Before I won anything or showed any promise of excelling in this sport, before anyone knew my name and before my first 4 bagger on the lanes… there was Mr. T.
Mr. T. believed in me before there was even a reason to believe in me.
As I write this tribute to him, I’m emotional. I remember everything. And I am so grateful for everything. As I try to fight back my tears so I can see my screen, I’m overwhelmed with memories. When I think back to being a kid starting out in bowling, there are so many vivid memories that hit me hard.
Mr. T passed away right before Christmas. I got word from his granddaughter, Chenoa, and as I sat in my basement bedroom wrapping gifts for my children for Christmas, I cried. I cried because I was afraid I hadn’t told him enough how much I appreciated him and how much he shaped my bowling career.
I cried because he would never be at my future (hopefully) Hall of Fame Ceremony so I could thank him publicly and personally. It hurt my heart that he was gone and I couldn’t remind him that he WAS the reason I became who I became.
To some, he was Dick Tucker or Mr. Tucker. To me, he’ll always be Mr. T.
I’ve already written about the fact that my Grandma Betty bought my sister and me our first bowling balls when we were very young. So she got us started bowling. She bowled in a Wednesday night league with her girlfriends and just loved the sport. Never competitive at it, she encouraged us to develop our love for bowling. My dad began taking Kassy and me out to bowl at Stardust III in Dyer, IN. In the beginning, we didn’t know what we were doing but we did know it was fun. We continued to go out and find new ways to keep our bowling balls on the lane. (Hello, pre bumpers!)
But then one night, we met someone on one of our leisurely bowling nights who would change the direction of my life forever. A local coach, Dick Tucker, approached my sister, Kassy. He showed interest in developing her skills. I was pretty young at the time – maybe 8 or 9 – but I remember Mr. Tucker’s enthusiasm towards Kassy’s bowling. When my dad looked into the possibility of him as a coach, we realized quickly that Mr. Tucker was very well known in northwest Indiana. He coached great bowlers like Tim Wisniewski, Maria Igris, and his son, Rick Tucker, who was a standout bowler in the 90’s. At first, none of this involved me, but it would trickle down into my life and my life would never ever be the same.
Rather quickly, our bowling outings went from playful to more focused. We began meeting up with Mr. Tucker and his group regularly. And then nightly. Being so young at the time, I wasn’t as interested as Kassy. I did go with my dad and Kassy but I spent most of my time at the video games. (Now I know where Jersey gets that from!)
I would throw shots here and there and was mainly there to be social, and was happy to be out late on a school night. And I quickly became friends with the whole Tucker group. That was easy because they were really great people. Mr T. had a knack for bringing good people together. That was just one of his super powers.
Then Kassy started winning tournaments. I was about 10 or 11. Kassy had been practicing more. She was more focused and more motivated. But most importantly, she was seeing results. She was 13/14 and was completely thriving on the lanes. I remember thinking, “Well, I want to win tournaments too.” It was the first time I realized that you get what you put in.
And from that day on everything changed.
I spent less time playing Addams Family pinball and more time trying to understand the sport. Before I knew it, Mr. Tucker became Mr. T to me.
He and I developed such a tight bond. I was the little sister but he never made me feel like it. At a time where no one knew my name, Mr. T. spent just as much time with me on the lanes as anyone else in the group. Even as much time as his son, Scott (who will always be “Scotty” to me), with whom I also became great friends. How could I not become best friends with these bowlers who I was spending every single night with on the lanes?
I write a lot about a turning point in my life when I was 12 years old. I have vivid memories of truly believing that I could be one of the best bowlers in the world one day. Coming from such a small town, I got the feeling that people looked at me like, “who do you think you are that you think you could be the best in the world in anything?” But Mr. T didn’t. Mr. T fed my desire to continue to learn. Mr. T helped me back up when I fell down, or didn’t understand, or wanted to let this bowling thing just be something my big sister did. Mr. T. never gave up on me. He was the reason that I would one day go on to become a 3-time World Bowler of the Year. It started in Dyer, IN with Mr. T.
Now that I look back at it, we lived a strange childhood. I would go to school, come home, do my homework, and my mom would make me take a 2-hour nap. My dad would come home from work, have dinner, maybe catch a quick nap and before long we were back at Stardust Bowl III in Dyer, IN waiting for the smoky leagues to finish.
We couldn’t get a lane until 9:30 pm so that’s what we did. Every night. In middle school and in high school. We would practice until midnight most nights and as long as I kept my grades up I was allowed to. After practice, we would sometimes go out to breakfast as a group. Breakfast. On a school night. At 12am. Some of my fondest memories happened there.
Mr. T was not just a great coach; he cared about us. He was our friend. In middle school, I wore penny loafers, and one day Mr. T. came to practice with something special for me. He worked at the Gary steel mill and he brought me two silver-plated pennies for my shoes.
I remember bowling with a towel under my arm. I didn’t really understand the concept of keeping my elbow in at the time but he certainly did. I remember how hard it was and how much we laughed.
I remember how much I loved getting him coffee. I knew just how he liked his cream. As soon as the cream puffed up from the bottom, that was a perfect coffee for Mr. T!
I remember Mr. T being kind to everyone. I’m not sure I ever saw him in a bad mood. It was hard for me to graduate high school and move on from him. I knew that my practices would never be the same as they were back when they were in Dyer, IN at 10pm at night on a school night.
Before there was Palmer Fallgren, and Fred Borden, and Jeri Edwards, and Gordon Vadakin, and Kenny Yokobosky, and Rod Ross, and Bryan O’Keefe, and Kim Kearney, and Bill Straub, and Paul Klempa – there was Mr. T.
Mr. T was the reason I believed in myself before anyone knew my name, before I made it to Team USA, to the Collegiate National Championships and long before becoming a World Champion.
None of it would have happened if not for Mr. T.
If you’re still reading this, do me a favor. Text your coach and tell them thanks. Thank them for the time they sacrificed. Thank them for their belief in you. Tell them how much you appreciate them.
Mr. T. will always hold a special place in my heart. A space carved out just for him that includes memories of having the courage to dream about being the best in the world and learning what having a work ethic really means. It’s a space filled with so much love… Oh, and french toast at 1am on a school night at The Commander restaurant.
