By Ron Kantowski , January 29, 2007

Ron Kantowski takes one small step with an 'upright, honest guy' who helped make this bowling tournament a classic

He wasn't trying to make history because history had already been made, in 1986. It is George Branham III who is to bowling what Neil Armstrong is to walking on the moon, having become the first black man to win a Professional Bowlers Association title in Chicago nearly a generation ago.

So perhaps that was why Billy Oatman wasn't feeling any pressure under the TV lights when he lined up against Jason Couch on Sunday in the finals of the PBA's Motel 6 Classic at the Strike Zone at Sunset Station.

Couch was coming off a win last weekend and just might be the hottest bowler since Ernie McCracken in "Kingpin," what with five consecutive top-six finishes. But all that prevented Oatman from becoming Buzz Aldrin was a bad break in the 10th frame.

The 41-year-old PBA rookie began the 10th with a strike and basically needed another one for the win. He threw a near-perfect ball, too. Only the 7 and 10 pins didn't respond like they are supposed to.

The seven gave in and fell.

The 10 did not.

The crowd, which had been pulling for Oatman, groaned.

Couch wins (again), 236-228.

A 15-time winner on tour and a classy act both on and away from the lanes, Couch walked to where Oatman's mother, Joyce, was sitting and congratulated her. He told her that Billy was such a good bowler and such a good guy that he couldn't imagine him staying titleless for very long.

So Oatman, in keeping with the space pioneer theme, became Michael Collins, the command module pilot of Apollo 11. He didn't get to walk on the moon, although the $13,000 second-place check will buy a lot of Tang.

But this wasn't about the money, although Oatman said if he had won, he was going to take $5,000 of the $25,000 first-place prize to sponsor a young black bowler on tour, a luxury he never had when his mother was paying his way into tournaments.

It was about earning respect and realizing a dream he has had since he starting bowling at age 6. It also was about the smiles on the faces of the black spectators seated on the risers, virtually every one of whom came down to shake his hand or pat him on the back afterward.

"He's just an upright, honest guy," said Joel Williams of the Cleveland suburb of Maple Heights, Ohio, who had met Oatman on the circuit when both were a lot younger and began following his friend around tour when Oatman at long last qualified last year.

Upright and honest. When you turn in your final scoresheet, those are two marks any man would like to have alongside his name. Ironically, they also describe the biggest bowling shot of Oatman's career.

That 10-pin stayed upright when Oatman honestly thought it would fall.

"It felt good, I thought it was there," said Oatman, who averaged 245 in 16 match-play games before Sunday's final four.

Couch thought it was there, too. At least after he saw the replay.

"It was a good shot," said Couch, who, like many players, does not watch his opponent bowl. "He just didn't get a break."

Well, maybe not in the 10th frame Sunday. But it was a literal break that made it possible for Oatman to pay his own way into this tournament.

He had finished 11th in the PBA qualifying event in Indiana. Only 10 earn an exemption and the coveted $1,300 weekly travel stipend. But when Ritchie Allen broke his wrist, Oatman, the first alternate, received his exemption.

Sunday's TV appearance notwithstanding, just qualifying to roll strikes and spares against bowling's best was really the culmination of a dream for Oatman, who grew up at 117th and Halstead on Chicago's gritty South Side. He had worked as a janitor and then in a machine shop until he was laid off in 2000. Besides a part-time gig delivering deep-dish pizzas, there hasn't been much steady work. So he and a friend named Derek Banks went bowling for dollars by hustling for them.

Oatman and Banks would find a bowling center, ask who the best player was and challenge him for a small jackpot. Sometimes it was $25, sometimes $100.

One day, in Ashland, Tenn., it was $500. There weren't many friendly faces on the risers that day. Sensing trouble before the 10th frame, Oatman quietly told Banks to get the car and pull up to the door.

Oatman went to the restroom to buy a little time. When he came out, he saw a lot of unfriendly faces headed toward him. He ran and jumped into the car and Banks drove north just as fast as he could.

"Oh, you heard about that?" Oatman said with a big grin.

When I asked if finishing second on national TV was better than finishing first in front of an angry mob in Tennessee, he smiled even wider.

"It sure is safer," he said.

Ron Kantowski can be reached at 259-4088 or at ron@lasvegassun.com.