Balls Hate Me, Children Hate Me

Why is it that whenever balls go flying, I'm the one who gets hit?

There was that time that I was eight and playing Monkey in the Middle with my uncles and got whacked by a softball, thus causing my ear to swell ridiculously.  Then there were my pathetic attempts to play basketball and volleyball, attempts only made because some people figured that my height might make me good at those sports (but, I sure showed them).  Then there was today.

I was at my grandma's house for my cousin's going away party and there were some boys playing toss-the-football on the grass.  I was standing as part of the crowd on the patio when I heard my brother, who was standing next to me, shout "Heads up!"

As soon as that last syllable of the warning hit my eardrum, the football nailed the bottom part of my head and my neck, while throwing my right shoulder forward.

"Ow, shit!"

I turned around and the kids continued with the game.  No apology.  Not even an acknowledgement that one of them threw too long and the other can't catch a football.

One of the parents apologized and that was only because my sister proclaimed loudly, "Well, an apology would have been nice."

"Eh, it's no big deal," I said to the father.

I lied.  Of course it's a big deal.  Four hours later, my shoulder still hurts.  And what the fuck is wrong with those kids that they can't apologize for themselves?