It's not easy to be 10. Better than 9, but still . . . Beautiful day out in the field looking for clovers in the tall grass. Suddenly the sound of a crack and the call of my name and I am jarred from the peaceful botanical quest. Somebody actually hit the ball and it's headed for me. I can't do this. I can't catch it. Everyone knows I can't. My teammates, my coach, even my parents know I have no business being out on this field. I will never catch it and everyone will hate me forever. My life is over. I want to die. Or at least go back to bed.
But something happens. I do catch it just this once. The fly ball lands in my open mitt. It does not drop. I do not fumble. I look at the glove and see this amazing orb situated right in front of me in my very own hand. How did this happen? What am I supposed to do next? But there is nothing left to do because my teammates are running for me and cheering and patting me on the back. This ends the game and things change. Suddenly I am a player and people like me. I'm accepted. I'm of value to the team. Because a ball landed in my glove. I never saw that coming.