After some hurried explanation (no, stand in front of me, and turn around, yes that’s it), Coach Dan had Butch positioned where he wanted him. He then held the tennis ball in his right hand, out from his body at chest height.
“All you have to do — is take the ball.”
Coach Dan blinked. “Yes, now would be a good time, Butch.”
Butch took the ball from his fencing coach. “Good — now, put it back. No not there — ” Butch had begun walking back to the canvas sack which his coach had carried into practice that day — “back in my hand.”
“Oh! Which one?”
Coach Dan flexed the fingers of his right hand, and with another Oh!, Butch laid the ball back from where it had been taken. “Now I want you take it again — but with a difference.”
And suddenly the sock in his left hand seemed to come to life, flying up and to the right, coming down just beyond the reach of his right hand, then coming back up from the left, over, down, forming a garmented circle in front of the tennis ball.
“Your job — is to take the ball, without the sock hitting you.”