Friday evening after a long working week and a Friday full of moderation at a business event for CEO‘s
Let me tell you about the most expensive beer I’ve ever had. Not because it cost a lot. Because it cost me everything.
There I was at Bowlo Kerkrade in Heerlen, Netherlands one of those perfect bowling alleys with the neon “LET’S GO BOWLING” sign that makes you feel like you’re in a movie. Rows of pristine bowling shoes numbered and waiting. The kind of place where champions are made.
And what did I order? An Amstel Radler.
For those who don’t know, a Radler is beer mixed with lemonade. It’s what you drink when you’re cycling in Bavaria and don’t want to get too drunk. It’s refreshing. It’s light. It’s approximately 2% alcohol.
It’s also, as I learned, the beverage of losers.
The instrument of my downfall - Amstel Radler at Bowlo Kerkrade
Here’s what happened: I bowled an 88. Britta and Christ both bowled 89.
Final scores:
One. Single. Point.
Now, I’m not saying the Radler caused my loss.
But I’m also not not saying it.
Any real beer drinker knows you don’t show up to a competition drinking half-beer. That’s like bringing a knife to a gunfight, except the knife is actually a spoon and you’re using it to eat your feelings.
Through eight frames, I was dominating. My trusty 11-pound ball (lighter means more control, more speed consistency, thank you very much) was hitting 16.47 km/h and finding the pocket like it had GPS. I was in the zone. I was inevitable.
Then Frame 9 happened. Then Frame 10 happened. And suddenly Britta and Christian were doing victory laps while I was doing math, trying to figure out how one pin could hurt this much.
Bowlo Kerkrade - Where dreams go to die, one pin at a time
The Scoreboard Autopsy:
Looking at that glowing scoreboard, you can see exactly where my soul left my body:
Meanwhile, Britta and Christian? They were drinking what I can only assume was the blood of their enemies, because they each added 9 pins in Frame 10. That’s clutch bowling. That’s champion energy. That’s what happens when you don’t order a Radler.
Now, before you blame my ball choice, let me defend my 11-pounder. People always ask: “Why not use a heavier ball?”
Because I’m not a caveman, that’s why.
The 11-pound ball gives me:
The math works: kinetic energy = ½ mass × velocity². An 11-pound ball at 16.47 km/h delivers enough energy to knock down pins without destroying my rotator cuff.
But you know what the 11-pound ball couldn’t overcome? A Radler. The bowling gods looked down at that pathetic excuse for a beverage and said, “Not today, Detlev.”
The wall of broken dreams - Bowl Loker Kerkrade shoe storage
Bowlo Kerkrade, located near the famous Roda Stadium in Heerlen, is genuinely one of the nicest bowling alleys I’ve been to.
The blue neon lighting creates this perfect atmosphere. Not too dark, not too bright. The electronic scoring is flawless. The shoes are actually clean and organized (lanes 33-44 visible in that gorgeous wall of footwear).
The facility has that Dutch attention to detail where everything just works. Their social media game is on point (
It’s the kind of place where you should bowl well. Where everything is set up for your success.
Which makes losing by one pin even more humiliating.
The venue wasn’t the problem. The scoreboard clearly wasn’t the problem. The 11-pound ball wasn’t the problem.
The Radler. The Radler was the problem.
Here’s what I learned at Bowlo Kerkrade:
Next time, and there will be a next time, I’m making different choices:
I’m ordering a real beer. A proper Amstel. Maybe even a Heineken. But they as well have some real beer, means Belgian blond beers.
Something with actual alcohol content that says “I’m here to win,” not “I’m here to stay hydrated while cycling.”
Britta and Christian can enjoy their shared victory. They earned it. They finished strong while I finished like someone who’d been drinking lemonade pretending to be beer.
But mark my words: the next time we meet at Bowlo Kerkrade, I’ll have a real beer in my hand, my trusty 11-pounder ready to roll, and exactly one more pin than last time.
Because 88 is a beautiful number. But 89 is better.
And 90? Well, that’s for people who drink two Radlers.
@Detlev loves HIVE
