With my back turned, my treacherous son uncorked a fastball that whizzed past my ear. Though his aim was poor, his intent was clear: the kid wanted to knock my fucking head off.
Thanks to my sometimes-popular wife, the cameras were rolling just in time to catch my retaliation to his craven attack.
I'd say the old man showed him a thing or two. Maybe he'll bring his 'A' game the next time he wants to start some crap with Dad.