Lets make this a thing.
Whenever a couple has their first child, I think that the men in the expectant father’s life should chip in and buy him a good baseball glove.
Yes, do this after the wives have all bought the important baby-care necessities. Don’t skimp on real shower gifts. This is extra. Skip the cigars, spend what you’d spend if you took him out for drinks or something. Get some 2nd-tier friends to kick in 5 bucks. Don’t tell them that they are 2nd-tier friends, but maybe show them this post, they’ll give you money.
Whether the impending offspring is a boy-child or girl-child, get the glove. It doesn’t matter. Fatherhood is fatherhood. My daughter, 4, can’t wait for tee-ball to start in the spring, it will be her first time. She has a glove too. It’s pink. What can I do?
Baseball has connected fathers with children in America for over one hundred years. If you don’t come from a baseball loving country, feel free to substitute whatever cricket bat, curling stone, or caber seems most appropriate. I recently re-laced the Wilson 2800 First Basemen’s Mitt that my father has owned since the 70s, when he played softball. Its the glove he used when I failed at becoming a skilled baseball player for much of my childhood. I was an awful, awful baseball player. I get dizzy when I run, and I have the grace and agility of a gawky teenage octopus with Huntington’s Disease. Nonetheless, we played catch. That was 20 years ago. We played catch this year too. He used the same glove. It cost the same as an iPhone when new, and its 30-something years old now. I’m on my second iPhone in 4 years.
Once or twice a year I have this Field of Dreams moment where I play catch with my father. Its better than the movie, because he’s still alive and we never really had that huge fight that we need to recover from.
My oldest son had his second season of tee-ball this year. He’s going to be better than I was. He already is. His glove is classic saddle brown. I taught him to oil it, and then we wrapped a baseball in it, tied it up with string, and he put it under his pillow to break it in.
I found my old glove from when I was 12 (I never played after 12, I love baseball but I couldn’t take being that bad at something in public. I started playing music more.) Its a black Rawlings. I can make it fit if I loosen the straps enough, but it’s tight. My son oiled it and offered to sleep on it for a few nights, so I let him. This is what we play catch with before tee-ball. It bears the golden signature of Jose Canseco on the palm.
Jose. Canseco.
So its time for me to get an adult baseball glove. My parents have all but insisted. They are paying for it. I’m 33 years old, and my parents are buying me a baseball glove. I picked it out myself. They get it. If none of my kids ever play past the 4-5 yr old tee-ball level, I have 5 more consecutive years of games to go to. And I suspect that at least one or two of them will want to play beyond that.
Maybe they won’t play after the age of 12. Maybe they’ll want to play in Jr High or High School. Maybe they will get frustrated and need to put it away for a few years. But maybe, just maybe, when one of my children is 33 years old, we’ll go outside and throw the ball around.
So the next time a friend has their first child, or their next child, we need to make sure they have a glove. Let’s make this a thing.
