Nina and Alvin: The Dynasty

Let me introduce you to Nina and Alvin. Nina, who is 74, and Alvin, who is 84, have been married for 54 years. I have known them for 53 of them. I am their daughter.

Nina and Alvin are not their real names, but when I told them I was going to write a few stories about them, they requested aliases.

“Please call us Nina and Alvin.”

Nina and Alvin it is.

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Over the years, there have been many dynasties: the Yankees, the Celtics, the Bulls.

But here we are in 2020, living through a pandemic. Football has been cancelled and baseball is but a smattering of games, cheered on by depressed cardboard cutouts. 

Where are our athletic heroes? Our memorable moments? Will we ever witness the next great dynasty?

Fear not, my sad little spectators, there is a sports dynasty brewing in our midst.

Although this team consists of only two players, they are a force to be reckoned with.

This dynamic duo is none other than…

Nina and Alvin.

When my husband, Steve, and I showed up for that first game, we had no idea of their athletic prowess.

The wooden bocce balls were placed in the divots and Nina and Alvin stood at attention, like two soldiers ready for battle.

Alvin’s “GAME ON” t-shirt screamed psychological warfare.

Nina’s nautical blouse and matching visor were diabolical.

But seriously, they have a collective age of 158 so I was pretty sure we could take them.

They beat us 10 – 1.

“Better luck next time, kiddos,” Alvin said after the game. This was followed by a wave, and a simultaneous jump in the air and clicking of the heels.

Impressive.

You know what else is impressive? 

The fact that Nina and Alvin have defeated us eight straight weeks.

Last week, we decided we were not going to let them dominate us, nor let Alvin’s “No Soup For You” t-shirt intimidate us.

Twenty minutes in, we were down 9-5 but we had just rolled four perfectly placed shots. 

I could taste victory.

But hold on, folks…

Alvin just called a time out to switch from daytime to nighttime bifocals. (Just like in the pros.)

“Much better,” he said, adjusting his glasses, and showboating his clear vision.

He handed Nina their last ball and the two huddled. “You’re going to want to go left of the blocker and split the other two,” he instructed.

(Huddling is not normally part of bocce ball, but I believe these two are using it as a scare tactic.)

I’m not even scared.

Nina and Alvin chest-bumped.

Maybe a little.

Nina stepped onto the sand, eyed her target, and with a flick of her wrist, released her ball.

“Left, left, go left,” she yelled.

Her ball veered left, whizzing past the blocker.

“Oh, Nina, too hard! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Sometimes Nina gets mad at Nina.

But you can’t be a Bocce Ball great, without a little fire. Am I right?

Nina’s ball knocked our two balls out of the way.

“Slow, slow, slow… there you go,” Nina said.

The ball slowed as Nina had commanded and came to rest, inches from the white ball.

Is Nina a Bocce Ball Wizard?

“Better luck next time, kiddos!” Alvin said. 

Then a wave, a leap, a clicking of the heels, and they were off.

On the upside, we had scored a season high five points so we treated ourselves to a celebratory dinner.

As an act of defiance, I ordered soup.

The next day I called an emergency Bocce Ball meeting.

“I think the problem is you need to play better,” I told Steve.

“Also, you need to play better,” Steve countered.

Both solid points.

Steve sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t worry about the score and just enjoy playing with them.”

“Or… find somebody else that can beat them,” I said.

 I called out to our kids. “Who wants to take down Grandma and Grandpa?”

At first, it was rolling eyes, and “I don’t want to beat old people.”

Come on, where’s your competitive spirit?

Finally, the kids agreed.

“How did it go?” I asked my daughter, Quincey, when they returned from the game.

“Not well,” she said. “Also, Grandpa can jump really high.” 

My son-in-law, Colby, asked, “How are they so unbeatable?” 

It’s one of life’s great mysteries.

But if you want to see for yourself, check out the Moorpark Bocce Ball courts any Tuesday evening.

There you’ll find Nina and Alvin, clad in intimidating apparel, flaunting their clear vision, coaxing their bocce balls to victory, celebrating with a victory leap and parting with the signature phrase, “Better luck next time, kiddos!”

Just like any great dynasty.