Making It Up As I Go Along #365

FRIDAY...
— Very quiet Good Friday at work. Phil and I have to look for things to do for a good portion of the day.
— Watch some of the Master’s golf on TV after work. You know HD is good when you decide to record second round coverage of a golf tournament just to be able to watch in such clear detail. Although I do like the Master’s anytime.

SATURDAY...
— Another slow day at work. After it’s over, Sheila takes me for supper at Dick’s. No burger this time... I switch it up and try the grilled cheese... still good stuff.
— A bit of hockey on TV for the night and some of the stuff I’ve recorded on the PVR after that.

SUNDAY...
— Up around 10:30 on Easter Sunday. That’s not as impressive a sleep in when you consider I stayed up until almost 5:00 AM. But hopefully I’ll be good for night shift now.
— Watch some baseball and hockey then go for a nap... awakened early from the nap by mom phoning. But hopefully I got enough sleep to be okay for the shift and it was right to talk with mom and dad on Easter.
— Again, work is pretty slow. We get pizza... and I find that it looks like I lose a hockey pool by one point. I hope the official scoring tomorrow will give me that extra point but I think it’s second place for me.

MONDAY...
— Quiet time at home and I’m pretty tired. Got one of those tired headaches.
— Work is quiet once again. A very quiet week over the Easter weekend. And I drive home with the eastern sky pretty bright. No more driving to and from work in the dark anymore. Winter really is over.

TUESDAY...
— Up just before noon. Watch some TV, call home for a chat, and go out for some groceries and a walk around the pond.

WEDNESDAY...
— Up and out early. Well, early for a day off two days after night shift. Up at 9:30, gone at 10:15. To Mazda to get the car looked over and get the snow tires off. I go for a walk in the area while I wait. Sad to see there’s a children’s school there, in the middle of an industrial park setting. Not ideal for kids.
— Go to Sportchek after the garage and get some softball gear. New bat and glove, a bag and batters gloves. First new glove in 20 years. A player’s relationship to their glove is a unique thing.
— Getting home, I pop a seam in the bag putting gear in it... and a couple of stitches pop on one batting glove. So back to Sportchek I’ll be going tomorrow for an exchange. Top notch stuff!
— NHL Playoffs begin. Many other cities now try to allow the fans to sing a section of the national anthem... but nobody does it better than the fans in Vancouver.

THURSDAY...
— Snoozing pretty much until 1:00 this afternoon. That is to say, asleep until 10:00 and pretty much in and out of nap from then to 1:00 on the sofa.
— In to work for a meeting. Then home again for hockey with Sheila. Watch Montreal lose even though they played pretty well. They likely won’t get out of that series against Boston.

FRIDAY...
— As I sit to write the blog, a Yankee game comes on TV. The pre-game has a little tribute to public address announcer, Bob Sheppard. The art of the public address announcer at pro sports events has been lost. There needs to be more Bob Sheppards... those guys who are distinct in their voice and professionalism. Today’s PA announcers want to come off as a fan with a microphone. They drawl out the names of hometown players... putting an exclamation point on the end of every sentence... some (the guy for the Boston Bruins, for example) give a “woop” after announcing a goal. Pathetic!... Woo!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj434vCtNRw&feature=player_embedded

See above for a tribute to a real public address announcer.


Thirty Years of Gloves
I have played ball for most of my life. My first memories of playing were back in the days of our old Volkswagen Camper. We’d be at our campsite and would break out the two old gloves that were always thrown into the van come summer. One glove was dad’s, the other mom’s but we’d share them up among the four of us to have a catch. I loved those gloves... dad’s especially. Funny how the same exact glove has it’s own differences. Looking at it now, it’s the way the glove is broken in... how it feels on the hand and how it closes over a ball. But back then, when I was six or seven years old, it was a difference in personality. One glove was more worn, more floppy, more comfortable on the hand... it was like a laid back friend versus a casual acquaintance. That was the difference between dad’s glove and mom’s.

Today, dad’s glove sits in my storage closet. A couple of times a year I’ll be looking for something else in the closet and spot the glove. Every time I need to pull it out and put it on my hand again. It’s a bit more worn now. A splotch of dark brown where I dabbed an ink marker on it by accident. The inside leather against the hand, now so worn that it is torn and holey. I actually adopted this glove as a street hockey goalie scoop too. In fact, that glove spent more time making saves than fielding grounders. Many a time I jammed a half frozen hand, complete with wool glove, into that glove... near frostbite... the price of goaltending.

I had other gloves before dad’s. But I have no memory of using them in a game of ball. My first was a little vinyl glove. Blue and red in color with the Montreal Expos emblem on it. Often that glove would be among my toys, but rarely did it go outside. Years later, I would play with it in the basement. Tossing a little rubber ball against the basement drawers and fielding the one hoppers and line shots that ricocheted back at me.

Another small glove took this one’s place. Again, I have no memory of using it on a field, but it was the obvious leather glove to take the place of the vinyl one. That one is also in my storage closet now... I think... if not it’s in mom and dad’s basement. I know I saw it within the last couple of years. That glove became my main rubber ball glove. Making glove saves or fielding line shots down in the basement. It would be so small on my hand that I’d imagine myself as one of those old time ball players you see in black and white footage from the 1920s. Those gloves just covered the hand, doing nothing more.

The first glove I remember buying was a catcher’s mit. I didn’t catch at the time but I always loved the look of the mit. Mom brought me downtown where I could look at a wall of gloves. I love looking at the glove walls of sports stores. The different sizes and shades of leather. Being able to pick one off the rack and the comfort of the leather covering your hand as you try closing the yet unbroken in glove.

Back then, I was drawn to a Cooper catcher’s mit. And mom got it for me. I still have it. Up in the closet. And even though I never used it in an organized game, I’d take it for games of pick up or when I’d go out with a friend and we’d take turns pitching. The pop of the ball hitting that glove made you feel as though you threw it a hundred miles an hour.

My first glove, bought specifically for me to use in organized ball was a big black Cooper glove. I used it at first base, even though it wasn’t a typical first baseman’s scoop. Another glove still in my storage closet. It’s worn now. In retirement and more grey than black from wear. That glove always had a ball in it. Be it me catching balls at first or it sitting on the dugout bench while we batted, a ball in it’s pocket waiting for me to take it to the field and warm up the infielders when our bat was over. As years went by, that glove followed me into the outfield on those occasions when someone else took a turn at first.

My next glove was bought about twenty years ago. And is still in use. A light colored Mizuno. When I first got that glove, it was when I started moving about the field. My black Cooper was broken in with too big a pocket to be useful at second base, so the new Mizuno came onto the scene to be used around the infield while the old Cooper would come out when I ventured back to first base or the outfield.

Another catcher’s mit came into my possession as the years went on. A black D&R mit that started off as the team mit for our men’s league team. Shared between the three of us who took turns behind the plate. And when the team disbanded, the glove came with me. It waits to come into use again this summer as I make a comeback to the world of fastpitch. That mit popping much like the old Cooper when of my childhood. Catcher’s mits are fun for their popping.

And this week, a new chapter to my glove world. With wear, my twenty year old Mizuno’s pocket is becoming a bit too deep. So it will go as my old black Cooper went before, to first base and the outfield. And a new, smaller black Rawlings glove has joined the team to be used at shortstop and second base.

So I once again begin the process of the break in. An elastic band keeping the glove closed around a ball. Taking it up, putting it on, and throwing balls into the pocket. Awaiting it’s first game of catch. Examining the stitching... not looking for frays but getting to know my new glove... admiring the ins and outs of it. Smelling the new leather and feeling the comfort of the inner leather against my palm.

There’s nothing quite like a ball player’s glove.