Resumo de The Assassins Of The Ball Nation

During my school life I have managed to come across many instances which can at best be described as bizarre. I managed to come across a phenomenon which has baffled me for the better part of my life and even a degree in Physics has not been able to clear the air surrounding the mystery of the frequent attacks on one of my close friends by balls. That is right balls, of all shapes and sizes but mostly tennis balls which are used to play cricket in the subcontinent. Every time that we used to hang out in the school field, my friend managed to find himself in the trajectory of one of these non lethal yet painful assassins. At first we shrugged it off as coincidence claiming that the balls did not come looking for my friend rather that he managed to somehow land in the projectile?s trajectory. This misconception was however put to rest one fine autumn afternoon when during one of our frequent walks across the field, my friend managed to find himself in a personal conversation with a couple of his classmates. I not wishing to intrude turned my attention to an ongoing cricket match on the field. Now for those of you who are acquainted with the sport would know what I am talking about however for those who don?t, the space provided herein would not be sufficient to explain the intricacies of one of the longest and mind boggling games on earth. The batsman at the crease managed to hit a lovely straight drive right past the bowler and the ball rolled along the semi concrete field towards where I was standing. Now my friend (the target) was standing a few paces towards my right and had his back to me. I decided to intercept the ball (for it was going to reach the boundary for there was no fielder in sight) however just as I bent over to stop it, the ball (as if it had received instructions from its superiors) hit an exposed metal pipe and drastically changed course by ninety degrees and hit my friend on his cheeks, and not the ones grandmothers kiss. After this incident I managed to rechristen my friend as a ball magnet. I have come up with many theories as to why he always became the target when it could very easily have had been me. Of the wild stories I cooked up one involved my friend torturing a ball during his early childhood and the balls merely taking revenge.
Of all the incidences the flying assassins did manage to come very close at extracting a revenge on one occasion. It was a bright summer day and we were engaging ourselves to a little game of hide and seek. I being a master at the game knew that the best place to hide was to dissolve among the people. During our process of mingling I decided to look out for the den and my trusty friend stood by me hoping to stay safe from being detected. I surveyed the situation and turned to my friend only to find him missing. Thinking that he had moved on to hide elsewhere I decided to move on and noticing a small group of boys huddled together I realized that it was the best place to hide. As I made my way through the towering figures I came upon the reason for all the commotion. There in the center he lay, motionless, being helped to his feet by others. From the preliminary reports of the boys I gathered that during the course of the game a player had managed to hit the ball for a six, however as the ball obliged to gravity, it managed to find its way to my friends head. The only real victim of the entire episode however was an ice cream that my friend was relishing before his tryst with destiny. The years have gone by and I have lost contact with my friend however if he does read this I would like to assure him that I have given up the quest to locate the source of the phenomenon for I have come to the conclusion that men far better than me would take more than a lifetime to figure it out.

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