Strikes and Side Eyes

by Brian Casey Castillo

There are nights that remind you exactly why you love being a dad.

This was one of them.

It was just me and Bella at the bowling alley—laughing, joking, bonding in that beautiful, chaotic rhythm we always find when it’s just us. No coaching. No pressure. Just connection.

Bella was in her flow. Dancing between frames. Hitting strikes like it was nothing. Side-eyeing me like I was some sitcom dad dropped into the wrong generation.

I tried talking oil patterns. She just hit the pocket.

I got lucky with a Brooklyn strike. She called it “bad-good.” I nodded like it was a compliment.

The funniest part? Probably Shaheem—the guy next to us watching her bowl. At first, he had no idea what he was witnessing. Bella just kept striking. Calm. Collected.

He leaned over and said,

“She good?”

I said,

“Yeah. There’s a reason she’s a two-time member of Junior Team USA. Started bowling pro tournaments at 13.”

Then I added,

“I taught her everything she knows.”

From across the lane, Bella jumped in—

“No you didn’t.”

Shut me down with a smile.

So I waited until she walked off and leaned back over:

“She got invited to a celebrity event with Fox Sports. It came down to her, Nelly the rapper, and Terrell Owens. And Bella won.”

He blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“Yup,” I said. “The lights were on. T.O. needed a strike to beat her. He got eight. Bella had ten. She won it.”

Then I showed him her Team USA backpack.

I don’t usually brag. She doesn’t like it.

But tonight—I was just a proud dad.

We missed high fives. Tried Kendama tricks in the dark. She danced. I tried to win just one thing and asked her to let me have it. She beat me at bowling. But I felt like I won everything.

Because I got to be Dad again.

And in that uncontrollable flow—between the strikes and the side-eyes—I saw it:

The bond that never breaks.

Not through distance. Not through darkness.

Just love.