Had some moments like this all throughout my school career.

In middle school I was receiving a cross court pass in a game of handball. It was the finals in front of the entire grade level. I saw the pass coming from the goalie (I had literally been asking for it), lined up for the catch, and as the ball fell to me my hands parted like the Red Sea.

The worst had to have been during a game as a high school freshman of "Artillery" which was essentially a modified dodge ball with a central zone either team could enter. We were down to just me and one other guy, he safe on his side of the court, me poised in the middle, each with a ball. An old style standoff. He points to the entrance of the guy behind me and says "Look, a fire!"

Now I knew there was no fire. Really I did. But I looked. Only took an instant, and I came back with my eyes rolling and a shit-eating grin on like I'd outsmarted him by not believing the lie. Then it hit me.

It was a lime green. felt-covered soccer ball, missing just enough air to give it a hard thumping sound as it connected and to let it wrap neatly around my whole face before bounding off into the distance. Everyone saw: athletes, dorks, attractive women, teachers. The supervising coach, a widely respected basketball coach who has won several 5A titles, literally doubled over and then collapsed to the ground from laughter.

To be fair, it never made me cry and I was always right back in the game right after. I was lucky to be an early adopter of carbon-fiber glasses frames, especially after they would spiral off my deeply nearsighted face. And I never heard much about it from my peers; I guess they figured it hurt enough.

I did spend a lot of high school writing plot outlines for an undeveloped story about a nerdy kid making a violent comeback during a game of dodge ball, though. Guess I never really made that connection until now.

TL;DR: I dealt with a lot of balls in my face during my school years. Wait. No.