You inadvertently kick yourself as well as, or instead of, the bag. This is painful in more ways than one.
You've been kicking for a few minutes with a group of hackers who have never even seen a delay before. You've been amazing them with your footbag prowess and almost have them worshipping you as a hacky god or goddess, but then your friend - who is a much better kicker than you - shows up and joins the circle.
You're kicking in a circle of freestyle hotdoggers and want to show off the new move you've just perfected. The set for the move comes from something simple, like a toe delay (which you normally hit 99.9% of the time), but you find that you can't even do the toe delay for the set. You then find yourself inundated with great advice on how to do a toe delay and encouraging words about how "you'll be hitting it pretty soon."
You go to a family reunion and discover that your grandmother has been telling all the relatives how good you are at kickball.
On a really hot, humid day you come in from your footbag session completely covered with sweat and your cat (who's shedding) starts rubbing against your legs.
You're playing footbag golf and lose your driver. While you're looking for it, other players are piling up behind you on the course, waiting for your group to finish the hole and everyone knows it's your fault.
You're playing footbag golf on an unfamiliar course and can't figure out where the next tee-off is.
You're playing doubles net and your partner is celebrating the killer shot they just made, while you contemplate how to tell them that it was invalidated by your net foul.
You're playing singles net and you're so busy celebrating the killer shot you just made that you fail to notice when your opponent somehow digs the bag out and returns it.
You're kicking in a circle and your favorite jammin' freestyle tune comes on the radio, but nobody will pass you the bag. The footbag finally comes to you just as the song ends.
You're playing footbag net and everyone involved loses track of the score.
You're in the middle of a consecutives rally and your shoe comes untied.
You're practicing consecutives and trying to keep an accurate count. But you have a radio on and the announcer starts saying, "Look for a low of 53 tonight; 74 for a high tomorrow; right now it's 69 degrees at 4:57 p.m. This is FM 104.2"
A little hacky brat becomes fascinated by what you're doing and decides the best view comes from right under your feet.
Everyone else in the circle seems to have an irresistible urge to shank the bag in your direction so that it rolls up and stops at your feet. You find yourself constantly picking up the footbag and tossing it to other people, but never getting a good pass so you can kick it yourself.
You're right in the middle of a freestyle move and the laws of physics suddenly change, causing you to miss the trick.
You're playing footbag on lumpy, uneven ground in a high wind; the sun is in your eyes and you have sore legs. But you do great anyway. Afterwards, you realize you can never use any of those excuses ever again.
Yeah, I hate it when that happens!