CRANSTON

For deaf bowlers, the thrill of a strike begins with the sensations picked up through the feet, as a ball of maybe 12 or 14 pounds bangs onto the lane and rolls down the varnished wood.

“We feel the vibrations in the floor,” explained Stacey Pavao, of Fall River, speaking in sign language through an interpreter. When the vibrations end in a satisfying visual splash of white pins, “That’s the thrill for us.”

Since 1960, the Rhode Island Mixed Deaf Bowling League, founded in part by league regular Edmond Michaud, of Woonsocket, has given deaf players a chance to socialize and compete among people fluent in their language.

“It’s an opportunity for deaf people to have an activity together,” said Jose Pavao, 32, the league’s president, and one of its better bowlers. “It’s an opportunity to socialize. When we’re out in the community we have to worry about how we communicate. Here we communicate using our native language, which is American Sign Language.”

Michaud turned 78 this month. He has bowled in the deaf league for 46 years. “I’m always encouraging people to participate so we can keep it growing and continuing,” he said in sign language. “I’m enjoying the young people who have joined it. I’m an old man but I’m happy. Being in this league keeps me active.”

The league of 32 players competes from September to May on Tuesdays at Cranston Lanes on Elmwood Avenue. Thirty of the league’s players are deaf, Pavao said.

Scott Smith, 41, of Coventry, is one of the two hearing people in the league. He grew up with deaf parents and used sign language at home. He was in another league at Cranston Lanes when the mixed deaf league persuaded him to switch. “I like this league a lot better,” he said. “They’re really competitive here, and sticklers for the rules.”

Smith said the differences between his old league and the mixed deaf league are subtle.

It’s hard to do sarcasm in sign, he said. His teammates often take what he says in sign language at face value, and he has to be sure they know when he is making a joke. Also, he finds the people in the league very direct and refreshingly blunt. “It’s all right out in the open,” he says. “And they talk a lot. They talk more than hearing people.”

Around him, people signed vigorously in small groups.

One other small difference is that the deaf bowlers wait until a teammate is looking before they begin to applaud a strike, or the pickup of a tough spare.

Michaud, competing last Tuesday evening against Smith, was left with a tough split. He dabbed his eyes as if he were crying. Smith laughed and signed to him, “I’m happy you got the split.”

All bowlers seem to employ the same body language to shoo a bad throw away from the gutter. Jose Pavao waved at his ball speeding down the lane, and ended up with a strike. He turned and signed, “I threw it too far to the outside, but I got lucky it came back for the strike.”

Pavao also celebrates strikes with a little fist pump — a universal sign among athletes in every sport.

Michaud’s next ball drifted to the corner and picked off just one pin. Incredulous, he whirled and mouthed, “One?”

Like in many bowling leagues, you don’t have to be a trained lip reader to understand the four-letter words being mouthed after somebody misses an easy spare.