Whither Duane, who loved bowling?

There must be somebody out there who knows -- is Duane Dow still hosting "Local League Bowling" on Chicago public access cable?

I sure hope so. I haven't caught the show in a couple years, and cable access schedules are ... well, pretty deficient ... and the dang ole Googler is no help either.

If you don't know of Duane, and you live in the Shuhcawguh cable market ... well, you can hardly be blamed. The lack of attention his show has gotten is one of the crying shames of local-TV history.

Because "Local League Bowling" is -- or was -- simply the greatest television show of all time.

Words can't really rise to the challenge of describing it, but the gist is that Duane traveled each week to a different alley and provided sporadic commentary on the goings-on there, peppered with frequent brief interviews and locally produced commercials for south-side beef joints, auto body shops, and shady real estate speculators ("We buy dilapidated properties!") ... which might sound quaintly kitschy, from that tepid synopsis, but I'm telling you, it was THE BEST.

"Oh, now here's a fine bowler! What's your name, darling? Where are you from? What's your average? How are the pins falling tonight? And now a word from Connie's Pizza in Bridgeport."

Duane also hosted -- or, I hope, still hosts -- a local 16-inch softball show, which I also love, but it didn't have quite the charm. Softball is a pretty ... recreational ... game, as well, but it doesn't quite have that ... je ne know what ... aspect that bowling does that suits a show like "Local League Bowling" in a way that nothing else could. That sitting around and drinking beer and laughing at gutter balls aspect. And pretty much every softball diamond looks more or less the same. Neighborhood bowling alleys cannot be beat for sheer beauty and variety.

So ... if anyone knows if the show is still being produced, please pass it on.

And if, God forbid, it is no longer being produced, I'd still like to know, so I can cremate it and, in accordance with what we think its dying wishes might well have been, commit its final mortal remains to the bosom of Lake Michigan, which it loved so well. Good night, sweet prince.

(Photo by Jim Newberry for the Chicago Reader and stolen off the Internet because that's what the Internet is for. If Mr. Newberry objects to my using it, I'll delete it, but it's a great picture, so I hope he doesn't.)