Chicago Bowler Strikes Gold

October 25, 2006
BY GREG COUCH Sun-Times Columnist

WAUWATOSA, Wis. -- This is the dream. Billy Oatman has had it since he was 6, and now he has made it. He's on the pro bowlers tour. The riches are more than expected.

''I can't believe it,'' he said Tuesday, after bowling in the USBC Masters. ''Just a few months ago...''

A few months ago, Oatman, a South Sider, was driving a delivery truck, part time, no benefits. And now?

''The tournament goes through Sunday,'' he said. ''Then I'm back to Chicago Monday and Tuesday for deliveries, and then to Michigan Wednesday for the next tour stop.''

OK, so he's still driving the truck, but there are other riches as a professional athlete who has reached his dreams.

''I'm just trying to get them to turn the lights back on in my apartment,'' he said.

What?

''Kidding.''

Here is the story of a dream. It's not the usual story. Oatman wasn't brought up the way kids are today, driven, driven, driven until he got there. Did I mention that Oatman is 40? A 40-year-old rookie, a former janitor, then machine worker who was laid off. He used to drive around the country with a buddy, hustling bowling.

Now he's legit. Oatman, an entirely likable person, has cleaned up nicely. On Tuesday, he averaged 206.6. Today, there will be a cut from 499 bowlers to 125. He's on the bubble, on the right side.

See, Oatman's dream has an edge of reality to it. Real life mixed in there, and is still there, blending with the dream. A few years ago, before reaching his dream, he drove a 1976 Chevy van. Now, with the riches? A 1995 Chevy van.

Showing the way
Oatman is getting a lot of publicity, including a recent USA Today story, because he's the first black bowler exempt on the PBA Tour. The tour is promoting him that way, too, and also is promoting Kelly Kulick, the first woman to qualify for an exemption.

But they've only had this exempt status for the last three years, and there have been a handful of successful black bowlers in the past, including George Branham III.

Still, Oatman is the only current exempt black bowler, and he feels real social pressure. Black bowlers have a harder time reaching the tour than white bowlers, he said, because they have a harder time finding sponsors. Oatman plans to start a fund to help young black bowlers.

On Tuesday, a black college student and avid bowler, Cortney Crape, 20, from Milwaukee, followed Oatman around. He collected Oatman's gear between games, moved it from lane to lane. Crape bowls in a 32-team league, at the AMF Bowlero Lanes in suburban Milwaukee, that is made up almost entirely of black bowlers. He idolizes Oatman. They have run into each other several times, and on Monday, Oatman gave him a bowling ball for his birthday.

But the story being sold about Oatman doesn't live up to his real story. Did I mention that Oatman's mother, Joyce, had to pop for the $450 entrance fee this week? This is Oatman's first stop on tour, and the money hasn't come in yet.

We talked about it over a beer Tuesday in the pub connected to the lanes. ''Budweiser,'' he said.

Oatman gave the details of his life. He grew up on the South Side, and his mother was a teacher, his father a truck driver. He was always a big kid and now is 5-11, 240 pounds. His friends thought he should be a football player, not a bowler.

''I went out the first day of practice in high school and got roughed up real good,'' he said. ''One hit, actually. I said, 'I'm done.'''

He lived near a bowling alley. He went on to bowl at Wichita State but then didn't turn pro, he said, because he was offered the security of a 411 operator's job at the phone company. Eventually, Ryerson, the metal company, hired him.

''I was a janitor,'' he said. ''It paid $16.50 an hour, with benefits.

He made it to machine operator but was laid off after 10 years in 2000.

''I haven't had a real job since,'' he said.

Bowling for dollars
He has worked at CEO Deliveries, a food delivery company, part time, he said. How do you live on that?

''I don't have much,'' he said. ''My rent is $400 a month, and my car was paid for. The only thing I spent money on was bowling.''

The dream survived. He bowled in local tournaments as a kid and amateur events as an adult. And he and friend Derek Banks drove across the country, hustling.

''We'd just drive to all the bowling alleys and ask who's the best bowler in the house,'' he said. ''We would like a friendly jackpot game. It could be as little as $25 or $100, or more.''

One time in Ashland, Tenn., it was for $500.

''I could tell the guys were real prejudiced there,'' he said. ''Before the 10th frame, I told [Banks] to get all the stuff, get the car and bring it up to the door. I doubled [two strikes] and got a 9, and the guy paid me. Then I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, I saw a whole bunch of guys coming after me. I ran, and we drove off.''

The dream lived. This year, the tour's qualifying tournament was in Hammond, Ind., and Oatman figured it was the last chance for his dream. So his mom gave him $1,800 for the entry fee. A top-10 finish, and he would be on tour. He needed a 211 in the last game.

He threw a 180 and finished 11th.

''I took my bowling balls to the car,'' he said. ''I thought, 'I couldn't feel any worse than this.' Then I felt this plop, plop, plop.''

He said that while patting his jacket. It was the sound of a seagull relieving itself on him.

But another bowler broke his wrist, opening a spot for Oatman. And the dream came true! He'll get $1,300 a week, guaranteed!

''You want another [beer]?'' he asked. I couldn't take his money.

''OK,'' he said. ''Hey, um, got any spare change?

''Kidding.''

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