8th grade. After school softball. I'm playing catcher. Now, a little known fact about my childhood is that my mother tended to buy clothes that were just a wee bit too small for me. On this particular day, the blue jeans I was wearing (I believe they were JCPenney branded blue jeans) had a snap button on the front (not a button that you put through a slot, like on a shirt, but a SNAP like you might find on a jacket.) Anyway, I had been battling this snap all day at school and I had this game that I had to play. I don't remember what inning it was, but the other team had a couple of guys on base (1st & 3rd, I believe) and there was one out. The batter hits a bouncer to short and the runner on 3rd takes off. Now, instead of trying to turn a double play (because, really, how many 8th grade after school softball players in the 1980s are turning twin-killings?) he threw home. Of course, as I bend to receive the throw, which was right on target, the pants unsnap. I catch the ball, make the tag, and record the out, getting semi-knocked over and semi-tripped by my now drooping-half-way-down-my-thighs blue jeans. Please note, the story is not over yet. The runner on 1st, seeing that I am struggling to stand up, takes off for 3rd base. So I frantically whip the ball toward third but in my awkwardness, I make a pretty poor throw that goes off the 3rd baseman's glove. So now the runner takes off for home. Sure enough, the throw comes to the plate right on the money, I make the tag, and record the out to end the inning. At this point, my pants are literally at my ankles. I'm walking back to the bench and everybody (and I mean EVERYBODY) is rolling with laughter and cheers. I still remember Mrs. Brandt, my eighth grade teacher's wife just laughing hysterically with big wide eyes like she could just die because there would never be anything as funny that she would see for the rest of her life. I don't remember who won that day. I don't remember anything else about that game. But it was the finest double play that I ever turned. And, unfortunately, the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. (I feel like I'm narrating for "The Sandlot.") And, finally, I swear to God on my grandmother's grave that this story is 100% true. If you lived in Fond du Lac in the spring of 1987 and played in after school softball in a game on one of those diamonds by that school on the far south end of Park Avenue, that's where it all went down. Maybe you were there.