It’s 2:00 on a quiet Friday afternoon in Winona. No more than three cars grace the parking lot at Winona Bowl, one of them being my own. The lone sound as I walk into the bowling alley is the soft hum of a drill. In a matter of hours, people walking through those same doors will be hit with sensory overload. Black lights, the unmistakable sound of bowling balls making contact with pins, the smell of greasy food wafting from the kitchen, laughter and loud conversation. These are the sights, sounds, and smells that Brian Fakler has become accustomed to after 21 years at Winona Bowl.
I wait patiently at the front desk for the drilling to stop. When it does, Fakler walks out of the pro shop, joking with a customer. He greets me, and then finishes his sale. “See you tonight!” he calls after the customer. The customer reciprocates with the wave of a hand.
The ball began rolling (pun intended) on May 4, 1988. Fakler, along with four other partners bought Winona Bowl. From that original crew, Fakler and one other remain. Before buying Winona Bowl, Fakler worked full-time for an oil company while part-timing at Winona Bowl and Westgate Bowl. “I had a background in maintenance. I knew how to fix things,” he tells me. “It just seemed like the bowling alley would be a good fit.”
For Fakler, bowling was a family tradition. His dad was one of the best bowlers around. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Fakler bowled the first of his 38 perfect games in 1990. “I was lined up for my final throw and a guy two lanes over was shouting about needing a ball!” he tells me. He got the strike anyways. If 38 perfect games doesn’t convince you this guy is good, his average should. He has been in the Winona-area top 10 for the past 20 years. Last year, he held the top spot. “I’m the best bowler in the city of Winona. I know that may sound arrogant, but it’s the truth!” His co-worker laughs, but quickly nods in agreement.
Thirty minutes into our interview, Fakler’s next ball appointment walks through the door. He disappears to the pro shop, where the sound of the drill starts up again. When he reemerges, two more customers have walked through the door and are waiting patiently with me at the counter. He gets them their shoes and sets them up on lane 14. “We can’t bowl without drinks!” the customer says. Without skipping a beat, Fakler takes their orders, vodka tonic for him, gin and tonic for her, and jumps behind the bar. “You do it all, don’t you?” the man says. Fakler responds, “Jack of all trades, master of none!” He hands over their drinks and wanders back over to me.
“I remember walking from the middle school to Maple Leaf Lanes with my class,” replies Fakler, when I ask what his first memory of bowling is. By the time he was in fifth grade he was already bowling in organized leagues. “I remember the first time I shot a 600. It didn’t count! My buddy added up the score wrong, it was only a 590!” He remembers taking busses to state tournaments when he was a junior. “Those were the good ol days!” He’s still friends with many of the guys from that team to this day.
This time we’re interrupted by the telephone ringing. Fakler takes the call. A plumber approaches the counter while he’s on the phone. After he hangs up, he and the plumber talk business. All I make of it is some sort of sprinkler issue. I just sit back and take it all in. The sprinkler issues appear to be resolved as Fakler and the plumber are now taking friendly jabs at each other. They exchange goodbyes, and again he wanders back over to me.
“Is this a typical day?” I ask him. “Not at all typical!” he tells me. “I think it’s a special treat just because you’re here!” We laugh. Instead ,a typical day looks something like this: 9:00 a.m.- Fakler gets to work and takes care of the bank deposits and any machine maintenance and clean-up that needs to be done; 12:00 p.m.- Fakler starts with his pro shop appointments and oils and dresses the lanes; 4:00 p.m.- the high school bowling team starts filtering in for practice; 5:00 p.m.- Fakler goes home for “dinner with the wife” and a quick shower; 6:30 p.m.- back to the bowling alley, this time for play rather than work; 11:00 p.m.- finally returns home for the night. “Then, I get back up and do it all over again!”
Game one has been completed on lane 14. Their drinks need replenishing. Fakler excuses himself and returns to the bar. He hands over the drinks and greets the two new customers that have made their way to the counter. He glances over at me, “Next ball appointment! This one’s a Spongebob ball!” Off to the pro shop they go. Five minutes later they’re back, with a shiny, new Spongebob ball. He rings the sale up and right before the customers walk away, he throws in a pair of shoes and a few games for free. With smiles on their faces, the customers give their thanks and exit the same way they came.
“I love meeting with the customers,” he tells me. “It’s definitely the best part of my job.” In his 21 years at Winona Bowl, Fakler has met his fair share of them. “I wish I would have written a daily journal about what goes on here. You can’t even imagine what I witness. League players are different every year. Some of them are asses. Some of them are really nice. I see little kids come in and bowl their first game and then watch them grow up right in front of my eyes. Same with employees. They come in looking to earn a little cash while they are in high school or college. Then I get an invitation to their wedding!”
Lanes nine and 10 have been in use since midway through this interview. A young man is here practicing, for what I’m not sure. He finishes his games and leaves his score sheet on the counter. Fakler tells him to have a good weekend and that he’ll see him next week. With the afternoon crowd looming, I sense it is time to conclude my interview. As if on cue for my last question, a strike is bowled on lane 14 and the pins fall.
“Does the sound of the ball hitting the pins ever get annoying after hearing it day in and day out?” I ask. He laughs and says no! “It’s nice actually. I’ll tell you this though. I can be sitting at the bar having a conversation with someone and I’ll hear a pin get stuck or a bearing break. My wife hates it, thinks I’m not listening… and truthfully, sometimes I’m not!” Laughing, I thank him for meeting with me despite having so many other things to do.
After 2 hours of interruptions I finally gather up my things and head towards the door. The man in lane 14 shouts over to me: “Did you finally get your interview?” “I sure did! It was worth the wait!” I respond. The last thing I hear as I walk out is the phone ringing. I’m willing to bet it was Fakler who answered it.
