It was fourth grade recess league softball, and I managed to avoid my name sticking to any roster.
The teachers didn’t know what to do, so they asked if I’d be an umpire.
“No,” I said.
But they made me do it anyway.
“Strike!” I shouted after every pitch, even ones that hit the plate.
The principal, who was pitching, had me move next to him.
“Strike!” I continued to shout.
A gang of other kids joined the chorus.
“Strike! Strike! Strike!” they shouted mockingly.
“Oh, good,” I said. “You can take over then.”
And I walked home from school.