Somewhat funny, somewhat sigh-inducing, somewhat sad. Man sees foul ball coming in his direction – a foul ball he could possible catch. His daughter, ever enthusiastic and eager to get some part in the action, is in his arms, her own outstretched in a silent vie for the foul ball as well. But as the foul ball nears, something goes awry; perhaps dad becomes so fixated on the prospect of catching the foul ball that he forgets he’s holding a human, perhaps dad simply wants to be the one to catch the ball. Occam’s razor offers no guidance here, as both options seem equally mindless, just as the dad seems while dropping said daughter and, in the end, missing the foul ball.