I saw it many years ago when I came to a large town in the Caucasus. In the yard of a residential house, an elderly serious man paints a large wooden bench. He works slowly, but very carefully. There is a little boy around, 12 years old. He then strikes the ball, then strikes him at the wall. He catches him if he can, or runs with screams to get him. All this happens in dangerous proximity to the worker. The man, as it is appropriate for a serious person, tries not to pay attention to the rush and the screams of a young enthusiast. Finally, the ball goes straight into him. Keeping calm, he holds him in his arms and calls the boy. By the way, in this city, then almost everyone spoke Russian. Giving him the ball, he with a deterrent annoyance says, "Listen, I was also a little boy, but I would never have been such a handed boy."