Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: so in 6th grade, i fucked up, but it became one of the foundations for one of the best things in my life. here we go: 

the year is 2007 and i'm in 6th grade. in my town that means that i'm spending my last year at the elementary school that hitherto, i've spent my entire academic and social life. next year my class will be merging with the classes of the 5 other elementary schools in my town to form our middle school. as anyone who has advanced to the next level in school knows, this is a huge fucking deal. every 6th grader knows that 7th grade is when you take that next step towards adulthood and really start living. because the legendary middle school years can be full of sleepovers, pizza parties, energy drinks, maybe even a cringe-worthy first kiss. the future is bright! if you're among the pre-teen cultural elite. that is.

luckily for me, a generally awkward 11 year old leaving elementary school with 2 friends and half a library of fantasy-fiction books in my room, my rec center plans two high-stakes, be there  or be square, social-catapult type events to introduce all the students across the city to each other. the first is a test of athleticism,  an absolutely crucial skill for any young man hoping to join a posse of cool young gentlemen and perhaps attract a gal. the second is a social gala, a dance per se, where one may hope to waltz themselves into popularity with rhythmic excellence and social grace. this fu happens at the open gym. 

it’s on a friday night, and everything starts of smoothly. mom executes a perfect car-pool drop off, getting us there right on time because everyone knows that’s the coolest time to arrive at an event. everything starts great, strangers from across the town are all present and showing off their athletic prowess.  double dutch is happening, an intense round of freeze tag is in-action, and i’m making friends! i make one friend in particular, we’ll call him hank, who seems to be quite alright. i helped him out of a few tough spots during freeze-tag and i’m getting along with his crew from across town real nicely. so we grab ourselves a few libations to cool down and chat before getting involved in another feat of athleticism. after a few capri-sun, and plenty of laughs (i had the best fart jokes),  an important announcement is made. it’s wiffle ball time. 
this is important. for one: the balance, poise, speed and strength required by the game of wiffle ball make it the perfect example of a preteens athleticism. but my town is actually the town where the original wiffle ball factory is (honestly, they probably got the supplies donated because of this) and in my eyes this makes this about as important a local pastime as hotdogs and fireworks on the 4th of july!  

teams are made, and as it turns out i’m opposing hank, the friend i’m currently courting. this is perfect, because obviously the best way to make new male friends is to assert your dominance by beating them via sport. 

i immediately find my way in to line. i’m batting 4th.  a powerful position. clean-up hitter. 

hank happens to be pitching and he’s doing alright. he strikes out two of the three batters ahead of me because he has a mean slider. but i’m ready for that. 

after what seems like ages i step up to bat. 

i arrive he plate with glory in my head. nay, glory within in reach. there’s one man on base but and rbi isn’t cool. a single isn’t cool. i know the only option for me is an inside the  gym home-run. the epitome of sportly excellence.  my eyes are on the crown of middle school popularity, and this skinny yellow plastic bat is going to fly me there. obviously i call me shot a la babe ruth. 

the ball leaves hank’s hands. 

suddenly everything is slow motion. i can see the ball spin as it approaches me. it begins to dip but i’m ready for it. i’m going to catch the ball the second crosses the plate and send it to mars with a rocket up its ass. all i here is the telltale whistle of the wiffle ball. it’s within my reach and i swing away! swing myself to absolute glory! i connect to the ball and…

i slice it, right to the ground where it slowly rolls towards the pitcher. as people laugh at my misfortune i only have one option, to sprint towards first base and put my fate in the hands of hank’s reflexes. or perhaps there’s a second option? perhaps i toss this bat towards the ball i just woefully under-hit, to knock it off course and complete my original plan to sprint my way to  a homerun. 

the second i have this idea, my arm puts it into action, i toss the bat expertly towards the ball to knock it ever so slightly off course. only i don’t toss the bat. with an accidental flick of the wrist i turn that bat into a plastic missile that’s heading right for the ball. right for where hank is currently lunging. right for his nose. literally, square on the bridge of  his nose. 

the rest is a bit of a blur, there’s shouting, hank falls down. chaperones rush to his aid. children scream at me for being the bat-happy maniac with a temper that i seem to be. the opposite of glory.  hank was attended to by an emt that came to stop his nose from bleeding, and luckily it was just a minor break. i spent the rest of a night wallowing in the corner of the room, wishing i didn’t exist, or have such poor in-the-moment judgment. i felt terrible for hurting a kid i thought i was becoming friends with. and getting middle school off to such an awful start, was a poor consolation. like icarus i flew too high with my dreams and plummeted to my doom. 

that september, i walked into my homeroom class only to find hank sitting directly behind me. my heart dropped, i knew my reputation as a bandit-bat-basher would follow me to my grave. instead, he cracks a joke about it. i ended up sharing classes, laughs and some of the best memories of my life with that kid for the next 6 years (throughout middle school and high school). to this day he’s one of my best friends, (and he still has a bump on the bridge of his nose (from yours truly).

TIFU by by attempting to achieve athletic glory in middle school.