His face was locked in a concentrated stare as he focused all of his energies on the ten pins silently standing at the end of the lane, awaiting and certain and swift demise: almost like prisoners standing before a firing squad. Taking a deep breath, Frank’s 235 pound frame slowly eased into motion as the ball was gently and purposefully drawn back, cocked and ready for action. Then exhaling, his body fluidly began propelling itself forward; arms, legs and torso all working together to provide a maximum velocity. As Frank reached the foul line, he released the ball, his body straining to give it one last bit of energy.

Upon the release, a satisfied grin crept over Frank’s face. It had been a good night. With five straight strikes in a row, his luck was strong tonight and he felt confident that this bowl was a winner. The ball crashed into the pins, sending pins sprawling in every direction. All the pins had been decimated, racking up yet another strike. Frank performed his victory dance and raised his hands to high-five his onlooking friends. The fires of his enthusiasm were quickly doused with the apathetic glazes of his friends. One of friends put his arm around Frank and said soothingly, “Frank, we’re happy for you, we really are. Maybe tomorrow you can play without the bumper guards!”. Frank sighed…. baby steps; baby steps….