There was this tall, skinny guy on my Little League baseball team named Mark. He was very cool, and he always pitched or played shortstop.
Mark could throw the ball about 100 miles per hour. Maybe faster.
He was so cool that he didn’t have to call anyone by name. He’d just say, “Hey!” and everyone’s head would turn to him.
That year, my first year of Little League, our team made it to the Searcy “World Series” game. Mark, of course, took the mound, where he proceeded to bean the first batter in the head. The other team didn’t get many hits after that, and we won the game handily.
Mark was definitely a cool customer, and every once in a while he’d look over at me and say, “Hey, Mike!” and I would bask in the glory of his attention.