It's the bottom of the ninth. The score is tied and the bases are loaded. The coach, catcher and pitcher meet on the mound to discuss the throw that will mean the difference between being national champs or basement bums. Suddenly, from the third base line runs an overweight, out-of-breath fan who staggers to the meeting on the mound.
"I'm Jake," the fanatic breathes out heavily. "I'm coach of the Jayhawk Little League team and I have some advice I think can help you fellers out."
Sure, that's a strange scenario. You never see an amateur anything interrupting a pro at work. At Wimbledon, the amateur players stay in their seats. During the Super Bowl, a devoted admirer with a question about what socks a player wears doesn't barge into the huddle. No one dares interrupt a Kenny Chesney concert to ask the megastar for a speedy class on the guitar.
It happens to professional photographers though. All the time. So often in fact that pros have developed some pet peeves about those people who think that possessing a camera makes them a photographer.