Jack sat in the old wooden stadium chair, in the sun, enjoying the 2 matches being played below on the Bocci courts. The weather on this island of Malta, in February, was unpredictable. The Mediterranean sun could be blistering in the summer, but this day in February was ideal for Bocci. 65 degrees, and with the surf pounding on the rocks below, and a cold Diet Coke in hand – it was perfect.
This small village of Bugibba had one of the finest bocci
clubs on the island, and drew a lot of local Maltese for daily pick-up matches.
“Nicely played!” shouted Jack (not actually knowing what just happened). One of the old Maltese men looked up and
smiled with a gentle ‘thank you’. His
toss of the green block had knocked out the opponents red block, getting his
team closest to the lick. That play was worth
4 points on the round.
(Jack later learned that the "lick", or the 'Jack' ball is the small marble that becomes the target, then there are 3 'balls' the size of golf balls that are tossed toward the lick, and 8 cylinders 'blocks' that are tossed toward the lick - not round like other bocci sets, but more squared off blocks made of wood, to roll awkwardly and unpredictably).
Jack began nodding off as he sat there – absorbing the sun – he had closed his eyes. Then he heard a voice: “hey! Come play – we need 1 more!”. The Maltese man was speaking to Jack – pointing at him – and insisting that he come down to the court to play bocci with them. They needed one more player to complete the team. “I don’t really know how to play”, said Jack. “No problem, bocci is 80% luck and 20% skill – come on – it’ll be fun!”. Jill said 'GO - do it!'
So, for the next 2 hours Jack played bocci, in Malta, at the Bugibba Bocci Club – with a bunch of retired Maltese men, without a care in the world. They joked with him, his Americanisms, his form, his lack of bocci knowledge. They explained the differences between Malta bocci and bocci played in the rest of the world.
Jack looked at his watch. He and Jill needed to catch the bus back to St. Julians - so needed to leave the match early. He wanted to be one of these guys, spending
their afternoons together in Bugibba, not a care in the world, playing bocci. They all shook hands and said goodbyes.
Jack called back - “I’ll be back!” Sitting on the bus, he promised himself that
he would, be back, maybe for good.
