Whether they're at the forefront of the craft beer movement or rolling up their sleeves at vintage Skee-Ball lanes, discover three socialclubs doing nightlife with a twist.

Brewskee-Ball

E.C. Cooper warns that the Tuesday night division of Brewskee-Ball is “by far the craziest.” This particular Tuesday doubles as “Class Picture Night,” so many people at the Scoot Inn are colorfully costumed: one wears bunny ears with cat whisker appliqués, another a rainbow wig and high heels; a third dons a fullbody egg costume and gives his name as “Humpty Dump-skee.” They all take turns at the Scoot Inn’s three vintage Skee-Ball machines, rolling ball after ball up the four-foot lane as their teams cheer them on and swig $2 cans of Austin Beerworks, the league’s sponsors.

The rambunctious eastside bar is home to the Austin chapter of Brewskee-Ball, a bar-based competitive Skee-Ball league founded in New York by “Skee-EOs” Eric Pavony and Evan Tobias, following a life-changing day trip to Coney Island in 2005. Cooper managed the bar that first hosted the league in Manhattan’s East Village. In 2009, he moved to Austin and started the local chapter, becoming the first missionary of Brewskee-Ball Inc.; there are now leagues in San Francisco, Charlotte and Wilmington. Between sixty and seventy teams compete in “skee-sons” of eight weeks, with the top 32 teams qualifying for the chance to win the annual grand prize of Brewskee-Ball: the Brewskee Mug. “It’s three crystal mugs filled with beer, to be chugged atop the lanes in victory,” Cooper says with delight. The top 32 individual rollers also compete for the B.R.O.T.Y. (Best Roller of the Year) crown.

If the popularity of the Austin league is any indication, skee-ball may follow roller derby and coed kickball as the next retro pastime to undergo a full-fledged revival among the twenty- and thirtysomething set. While the costumes and corny rollernames (e.g. Ted Kaczynskee, The Great Gatskee, Brewbacca) may signify an uber-enthusiasm bordering on irony, there’s no doubting the affectionate goodwill between the diverse crowd that comes together for Brewskee-Ball. “I joined because I didn’t have any friends after moving to town,” Amy “Doozles” Spencer says. “Now, Skee-Ball is my life.”

The dominant theory for success among Brewskee-Ballers is that having fun translates into better rolls. Thus, plentiful libations and geniality are crucial. “As I’d hoped, Austin is a perfect match for Brewskee- Ball,” Cooper says, as he looks forward to the “Skeeson 12” sign-up party on September 5. It’d be hard to disagree.

Austin Zealots

Anyone who’s set foot in a bar recently will have noticed an increase in the number of locally-made craft beers on tap. Indeed, craft brewing is on the rise: according to the Brewers Association, the industry grew 13% by volume in 2011, expanding on a 12% growth in 2010. Similar to the Slow Food, locavore and organic movements, the craft beer movement values inventiveness, taste and quality ingredients. Austin is one of nation’s epicenters for growth; this year alone has witnessed the debuts of microbreweries like Adelbert’s, South Austin Brewing Co. and Twisted X (in Cedar Park).

Homebrewing is increasingly popular, too. If you’re a craft beer enthusiast, chances are you’ve heard of the ZEALOTS (Zymurgic Enthusiasts of Austin Loosely Organized Through Suds). The ZEALOTS are a homebrew community that meets on the second Saturday of each month at the Gingerman to exchange brews and ideas. They also meet weekly for revolving happy hours at one of Austin’s growing number of brewpubs.“Craft brewing piggy-backed on the food movement,” says Dan Dewberry, a homebrewer of 16 years and a longtime member of the ZEALOTS. “Since the boom of that market, we’ve gotten a lot more people.” The monthly meet-ups at the Gingerman routinely draw over 50 enthusiasts, with nearly as great a variety of brews, from hoppy IPA’s and sour lambics to smooth pilsners and stouts with chocolate and blueberry notes. The individual brewers are fittingly heterogeneous. “We have several doctors who are regulars, alongside tons of blue-collar folks,” says Corey Martin, the group’s president (aka “Primary Fermenter”), though there are no dues or official expectations. “The one thing we all have in common is a passion for homebrewing.”

Though several newcomers show up every month, one would be hard-pressed to find a better bar than the Gingerman when the ZEALOTS are dispensing their brews. The club and its members have won many awards: Martin’s Munich Dunkel won Sam Adam’s nationwide Long Shot contest last year, and his brother, Kerry, perfected a Weizenbock recipe that was brewed as St. Arnold’s Divine Reserve #7 in 2009. Mark Schoppe, another regular, scored the most points at the National Homebrew Competition in Seattle this year, while the ZEALOTS as a whole finished fifth nationwide.

This month, the ZEALOTS will have their second Saturday meeting at Emma Long Park for their annual picnic and awards ceremony. If you like beer, you’re invited, they say. They’ve been going strong for almost twenty years, with no signs of a hangover. As the slogan on one of the club’s shirts reads: Beer is their obsession, and they’re late for therapy. “Basically, we like to drink beer,” Dewberry states. Then he corrects himself: “Good beer.”

PongRock

Friends Dustin Maxey and Richard Panter are seated at a table at Lavaca Street Bar & Grill, registering new entrants for the upcoming season of PongRock, the local ping pong league they started. They’re about to tell me all about it—but first, they insist on buying me a beer. At PongRock, a cold Lone Star or Shiner in one hand is as essential as a paddle in the other.

Beer has been a part of PongRock from its inception. One night in March 2010, Maxey, 29, and Panter, 28, were drowning their sorrows in Maxey’s garage, having been steamrolled in a charity tournament sponsored by the Austin Table Tennis Association. The players who’d beaten them were nationally-ranked, “hardcore table tennis guys. They killed us,” Panter says. It was nothing like the easygoing games they played in the garage. That’s when the idea for PongRock struck—why not found a league that recreates those beer-and-trash-talk-filled games with their friends? “I wanted to start a league where I’m good,” Maxey says. “In my garage, I’m good.” Maxey created a website and the two began entreating their friends to sign up. When 48 people—many of whom Maxey and Panter didn’t know—registered for the inaugural season, they realized they were onto something.

Organizing and operating a ping-pong league, which included promotion, finding a venue and buying tables, was a learning experience. “We were pretty cavalier about it at first,” Maxey says. “The first season, we scheduled round-robin tournaments, but whenever people didn’t show, it screwed everything up.” They adjusted to the current format, where competitors sign up for designated table and time slots on arrival and play best-of-three games to 11. The top finishers compete in a finals tournament at the end of each season, with the winner receiving a ping pong table. There are random skills competitions each week, too, including around-the-world, beer pong and trick shot contests. The league meets on Wednesday nights at Lavaca Street Bar & Grill, which serves up discounted beverages to players.

Seven seasons in, PongRock is now a smooth operation and a more popular one than its creators, who are also launching a Cornhole League at the Belmont this month, ever imagined. That doesn’t mean it’s very profitable, but Maxey thinks they’ve found a unique niche.