I have many wonderful memories of when I played Little League baseball as a youngster. While I wasn't necessarily one of the best players on my team in Waynesburg, Ohio, I had the time of my life those few years I played. During a stretch of one season, though, playing at second base, I was having trouble fielding the ball, as many times the ball would go right through my legs. I was always somewhat afraid of getting "too low" and having the ball come up and hit me in the face so that's why it would often go through my legs, because I wouldn't get down low enough. Well, after the ball went through my legs one time, our coach was very nice and said "hey Mark, get down a bit lower with your glove on the ground so that it won't go through your legs". Although I was bit hesitant to put my face any lower than I was used to, I wanted to please our wonderful coach and so on the next ball that was hit to me, I got down way low. Well, wouldn't you know but that the ball must have hit a small stone just in front of me and it kicked up above my glove and right into....my mouth. I felt, and heard a bit of a rattle. Then...I saw it. One of my teeth was on the ground in front of me. My coach felt badly since it happened on the next play after he told me to get lower. But, that ball did not go through my legs and I was proud of that. And, though he felt badly that I got hurt, I think my coach was proud too.