Lawn bowls is in decline. Can it make a comeback?

IF ASKED TO name the archetypal English sport, many people would probably plump for cricket. But there is another game—both older and, for much of its history, more popular—which fits the description better. In the 14th century lawn bowling, a sport in which players roll large balls towards a smaller one (the “jack”), was so popular that it kept soldiers from their archery practice. Henry VIII was one of several monarchs to ban it, at least for the lower classes (a keen bowler, he continued to play).

British players still dominate in lawn bowls at the Commonwealth games (where it has been a “core sport” since the event was launched in 1930). Lush and meticulously tended bowling greens continue to dot Britain; many clubs serve as community hubs. But the game now has a different sort of popularity problem. As Britons have found more ways to fill their leisure time, club memberships have fallen. Closures have followed.

No one knows precisely how many bowling greens Britain has left—there may be around 7,000—but Hugh Hornby, a sports historian, painted a melancholy picture in “Bowled Over”, a book published in 2015. Between 1959 and 2015 the number of bowling clubs in Middlesex, a historic county swallowed up by London, fell from 242 to 94. In nearby Surrey the number dropped from 311 to 137. If losses continued at that rate, Hornby wrote, bowls would disappear from Britain by 2050.

This decline is worth noting if only because of the role the game has played in Britain’s social and cultural history. A recognisable version of the modern game was established by 1500. The first rules were published in 1670, nearly a century before those for cricket and golf were codified. Shakespeare alluded to bowling a lot; so did Samuel Pepys. In 1618 Nicholas Breton, a poet, wrote that a gentleman should “speake well, ride well, shoote well and bowle well”. That view was reflected in the design of many country-house gardens, the strikingly level lawns of which were once bowling greens.

Bowls England, the national governing body, does not want bowls to become history. In 2021 it launched a five-year plan, “Fit for the Future”, to attract new players. Its advertising campaigns point out that the game is easy to learn (although it is hard to master) and doesn’t require any athleticism. That arguably makes it a little dull to all but the very old or infirm. Seeking to attract younger players, in 2022 Bowls England launched a newer, faster version of the game dubbed, with a hint of desperation, Bowls Bash.

Yet the gentle exercise the game provides, coupled with the presence of clubs in villages, towns and cities, ought to make bowls the perfect game for an ageing (and increasingly unhealthy) population. Some clubs report that many of their new members join their ranks after golf becomes a bit too much.

Residents of Brixton, a diverse neighbourhood in south London, recall how the bowling club in the local park held impromptu games, to which strangers were welcomed, on summer evenings. Some games took place in a haze of marijuana smoke—Bowls Hash, perhaps. But park greens, which are maintained by local authorities, are particularly vulnerable to closure. A service that attracts relatively few users (Bowls England reckons that 20% of clubs have fewer than 20 members) yet requires careful maintenance (the kinds of large lawnmowers used on football pitches don’t cut it) is an obvious target for council bean-counters.

A few years ago the local authority stopped maintaining the green in Brixton for bowls. Today, its grass gone, the green is brown. It is used, variously, as a practice ground for volleyball and a football pitch by children. In a crowded city, that feels a bit like progress. But for one of the country’s historic sporting pastimes, it tells a bleaker story. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.