As a child, throwing in a torn ball of beaten brick were crushed over passers. Placing on a path near the pitch, they friendlyly shouted to the passers: Uncle, please pull the ball. Few people refrained from such a temptation, and we carefully watched afterwards how the foolish footballers continued to melt and shrink. And here was the event that ended our cruelty. I saw these shoes right away. A 25-year-old man in glossy lacquered shoes emerged from behind the garage and immediately saw him. The ball on the track, so fascinated him that he could no longer see or hear anything. We cried out: Uncle, do not pin! After all, even we understood, at that time, such shoes were a great rarity, and cost a lot of money. But the boy was unwavering. The three-kilogram ball climbed 2 meters and flew at least 5 meters. This was probably a record for the range of pinning of brick-filled balls. The boy swung, and grabbed himself for his foot began to ride on the ground, remembering the mother of all our relatives to the tenth knee. Without waiting for it to end, we scratched into all the shooters in the houses. And here I still remember this case, and I am tormented by the bite of conscience, like this man. The case was in Actou, in the year so in the 80s, maybe anyone knows what to do with it?