There are two kind of humans on this planet (which is like a playground ), one who are people and the others who have balls; I mean who are Balls. The ball(s) sit in the center, (of the playground of course), happy to be surrounded by the people, the ball likes to have all the attending people give to it and it thinks they are in love with it until the whistle blows and the game begins .
If it’s match of football, rugby or hockey, the ball is suddenly approached from all sides , Its eyes bulge out our of excitement that humans have finally decided to accept it as one of them , but a ball is a ball and nothing more or less than a ball. There is a reason balls are also called nuts, because they are nuts, totally crazy and brainless nuts, don’t they look at them selves !, they are round, rolling all around all to see that attention of the creature they are not . Well it bounced with excitement and all of a sudden one kick, followed by the second and the third, and so on until either the ball is no more or the players decide to take a break .
but in case of cricket, where the humans decide to pick the ball up in their hand, the ball all red and bright becomes very happy until it the player decided to rub it against his crouch, the ball screams “eewww”. Poor thing its too late, its already in the air hurling towards another human being , and right before it could think of anything , “Zittakh” a wooden bat touches the body of the ball so fast it knocks the senses (the very few it has) out of its tiny body .
well the ball is a ball, its silly and small, it does not accept who it is and keeps rolling here and there for its own little interests, wish only if it was a cube, which accepts its self as nether the ball not the human, it would have sat on a pedestal as an statement that it exists , its red bright or lime green would have been an inspirations , it would have touched a few precious souls and may have brought smiles on a few faces too.