Now that the weather is finally warming up, and it is definitely Spring time, I find my mind gravitating to something that I have not thought of for some time. And that is Baseball.
Ah, yes, the well-known, quintessential American Sport Invention. And it is again vying for the attention of my mind and body.
Why this renaissance?
I used to play it when I was small, skinny kid. Where all I wanted to do was to run, hit and catch a ball, and occasionally get dirty sliding into an unoccupied base. When we kids set all the rules and played according to those rules. It was all our creation. And we loved the fantasy.
Times change. And so do people. But the fever of swinging a bat and hitting a ball as far as you can remains.
One story that remains with me is the theory of the glove. There seems to be an all encompassing conspiracy of the universe that you can’t find a left-handed glove. And if you do find one, it will be the wrong size.
Back in the 70’s my mom found exactly one that fit me. One! I don’t know where she found it. I just remember going to various stores and not finding one. Oh, how I love my new glove and I used and took care of it. I treasured this new left-handed glove as I was convinced it was a one-of-kind. Something unique in the universe.
High School brought its own challenges. But one of them was not worrying about a baseball glove. I had mine. The glove was five years old, dusty and not exactly new. But I had one. And it was all mine. Never shared or lent to anyone.
In college I had to hang up my glove to study technical stuff that I, nor anyone else, ever uses anymore. Does anyone even care about BASIC? How about 2N2222 transistors?
But the fever remained. I find myself going back into time. Ah, the baseball memories of hitting a homerun. Or of sliding into home plate. Or throwing out a runner from the sitting position of a catcher. Or striking out the best batter we ever had.
And the damn difficulty of finding a left-handed glove.
I recently searched at Dickey’s, a sporting goods store here in Huntington Beach. They had a wall of gloves from the small to large sizes. How many of them were for lefties? Two! And I don’t mean two models, I mean exactly two gloves. Out of hundreds of gloves on the wall, just two of them were left-handed. And of course, they were the wrong size.
Last weekend at the Goldenwest College swap meet I did find another left-handed glove. It was a bright pink color. And I might have tried it on, but was made for a little girl. I just had to laugh! It was the universe making fun of my earnest and ultimately futile search.