After dinner the small boy stood at the far side of the lawn with his back to the street. He focused on a point in front of him, waiting for the ball to come his way. He opened his mitt, he accepted what arrived, he tossed it back with full effort.

Cars slowed down as they moved past the house, predicting a runaway baseball could enter the street at any minute. He leaned left for a catch, immediately turned right for another. He seemed a dynamo from a distance, but on the approach it became clear: he had no batter, no pitcher, no partner for playing catch, and no baseball at all. A boy and a mitt alone in the lawn, living out a highlight reel with great seriousness.

His grand catch arrived. He stepped forward, back, staring up in the air. He briefly used the mitt to shield his…