y memories of school athletics form a flipbook of shame-lit moments of failing at the bat.

But so what? My brain worked, and my tongue, which became a pen, and eventually, a computer. But back then, being fat gave me entrée ­ so to speak ­ into the one social realm at school where nothing was faked: the society of last-picks.

The other kids ran around panting like puppies and did stuff.

We talked.