend for an autograph before a mad rush for the nearest felt-tipped pen ensues. They ask him to sign scraps of paper, handkerchiefs, even the shirts on their backs. Through it all, Paeng is gracious. He asks one fan if Alan is spelled with one or two "L’s." He modestly ignores the chants of "Idol!" Hope you’re all having a good time, he smiles.

With all due respect to Bata Reyes and Flash Elorde, the 45-year-old Paeng Nepomuceno is the most accomplished Filipino athlete ever. Of course, there will always be pedantry over whether or not bowling should even be considered a sport, but few would begrudge the steely nerves and pinpoint accuracy necessary to excel at the game. Perhaps the physical challenges, too, of bowling are underrated. Says Paeng, "In bowling, you throw 15- or 16-pound balls hundreds of times a day. You should feel as strong at the end as you do at the start of the bowling session."

Even non-bowlers look at Paeng as a source of national pride. His name compensates for the ignominy of Philippine entries in The Guinness Book of World Records under sections such as "World’s Greatest Thief," "Worst Maritime Disasters," and "Most Hot Chilies Eaten in One Sitting." Paeng is in the trivia book for being the only person to win four World Cup titles, the Holy Grail of bowling, in three decades. He won his first World Cup in Tehran in 1976, becoming the youngest man to win the event at 19. He is acknowledged worldwide as the greatest international bowler in the history of the sport.

In recognition of his achievements, Juan Antonio Samaranch personally awarded Paeng with the prestigious IOC President’s Trophy, the first for the sport of bowling. The International Bowling Hall of Fame displays a 7-foot photo of Paeng at its bowling museum entrance in St. Louis, Missouri. He is the first male Hall of Fame inductee.

In the Philippines, Paeng became the first athlete to be bestowed both the Legion of Honor medal–the highest award for a Filipino–and the Presidential Medal of Merit. The Philippine Sportswriters Association named him "Athlete of the Year" an unprecedented five times, enshrined him as the first athlete in the PSA Hall of Fame, and subsequently named him "Athlete of the Century." Both houses of Congress named Paeng as the "Greatest Filipino Athlete of All-Time."

His fabled bowling career started innocently enough. A chilly Baguio rainstorm forced the Nepomuceno men to abandon their golf game at Camp John Hay. Paeng, his father Angel (a founder of Celebrity Sports Plaza and Green Valley Country Club) and his brother Angel Jr. sought shelter inside the Mile High Bowling Center.

"I asked my dad if we could try bowling instead. We played two games. From then on, I was hooked," says Paeng. The future Hall of Famer scored a pedestrian 62 in his first ever bowling game. He was 12.

Angel, who later would become his son’s award-winning coach, enrolled Paeng in a junior league. The bowling convert played with his age group every Saturday for the next 12 weeks. At age 15, Paeng was Philippine Junior Champion, outplaying 18-year-olds. Four years after that, he was champion of the world. Each decade was highlighted by tournament wins–in all, Paeng has won more than 100. His play in the 1980s and ’90s, though, was marked by constant pain. His left wrist was giving up on him.

"Osteoarthritis–wear and tear because of bowling, constant use of the same joints. I was told by my Philippine doctors to exhaust all means before undergoing surgery. I would go for therapy and medications. I would take cortisone injections twice a year. There came a time when the shots wouldn’t work anymore. I was wearing a special wrist guard made especially for me to keep the pain to a minimum," says Paeng.

In 1999, Paeng decided on surgery. He won the World Tenpin Masters held in London, England against a formidable field made up of six former world champions. It was his last scheduled tournament before entering the hospital. The surprising victory did not dissuade him from going under the knife. Paeng says, "It didn’t make me want to postpone the surgery. At that point, I couldn’t write or drive without pain. There was bone-to-bone friction–there was no longer any cartilage in the middle."

Shortly after, Dr. Julio Paleisnik, author of the oft-referenced The Wrist, operated on the Philippines’ most famous wrist. Paeng Nepomuceno, the world’s greatest bowler, did not touch a bowling ball for the next two years.

Paeng had never lost a World Cup as top seed– he seemed impervious to the pressure of a sport that measures adjustments in millimeters. It says much about the man’s character that he did not fall into a depression.

"The objective of the surgery was to take the pain away," he says. "It would be a bonus if I could bowl again. I waited two years to start bowling again because my grip was weak. Every month they would test my grip and for a long time my left grip was weaker than the right even if I’m left-handed. I was prepared for the worst. I had won so many championships. There was nothing more to achieve. I was contented with what I had done."

After two years in limbo, it was time for his first bowl. Once again, it was just Paeng and his dad, just like all the countless hours they had spent perfecting his technique. He started off with 8-lb. balls–the weight used by children (Paeng normally bowls with 15-lb. balls). He did not bowl a strike first up, but the old fire was rekindled. Paeng was back.

"I had to modify my release. I had lost 60 percent flexibility in my left wrist. I came in 3rd in the World Tenpin Masters, my first tournament after surgery. After a few months using my new release, I won again in Thailand. Then I bowled a perfect game early this year at the Malaysian International Open. I won the Korean International Open two months prior to the Asian Games. Then the Asian Games gold," he says with relief.

Incredibly, the man who conquered the world had never won an Asian Games gold. It was the one honor missing from his collection. Perhaps it is his jinx; perhaps not. In the recent Busan, South Korea Games, Paeng partnered with RJ Bautista for the gold in the Men’s Doubles Event. Again, the Men’s Singles gold eluded him as he finished a faraway 8th. There are other reasons for Paeng’s repeated failures at the Asian Games.

In the past two Games, no lefty has reached the finals. It is no coincidence that the host nation fields right-handed bowlers exclusively. Paeng is so feared that the bowling lanes are oiled to favor the orthodox bowlers.

"The American company in charge of oiling the lanes in Busan said that the kind of oil used was replaced by the thinner kind of oil. In effect, the lanes played drier that morning. I was prepared for things like that because I had been to two Asian Games before, and worse things have happened. In the past you could open the oiling machine and change the distance. At least in Busan, there was a password. What they did instead was change the kind of oil," he recounts.

There are other ways the host nation seizes the advantage. "In the Busan doubles event, when we would take the lead over the Koreans, they would then shut down the machines pretending to fix it. We would wait for ten minutes and lose our momentum. It happened about six times. Some competitors would also talk trash to you."

It’s not easy, however, to rattle a man who has been bowling for as long as his upstart competitors have been on this earth. Add to this advantage in experience Paeng’s newfound outlook, one that has been mellowed by his injury-induced hiatus. He says, "I still play for fun. That’s been my attitude these past two years. I’m serious about it but I enjoy what I do–if I win, it’s good, but if I don’t, that’s okay. I also still have to listen to my wrist. It still gives me a tiny bit of pain once in a while. Most of the joints were fused so I have to pay special attention to it."

Moreover, Paeng has the support of a tight-knit family. Married to Saira "Pinky" Puyat, managing director of the AMF-Puyat chain of bowling centers, the couple has three children. Rafael, 16, briefly gave bowling a go until he discovered Brazilian Jiu-jitsu and its elaborate locks and chokes. Saira, the middle child, is an equestrian. She’s been riding for almost a year. Isabel, the youngest at six, started bowling last month. Ominously, the young girl is also a lefty.

Paeng can afford to concentrate on his bowling as competent managers run his small empire of six bowling centers carrying his name, along with 14 pro shops. Make no mistake–it is Paeng’s extraordinary success as a bowler that keeps the customers coming. During the photo shoot for this story, the great man gamely stood over the lanes he continues to lord over, but not before politely seeking the consent of the bowlers using them. In a heartbeat, they agreed. As Paeng flashed his famous shy smile, a crush of fans milled around the Starweek photographer, many taking their own pictures using Nokia 7650s and digital cameras. They gently coerced him to pose with them for a group picture. One particularly happy customer shouted, "Say ‘champion!’"

The incident was spontaneous and revealing. Bowlers understand the recent adversity experienced by their champion, and they respect him deeply for overcoming it. They may never reach the heights attained by the 6’2", 200-lb. four-time world champ, but it is enough that in their favorite sport, a strong, quiet Filipino is the best of all time.