Everybody knows why professional athletes play the game.

They’re extremely good at it and in many cases get paid millions of dollars for doing it.

But why do we do it?

That question enters my mind many a time as I shank another tee shot on the golf course or incur another split on the bowling lanes.

Bowling, golf, softball ... No one is paying us to do this. To the contrary, money is coming out of my pocket for this aggravation and, at times, self-torture.

Why?

The answer finally hit me last weekend at the Pennsylvania State Men’s Bowling Tournament in Altoona.

We do it for the moment.

We never know when the moment’s gonna come, or if it’s gonna come.

We say we enjoy the game — and to a degree, we do — but one of the reasons we enjoy it is because we never know what might happen.

I’ve never bowled a 300-game, never even threatened to do so, and neither had Todd Nelson — until the Evans City resident rolled perfect games on consecutive nights.

My younger brother had never scored a hole-in-one on a golf course — until he did so while playing a round alone at Aubrey’s Dubbs Dred. (The people playing in front of him witnessed it, so he wasn’t lying.)

Those were moments.

My wife Darlene had not rolled a 200-game in a number of years. We joined the Magnetics League on Thursday nights at Family Bowlaway this year and she rolled a 207 a few weeks back.

Not only did many of the league members applaud her effort, but her name appeared in all capital letters on our standings sheet the following week.

We made it a point to save one of those copies. Why?

It was her moment.

The biggest moment as a player in my sports lifetime dates all the way back to Little League. I either struck out or got hit by a pitch on 90 percent of my plate appearances, so it seemed.

Bottom of the final inning, we’re down two runs, I’m at the plate with the bases loaded, two outs. The count was 0-2 as I took a called strike, then swung at a pitch that bounced in front of the plate.

My coach was already starting to pack our gear away when I closed my eyes and drilled a fly ball over the center fielder’s head for a bases-clearing triple and the game-winning hit.

I can still visualize being mobbed by teammates.

My moment.

At the state bowling tournament last weekend, I rolled a 214, 216 and 205 in singles. Only once before in my life have I rolled three 200-games in the same set.

Guys with 175 averages don’t do that very often.

The state tourney ends in June. Plenty of people will surpass that accomplishment in the meantime.

That doesn’t matter to me.

I had ended a 42-year drought between moments for myself.

It was worth the wait.