Overzealous parents? Seemed like every kid had one in 1965. I don’t care if you’re only eight years old. You wanna be like Mick, you better get up early, boy…
Found this pic on the Pinterest.
“Boy, get up! Are you a man or a mouse? Don’t you know what day this is? Time to celebrate!”
The excitement in those ice blue eyes caught me off guard as he grinned, and I dropped my head back to the pillow. I was still digesting candy hearts from yesterday’s party at school.
“Pitchers and catchers report today! Every Major League camp. Think of ‘em all, grizzled vets, pink-faced prospects, all getting out of bed in their hotels down in Arizona, Florida, ready for another season. Getting their gear on for the first time this year. Walking out onto a field so green in that golden sunshine, it takes your breath away just to look at it. It’s never ‘wait ‘til next year’ in February, boy. It’s always ‘this is the year.’ We’re going down to the park to practice!”
I remembered what I was wearing. The Old Man had put me to bed in a baseball uniform. It was all coming back as the sleep faded away.
I reached in my closet for my old glove, but the Old Man grabbed my arm. “Wait,” he said with a reverent rasp. “Wait. Get the new one from under your mattress.”
I had just gotten to like that lump in my bed. But I pulled out the bundle, unwrapped Mom’s best towel and stuck my hand in the glove. I put it over my face and took a long sniff of that musky Neatsfoot. Wide awake now, I smiled. It was smooth, soft. It wrapped around the ball with no effort. Like the Old Man said, it was broken in just right.
The Old Man smelled it too and grunted approval. Arm around my shoulder, he sighed and stared out my basement bedroom window, maybe stuffing away those unspoken wishes, hopes, regrets in his heart. He had these moments. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I liked it. But the moments always ended too soon, the dreamy wistful poet in him fading away, reality returning.
He stiffened. “Let’s go! Your mom has eggs ready! Gotta get moving, boy. Someone else might get to the field before us.” Snowflakes meandered on the breeze outside. Shaking my head, I was pretty sure we were safe.
– From Diamonds and Dirt