“Can I have your glove?” Isaiah asked.
I am fully aware of the feeling of catching a ball on the palm. Unless Sophie’s using it, I still use my old George Brett model Wilson regularly. Between that glove and the 1940s Wilson, the meaty part of my left hand has toughened up quite a bit this year.
We were playing long toss when Isaiah caught a ball on his palm and grimaced. He played a couple games yesterday and is getting ready for the Sandlot Tournament this weekend. The last thing I want to do is bruise his left hand before a tournament, so we switched gloves. I was now using his 3-year old well-loved, woven-webbed infielder’s mitt and he had my new Wilson.
“This feels great!”
He intentionally caught throws on the palm and tested the length of the 12.75” mitt.
“Isaiah lives for baseball,” his mom said, which is exactly what my mom would have said when I was his age.
He’s a Royals fan, loves to read, and dreams MLB-playing dreams.
After long toss, Isaiah also used the 1940s Wilson; I threw as soft as possible. He was amazed at the feel of it as we talked about players who would have used it.
I don’t know what my catch-playing plans are for 2019. Of course, I’m still dreaming some of my own MLB dreams: a Royals first pitch or shagging flies during Spring Training batting practice or that MLB will hire me as a catch-playing and story-telling ambassador of the sport.
Wilson sent me this glove for free, as a gift, and I have loved using it. But Isaiah could use this glove throughout his high school years and beyond. And it takes courage to ask big, bold, questions.
“Check in with me in December,” I answered. “I’ll take good care of it for you between now and then.”
