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Nice Catch

The first mitt I remember owning was given to me by my father as a birthday gift. It was a letdown. There was no fingers inside, just a mushy place to put your hand, a strange feature that my father thought was clever. I didn’t agree. He bought himself a glove at the same time that was a traditional glove (a Joe Morgan autograph version). At the time, I wished I had had his glove and felt somehow as if he was telling me that I wasn’t ready for a regular mitt yet.

I don’t know how long I had that mitt, but through high school it seemed as if I lost a mitt each season. Which wasn’t the worst thing because I so thoroughly enjoyed the process of breaking a glove in–oiling it, bending it back and forth, throwing a ball into the web over and over, and then tying up the mitt with a ball in the center at night and putting it under my pillow.

During my second year of high school, my coach gave me his old Wilson A2000, which had been lovingly broken in and used for years. I lost that one too, leaving it behind on the field at an away game. I don’t recall having my own mitt after that, although there were always a couple around the house. Then, about ten years ago, I bought a new one even though my baseball activities had been reduced to the occasional catch. It is a Nokona 12″ second baseman’s glove, a swell mitt, one that was desinged and suited for baseball and really too small for softball.

I got to thinking about the glove after reading Steve Lombardi’s wonderful post featuring some of his mitts–he’s owns seven!

Anyone got any good glove stories? And, do you call it a mitt or a glove?

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"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver