I Have a Problem with Balls

Ah, to be a chubby, clumsy, unathletic kid in the '70s. Such exquisite torture...and sweet revenge.

I have a problem with balls. I can’t catch them, I can’t hold on to them, and I certainly can’t throw them.

But apparently, balls don’t have a problem with me. They seem drawn to me. I could be walking by a playing field, a tennis court, or even a neighbor’s yard, and balls of all sorts would inevitably seek me out.