By now, everyone who isn't living under a rock has heard what happened to Rihanna.

TMZ recently acquired a photo of a beaten Rihanna, and obviously, it was not pretty.

Frankly, like everybody else, I don't know what went down between the both of them which led to the physical escalation. Whatever the case is, I do not see ANY reason why you would beat up your girlfriend/love one. Did she run over your dog? Did she slap your momma?

Chris Brown is nothing more than a f*cken piece of rat turd. People, especially your fans, now know how ugly and phony of a person you truly are. Personally, I don't see this as anything more than you displaying your disappointment about two things: your sexuality and your inferior complex. But rest assure, those two things will be put to the test shortly.

Buttah up that ass Chris, you have new friends awaiting your arrival at the pokey, a'hole!

Before I start my weekly blog about the CBC, I give you the lyrics to Survivor's "Burning Heart." Let it soak into your minds BEFORE you read what transpired last night at the CBC...

Burning Heart

Two worlds collide
Rival nations
It's a primitive clash
Venting years of frustrations
Bravely we hope
Against all hope
There is so much at stake
Seems our freedom's up
Against the ropes
Does the crowd understand?
Is it East versus West
Or man against man
Can any nation stand alone

CHORUS
In the Burning Heart
Just about to burst
There's a quest for answers
An unquenchable thirst
In the darkest night
Rising like a spire
In the burning heart
The unmistakable fire
In the burning heart

In the warrior's code
There's no surrender
Though his body says stop
His spirit cries - never!
Deep in our soul
A quiet ember
Know it's you against you
It's the paradox
That drives us on
It's a battle of wills
In the heat of attack
It's the passion that kills
The victory is yours alone

CHORUS
REPEAT CHORUS TWICE

In the burning heart

And now... on to last night's debacle at the CBC...

2 games out of first place, and on a 10 game winning streak, there was little that stood in Team SIKNESS' way... or so we thought.

All week, not a single word was sent my way on YM. It was radio silent... as it should have been since last week's blog about unnecessary chatter. Perhaps people have learned their lesson? Perhaps not.

The only thing that was discussed was between Humphrey and myself. He claims to not be at his best because the She-Fiend is not bowling with him. Then he claims that he wants the limelight. Finally, he admits that he needs the Puba to get back to the promised land. Now, was it that hard to say that?

But enough about Humphrey... He wants to be part of the f'en show or at least showcased, but he can't... cause I is the whole f'en show.

This week, we faced Daniel Webster, a team of young boys with a 7-13 record:

Robert (Left Hand) - 157 avg
Marc - 188 avg
Edmar - 194 avg

vs

Team Sikness

Puba - 174 avg (last month bowling a 210 avg)
Super - 147 avg
Judgie - 182 avg

Game 1 (Two worlds collide / rival nations)

Daniel Webster was struggling out of the gates as were we. My only two opens for the night happened in this first game, but still the Puba led all scores with a 192. The Judgie followed suit with a shaky 190. But the Super made it interesting with a 109.

Francis showed up on his bye week from pool to watch on. He was somewhat surprised to see how disappointed I was despite us winning the game, 523 - 501.

Little did he know that I was concerned about the impending doom that we were setting ourselves up for. We had an opportunity to build a large lead, but a major obstacle made us settle for a tight victory.

Super was not hitting his spares for the 2nd straight game dating back to last week. With 7 opens in the first game, Judgie and I were barking about which spare ball the Super should use as we noticed him switching between 3-4 different balls.

J: Why did you grab a house ball if you're not going to use it?
T: Why are you not using my spare ball since that is the only ball you've had success with?
S:
F:

Right off the bat, I knew the Super was out there to make a point. He wanted to be the one to dictate the rules and how he was going to bowl.

The Judgie and the Puba faced an extra opponent this week. Not only were they going up against a team of young bucks, they were dealing with a stubborn and rogue teammate that thought he knew better... better than two bowlers who average 30-40 points more.

Game 2 (Bravely we hope / Against all hope)

The Super's onslaught on us continued as he manufactures another sh*tty game (112). Judgie's game was shaky from the get-go. And I was starting to notice him crumble under the pressure and the distraction of the Super's game. At the end, he only provides 166 pins of support.

Noticing the ANGER was not giving me the violent flip I like to see each time out, I switched to the ACID. And right away, the benefits were reaped as I thundered for a 217 game.

Yet, it was not enough as I could not make up for both the Super and the Judge's shortfalls. We lose, 563 - 527.

Up until the last two frames, we had a chance. But as the pressure mounted so did my patience for what was transpiring.

T (to Francis): Over 15 f'en weeks. And his game has turned to sh*t!
F: Triple digits! (as the Super flirted for the third straight game of not hitting triple digits).
T (to Judge): I don't understand why he doesn't use my spare ball. Instead, he is using all these different balls that generate the same result!
J: I don't understand why he even grabbed the house ball and not even practice with it, and not even use it now.
T (to Super): Jesus Christ, use my f'en goddamn ball!
S:

Game 3 (In the heat of attack / It's the passion that kills)

I couldn't take it anymore. Open after open, I watched as the Super single-handedly threw our run into the sh*tter.

Still, the Puba did all he could do to march on. As the Puba connected on his 4 straight strike in the 7th frame, he looks up at the lone spectator that could barely stand to watch what was unfolding:

T: I don't believe this sh*t!
F:
T: I can't do it alone Francis...
F: But you are, you have to!
T (looks up at the screen, Marc and Edmar connect on turkeys): Can't take down two...

And just like that, the Puba shut down the jets. The game was getting out of hand and it would only hurt matters if we lose and the Puba continued to let his average climb higher.

The Super, who has been quiet all night, finally makes a defiant rebuttal:

T: Why are you not using my spare ball (for the f'en 20th time!)?
S: It doesn't fit!
T: Sh*t! (thinking to himself: This fool was literally palming the ball anyways and it is not like it fit before!) Then why are you using a ball that you know you've never had success with?
S:
T (to Judge): This guy claims my spare ball doesn't fit. Fine! But why grab a ball you know you can't pick up spares with. You might as well use the f'en house ball! Any other ball for that matter!
J: I don't know T, I just don't understand.

Judgie might not understand, but I did.

You see, the Super was exercising his judgment. He was out to make a point that he could do it his own way. Last night was a battle of wills.

I don't have a problem with that. This ain't the f'en army. While I may sound like a drill sergeant, I don't hold anything against anyone for trying to do it their way.

What I do have a problem with, is when someone makes it a point to do things differently, without proper assessment and good reasoning.

I know the Super and his ways. He likes to talk. He likes to play devil's advocate. He also likes the limelight. And from time to time, he likes to challenge authority by doing things "his way."

My other issue with last night stemmed from the fact that I ranted all night about why the Super was not using my spare ball (the only ball he has had some history of success with), but the guy does not give me a response until the third game. To magnify matters, he chooses his own method (his ball) that has proven time and time again, to fail him. And worst of all, he doesn't even ask for advice from two bowlers that may know a thing or two about bowling. Instead, he keeps digging a deeper grave, frame after frame, open after open.

Again, I don't want nor did I intend to be the authoritative figure on this team or even the Cannons per se. But like the Cannons, my emotions and words dictate the underlying feeling of Team Sikness. In a way, if T's unhappy, the whole f'en team is unhappy. I understand that, and the last few years, I've tried to curb my frustrations and be more positive. But for Team Sikness, there's only two other voices, Super or Judge. I'll leave it to you to pick who you want to follow. And while the Cannons pursue a different voice or message, as they embark on their own path towards success, I know for a fact that I would never be able to be my best because I don't share the level of respect towards the individuals that lead that team. Why listen to someone who doesn't or hasn't:

a. achieve success (I got the accolades to prove it!)
b. display an ability to encompass and think about the whole, not just one person or one element of the game (I don't mind batting last, if there are 9 better batters in front of me.)
c. want it more than anyone else (The passion that kills - Prove to me you have more desire and devotion than me, then I'll follow you to the ends of the earth!)
d. show willingness to dedicate themselves and embrace the journey to improving not only themselves but their teammates (People talk about sacrifices they make. Whether it be monetary, time, sweat, etc., who has been willing to go all out for the sake of their team?)

People along the way have had issues with how I handle their feelings. They want to be happy. And they want to win. So do I, but it's different.

When these same individuals don't win, they like to cast blame and wonder about the "what if's." Hmmm... now you tell me if casting blame and pondering "what if's or should of been's" sound happy to you?

When these same individuals reassess and realize that I've been right all along, they downplay their defeat/loss and claim that they're just out here to have "fun." (also meaning, "I just didn't want it that much.) So why even do it? Save your f'en excuses.

To these same individuals, I say, have fun and be the loser that you are. Spare me the talk about wanting to win, or more importantly, wanting to be better, cause plainly, you don't. And even if you did, you still don't want it as much as I do!

For the Super, perhaps he's learned a lesson. But knowing him, he's too stubborn to admit it. He wants this to be about "team." Now you tell me what it is about "team" that he displayed last night.

For his and our sake, and my sanity, I sincerely hope he comes with a new state of mind, a new determination and an openness to learn and improve his game. Sometimes, a little success breeds vanity. That is a topic in itself, as it involves a different cast of characters and an entirely different circumstance to be discussed in my next blog entry, "Climbing on a Lion's Back..."

Moments of brilliance and splendor are far and few for many because oftentimes, they don't have that many obstacles. They don't have that many hurdles.

Whether it is that elusive job you earn after going to hundreds of interviews or the unbelievable performance in a sport you trained/worked so hard for finally pays off especially when defeat was certain.

For some, there are many moments of greatness. Some more "greater" than others, but many opportunities that allow one to be the top dog, the f'en cheeze, the whole kit and kaboodle. When you sit back and take in those moments, you can't help but feel a sense of exhilaration and pride knowing that, "Yes, I was there when that happen," and "I f'en got the job done!"

For Da Cheeze, Humphrey, and myself, we still bring up our 1994 Adult/Junior league championship story every now and then.

For the Bush Baby and myself, our wedding and wandering Europe on our own for our honeymoon still comes up on occasion.

On a personal level, getting hired each time for a job brightens even the dreariest day.

But those are monumental accomplishments... There are also the daily and weekly hurdles that make life fun and worthwhile. And last night at the CBC, was another one...

CBC - Wk 5 of the 2nd Half

The week began with Super's ramblings about how great his team is... after we swept a high powered Hi Jinx team. Despite my pleas to him to STFU, he kept provoking or as the Super claims, "having fun" with Humphrey.

T: Why must you provoke him?
S: What?! I can't have fun?! You have your blog?! That's your way of having fun!
T: Yes, but the difference is I can back it up. You know it. Humphrey knows it. You, on the other hand, haven't done sh*t! We, at this moment, at 11-5, haven't done sh*t! All we've done is sweep one team!
S: Well, I'm just having some fun!
T: Fun is when you win it all instead of rubbing it in on them when they are behind us. They didn't do it to us, so we shouldn't do it to them.
S: Sure, Humphrey has done it to me.
T: Well, I'm telling you not to do it to him. Cause A. We haven't accomplish anything, and B. You can't handle him.
S: What are you talking about I can't handle him?
T: You can't! You see, we have a chance to bowl for something. When that time comes, your actions will speak louder than your words. Humphrey is going to be looking down from the stands. And since you choose to antagonize him, he will make it a point to antagonize you. And I KNOW, you will not be able to handle him!

But the week's news does not end there...

I semi-coerce Da Cheeze to get a new ball and I try to fire up a beaten down Humphrey as it pains even me to watch their team struggle.

This week, we faced Team Phoenix, led by Dave, Jesse, and Steve (the President of the CBC).

As much as I love Steve, I made my usual bold statement to the YM world that "El Presidente will be destroyed (by my hands)."

The Bush Baby did not like the comment, but she knew as much as I respected Steve, I would not let him stand in my way.

Game 1 (Super's thrill-ride shakens the Puba)

Super opens his first two frames. The Puba starts the night with ANGER and a thunderous strike, only to get momentarily rattled with 3 opens from 2 splits. Panic ensues.

S: Use the ACID!
J: Use the Black ball (Widow)!

The Puba notices that ANGER is not travelling as long as he likes and picks up the ACID. From that moment on, the Puba never opens again as he finishes with a 179.

The Judgie follows the Puba's lead with a 179 as well. The Super strings together some strikes for a solid comeback and a 170.

Dave and Steve shoot their average, but Jesse falls considerably short of his 212 avg as we take the 1st game by 50+ pins.

Game 2 (Puba gets stronger as the night goes on...)

The Puba senses it is time to go back to the ANGER. He has figured out his line and his body has warmed up, allowing him to throw the ball harder and faster. Needless to say, anything short of a 200 is disappointing. And the Puba hardly disappoints.

Super is ridin' high as he connects on a turkey during the second game!

T: You know what that is?
S: What?
T: A two dollar shot!
S: (laughs) Yep!
T: Let's go ballistic and put an end to this!

Super finishes with a 190. Judgie provides a decent 188. And the Puba devastates everyone with a 204.

We win by 110 pins. SIKNESS!

Game 3 (Puba gets it right on all fronts!)

I knew Jesse was going to unload on us on one of the games. A 212 bowler always has at least one game in his sleeve... and this one was it as he connected for a 214.

Things could not get any worse as the Super opens his first two frames for the third consecutive game. Mid-way during the game, Judgie and I discuss our options:

T: Damn it! Looks like it is you and me Judgie! We have to carry this dead horse!
J: We need to put a bullet in this dead horse!
T & J: (laugh... Dave overhears our conversation and laughs as well.)

Mid-game, Humphrey comes over and peers at our performance. I knew at that moment the Super, who had already been struggling, would be even further distracted.

S: He handed me his losings already.
T: I don't give a sh*t! We're about to lose! Stay focus!

Wasted words. After an awesome performance the first two games, the Super's gravy train is derailed as he limps to the finish line with a 115.

But these are the moments that the Puba is needed. These are moments when the Puba has to rise and lead his team to victory.

Strike after strike after strike, the Puba snarled as he made his way back to congratulatory hi-fives from his teammates. Even before the Puba connected on his first turkey of the third game, the Judge had already marked it down on the score sheet.

J: Hey T, I already marked down a strike even before you bowled it. I just sensed it!

By the tenth frame, our teams were neck and neck. We had a 10 point lead going in. Team Phoenix was excited as they had a chance to steal one from us.

But Puba was not going to let that happen. Not on his watch. As the Puba took some warm-up hops in front of the President, both teams, and our opponents from last week, Hi Jinx, looked on to see if our current 7-0 run was going to be snapped. This was our moment of truth!

First throw - STRIKE! The Puba unleashed a nasty snarl.
Second throw - STRIKE! The Puba replaces his snarl with a big sigh of relief.
Third throw - 8. The Puba had secured victory for this team... OR SO HE THOUGHT...

With a 21 pin lead with only two bowlers to go, you could confidently say that victory was guaranteed.

Sure enough, Super squanders our lead single-handedly. The Puba and Judge scream in French about how it shouldn't have had to come down to this.

By the time the Judge had his opportunity, we were only up by 4. Steve connected for a spare, making us down by 6. That meant that the Judge had to convert, which is not a tall order although the Judge is not often keen to perform well in pressure situations.

As the Judge unloads a thunderous first ball, everyone's eyes are glued to the outcome that could make or break Team Sikness' perfect night.

BAM! A 9 with a standing 4 pin.

T: No problem! Make this sh*t Judge! (as I tried to encourage the Judgie to seize his moment.)

And BOK! Just like that the Judgie delivers the death blow, dead on. He follows with a strike and we win by 6 pins, 530-524.

4-0. Record is now 15-5.

Needless to say, it wasn't all smiles when the game was over.

Super just shaked his head at his lame performance in the last game.

T: Terrible. You bowled two great games, and then you give me this sh*t.
S: (continues shaking)
J: It shouldn't have even come down to this!
S: Yeah, I know...

At that moment, I only hoped that the Super realized that he was not ready for what I knew was in store for him. Unlike the Judge, who has battled with me on the softball field and have provided some clutch performances, the Super had only teamed with me once prior (at our Reno tournament).

The expectations at that time were not high. But when we are where we are now, he needs to learn that he can't simply talk a big game and then bowl LIKE a "big boy" (as he does his first two games), only to flame out.

But that he needs to bring it each week for ALL the games.

Then, and only then, can he speak with authority and earn the esteem of others. My goal, as his teammate, is to get him there...

Perhaps all this cardio and core work has made it possible for me to excel lately in my physical activities. It hasn't felt so easy in a long time.

Or perhaps I'm just hitting my prime?

All I know is, I've feeling stronger than ever.

On Sunday, I did some batting practice. Grabbed the bat for the first time in over 5 months. Initially, I was a little nervous. But very quickly, the nerves subsided as I connected on some towering drives.

We practiced at McCoppin Park. Chairman claims the edge of the field where the incline begins is 300 ft. I was able to send a handful of heavy, wet, soggy balls into the sidewalk (300+ ft.?).

Already, I am looking forward to the next softball practice.

Tonight at bowling, I'm leading Team Sikness's 11-5, 6th place record against Phoenix.

With my new equipment (the Anger and the Acid), I've been able to throw shot after shot without holding back. Everything from the release (delivery) to the back-end flip is violent. I've haven't felt this way since I unveiled the new Black Widow a year and half ago.

Reflecting on this, I know this time may be short, when the body gets to the optimum state for full performance. For a football player, it might be around the age of 25-28. For a baseball and basketball player, 25-31. After that, the wheels start to come off and you're fighting another battle against a different foe: Father Time.

Whatever the case, no more chains (excuses) to shackle down the beast. There are moments to be enshrined in memory and goals to be conquered! And I CAN'T HOLD BACK!

I've been away for a little while. Getting my head on straight to figure out my priorities, what it is I'd like to do, and how I'd like to spend my time.

Along the way, people, especially my friends, have noticed that I've been less accessible, and at times, distracted and even angry. And the fact of the matter is, I have been. As I incorporate and explore new interests and passions (lately, burying myself in the gym and training to eventually run a half-marathon), I've also been dealing with personal (family) issues that hit me hard.

Not being one to brag, but I tend to be able to handle most that life throws at me. But there are things in life we can't control... Health being one of them.

Perhaps dealing with a family member with failing health has awaken/shaken me. There are more important things to life than getting worked up at a bowling alley or on the softball field.

Just the other day, I spent half an hour meditating. No one was home, just me and the trusty old TV, yet it wasn't on. I closed my eyes and my mind started zooming a million miles an hour. Random thoughts raced though, some more powerful than others. As I sat there urging my mind to slow down, I started getting numb. Not my body per se, but the raw emotions. The anger was no longer there.

Needless to say, there still is a ways to go.

Just today, I heard my former softball team has accrued enough players to play in the Spring league. The information was not shared to me, despite me initiating contact with the individuals that are running the team that I was available to play part-time on the weekend or on Thursday.

Initially, I shared my feelings with Francis, telling him that I felt a little shafted that I was not included in the team's discussions. He threw it back saying that I wanted my time away.

That's fine. I can accept that he was shafted himself with my distant actions as of late. But I was somewhat disappointed to not have any email or phone call telling me that, "Hey T, I know you can't commit full-time, so would you mind if the team moved on without you?"

Simple as that. Especially if I made it a point year after year, for the last 13 years to furnish a team, and at times, eating the costs of not having enough paid players. And that my offer to play part-time didn't warrant even a courtesy response in the form of a rejection.

But then the disappointment left almost as quickly. While I find it perplexing that I don't feel as strongly as I do, especially the way I have been emotionally driven for a large part of my life, I did find it anti-climatic.

These people have moved on. In a way, I have as well.

They made a decision to not stick around, to not inquire, and to not care about me nor what I have going on around me. Sure, it can be simplified by saying, no, we just don't want you on the team. And while that may be true, their actions state pretty well that they don't want me around the team.

And while I would of loved to keep following the Cannons for as long as they play, as they still hold a special place in my heart, I know it is different now. The dynamics have changed.

Through the years, I've lost players for various reasons. Players that stopped playing despite my constant urging. But through it all, I've made it a point to convey compassion and sympathy to those that deserve it, whether it be a player who prioritized his religion or a player who prioritized his family over softball. The message has always been there that no matter how long these players stayed away from the game, they were always welcomed back.

While I don't see the team wanting me to return in the near future, nor do I see myself wanting to return, I do hope this young batch of players see more to this team than just a Saturday hitting the ball or of Tommy once yelling out of his lungs at a bad play.

But of the dedication and commitment to improve and play beyond their wildest abilities.

As I so often say, "The yelling and the practices are not for my sake. It doesn't make me feel better. I'm not the one who benefits from it."

It's been a fun ride, and no hard feelings...

Man oh man oh MAN!

As the famous saying goes, "Be careful what you wish for cause it might just happen...!"

Or the other one that goes, "If you play with fire, your ass is gonna get burnt!"

Well, you can apply any of these sayings to what occurred last night at the CBC cause:

A. There were some who did, and in all fairness, did not wish to see the Puba back to his old self.
B. Someone was on fire and there were some asses that were cindered!

In Week 20, we faced Hi Jinx, comprised of Janny (151 avg), Stanley (187 avg), and Yi (198 avg).

Team Sikness, comprised of Super (146 avg), Judgie (183 avg), and Puba (169 avg), were riding high after learning they were tied for 7th place with an 8-4 record. We had a 34 pin/game handicap.

Before the league started, I handed $40 to Steve for getting me my newest acquisition, the Raw Hammer ANGER. Unlike its sister ball (also in my possession), the red Raw Hammer ACID, the ANGER is blue.

One of the first things I noticed when he gave me the ball was that it was not drilled as aggressively as the ACID, and it concerned me. But nonetheless, I was happy to get a free ball (only had to pay for drilling) and anything was better than my beat-up, left for dead Hammer BLACK WIDOW.

Game 1 (ACID Attack!)

Right off the bat, we were in for a dog fight. Little Janny was hitting strikes and spares for a 172. Stanley unloaded a 193 and Yi delivered a crushing 234.

The Super begged to not be scolded like an "elder" (see previous blog post) even before he laid a 134 piece of crap. Judgie was uncharacteristically out of sync as he only mustered a 140.

Needless to say, I knew the moment was getting to the both of them. They were uncomfortable with the minor taste of success that we've attained the last two weeks. It was time to nip it in the bud and provide them reassurance that the Puba was not going to leave their side anymore, especially now... in their darkest hour. And while they courageously and valiantly tried to carry the Puba all season long, it was time the Puba carried them, singlehandedly if it must be!

So despite getting destroyed by 89 pins, 599 - 510, the Puba's words resonated through his actions, a 202 game:

T: Enough of this sh*t! Don't settle and be happy just because we're 8-4! Judge, I got nuthin' to say. You know what you need to do! Figure it out!
J:
T: Super, this is a pivotal week. One of those weeks where I'm going to need you to elevate your game like you have been doing. Let's destroy's these ass-clowns!
S:

Game 2 (ANGER, much ANGER...)

Game 2 started off the same as Game 1 for me, a first frame open. What's worst was I followed it with a second frame split for another open.

T: Judge, what do you think? It's time to go with the ANGER?
J: I don't know, you bowled a 212 with the red ball (ACID).
T: Yeah, I know, but I'm having a hard time controlling it. Like when I gutterred after two strikes in the first game.
J: Well, you have two opens right now, so you can't lose giving it a try.
T: You're right.

Janny returned to earth with a 148. Stanley was caught off guard with what would turn out to be one of Puba's greater comebacks, as he only manufactured a 168. Yi was unfazed as he thundered for a 225.

The Super continued to struggle as he opens his first 4 frames and is relegated to a pitiful 131. I continue to bark in his face as I know his performance will be integral come the third game. The Judgie gets semi-on track with a 179. The Puba follows his two opens with a turkey, followed by a spare, then a 5 bagger for a 234 game. We win 578 - 541! Yet, we were still down by 53 pins.

At the end of the game, Yi looks at the score sheet and notices my 169 avg:

Y: Tommy, you should not be a 169 avg, you should be a 269.
T: Hahaha... no, I've been doing terrible for much of the first half. Too cheap to buy a ball. Steve actually gave me two, one today.
Y: What!? And you're using it for the first time today?!
T: Yeah, actually, the first time I used it is this last game.
Y:

Game 3 (ANGER leads to HATRED, HATRED leads to SUFFERING...)

T: Judge, I'm not eyeing this game. I'm eyeing the overall. We're down by 53.
J: Me too.
T: Good.

The Puba unloads 5 straight strikes to start off the third game. Unfortunately, so does Stanley.

Super finally realizes that his Acute Bronchitis Syndrome does not figure into play or will serve as an excuse for his poor performance. After two quiet games, the Super unloads a steady dose of whoopass with a 181.

Judgie, on the other hand, remains mediocre with a 171. But tonight, the Judgie was given a free pass as the Puba followed his 5 bagger with two spares and another 5 bagger for a 267.

Stanley's 245 and Yi's 193 were no match as we slaughtered them, 653 - 565 for a 3 wins to 1 loss victory.

Eyes were watching from all angles as they were witnessing the Puba reemerge from his slumber. From D Hall, D S Leung, Mimi, Fat Jerry, Steve, Greg, Ryan, the Hair Monster and his girlfriend, Catherine, the President (Steve), the Loudmouth (Qui), and of course, the Secretary (Check), they all watched on as the Puba left everyone in awe with a 703 series. Even the Bush Baby and Da Cheeze had a glimpse of the Puba's f'en show!

Check offers to print my scores out, Fat Jerry gives me several high-fives and pats on the shoulder along with praises of "Good bowling!"

At the end of the game, and with everyone congratulating the Puba, I collected my teammates in the corner and told them:

T: Remember, there are a lot of people who want us to fail. We even know some of them. F*ck 'em all! From this moment on..., we show all these punk b*tches that we are to be reckoned with!
S & J:

(for they knew the Puba has returned, angrier than ever.)