Yesterday while I was playing a bowls scratch match down at ‘Royal’ Manning ahead of the start of Pennants season this week, we found ourselves experiencing the ultimate in cursed scorelines.

13-13 after 13 ends.

Spooky scenes I tell you, and this coming after Perth had a full moon on Wednesday.

Just when that brush with the most cursed number of them all wasn’t enough, half an hour later, after giving up 2 shots, the score was….

17-17 after 17 ends.

Contrary to what Frank Sinatra claimed, when we were 17, it wasn’t a very good year, because we ended up losing 25-19.

These numerical coincidences also occurred after I found myself involved in a thrilling game on Thursday afternoon, when the scoreboard worked out to 5-5 after 5 ends:

Although we did fall one end short of a 21-21 draw after 21 ends, which really ruined the whole thing.

Although on the bright side, we actually won that game 22-21.