Now you're getting it. [With an approving smile, he took a drink of his water and set the bottle aside, putting his hand over the air vent near Haro so that it could dry the moisture off his fingers.] All that's left is practice. Finding your own balance.
Everything else is easy because, once you have that perfect spot pegged... [With his ball, he steps forward, bringing it back and shooting it loose. It had a bit more spin on it this time, looking like it might graze the gutter, but then curving inward to strike the first pins from the side. In a grand clamor, the pins scatter and fly free, knocking against each other, the ball, the lane, the sweeper, until a right mess was left, and none of them were standing any longer.]
It's just a matter of finding it again. [Kind of like a head-shot, in a roundabout way.]