Smell the Glove!

So I found out Monday that I'm on the company softball team. Problem being...the only glove I own broke a couple of years ago.

So I rolled out to Dick's Sporting Goods and bought myself a nice softball glove -- something that should last me at least a decade of weekend warrior stints out on the mall.

Something I hadn't done in decades was break a glove in...luckily, like riding a bike, once you learn you never forget. I remember getting my first glove with my father, oiling it up, stuffing a ball in it, and wrapping it tightly. I remember my father telling me that I'd have to wait at least a week for the oil to work its magic before I could use it. The torture of the delayed gratification is probably something analogous to telling a released prisoner to go to a whorehouse and take his time.

Oddly enough, I remember my father telling me that I had to store the glove under my bed -- probably his little psychological ploy to keep it out of sight and out of mind. Didn't work. Like picking at a scab, I'd open that thing up every night and marvel at the metamorphisis taking place.

I think I'll have more restraint this time -- I don't even need to keep it under the bed.