What does this incident reveal about the narrator? The pitcher lobbed a slow ball to me, and under normal circumstances, I would have whacked it into the outfield; but for some reason, I swung prematurely and hit nothing but air. Off to my right behind the fence, a girl in black jeans and a fuchsia sweater snickered at me. I smiled my brightest, pearly smile and shrugged, but she tossed her long brown hair back and turned away, blowing a huge pink bubble. He knows how to take ridicule in stride. He is easily influenced by others. He doesn’t care whether he makes the team. He doesn’t think he will strike out.