Jerry Davich: Memories of old ball mitt circle the bases in my mind

My first mitt was bright blue and stiffer than a brand new pair of jeans. I bought it with my own money and walked out of the sporting goods store with a swagger and delusional dreams of playing in the bigs like my hero Bill Buckner.

He wore Cubbie blue from 1977 to 1984, back when I was a diehard Chicago Cubs fan. For 22 seasons, Buckner sported a trademark smile, a thick mustache and big dark eyebrows. He batted lefty and fielded left-handed, just like me playing first base in countless sandlot games.

I had no skills and even less talent, but man did I love that mitt.

On the night I bought it, I rubbed it with glove oil like I was a massage therapist. I tucked an old baseball in its pocket, wrapped it up tightly with shoestrings and prayed to the baseball gods it would work miracles the next day at the sandlot field near my home.

Either I didn’t pray correctly or I didn’t break in my mitt long enough.

Too many balls scooted by me near first base. I looked like Billy “between the legs” Buckner in game 6 of the 1986 World Series.

All of these memories circled the bases in my head when a work colleague asked if I still had my old mitt. He still has his gloves, with stamped autographs on them of MLB players.

“I do -- somewhere,” I replied.

I could see it in my mind buried in a bin in my basement with boxes of baseball cards from my childhood. I just can’t seem to part with them. Who knows when I’ll need a trading card for Joe Pepitone, Glenn Beckert or Johnny Callison.

On Tuesday, coincidentally on International Left-Handers Day, I searched for my old baseball mitt in several basement bins like a kid unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning. I thought it would be as easy as a can-of-corn catch in center field. Instead, it was like a triple play in the bottom of the ninth with the game on the line. I never found it.

I also tried to unearth an old batting glove I once used. My batting was always below average, so any accessory was welcomed to boost my batting average. I stumbled onto an old football and two basketballs, all deflated, like my childhood sports dreams.

Maybe your favorite childhood sport was hockey or football or basketball. Maybe you still have old sporting equipment somewhere in your house or shed or garage. I asked my social media readers.

“I still have the glove I used in the Pony League 68 years ago, and on up into semi pro ball,” Jim McGothen told me.

“I still have an old Willie Stargell mitt I got from an older kid in the neighborhood,” Joseph Coates told me.

Phil Roy, a high school classmate of mine, has his first glove from his first year of Miller Little League for his team, Shepard Elevator, in 1970.

“I didn’t have a glove, so I had to borrow one from my uncle. It was my grandfather’s glove,” Roy said.

Chris Murawski pointed out a sad fact.

“There was more 'pick up ball' at the parks back in the day, so mitts would be used a lot more and mean something,” he said.

I wondered if sports equipment means as much to today’s kids as it did to older generations. It can be a major expenditure for cash-strapped parents. I searched online for new baseball gloves and many are selling for $300 or more. I couldn’t believe it. But I was happy to see some of those mitts are bright blue, just like my first one.

Something is generational about baseball. It’s woven into our lives like stitching on a ball.

“If Rip Van Winkle fell asleep in 1919 and woke up in 2019, baseball may be the only thing he understands,” my cousin Bob Webster once told me. “He could watch a game and pretty much know what’s going on.”

“Just about everyone during their childhood played some type of baseball. It seems to somehow be in everyone’s DNA."

My 5-year-old grandson, Landon, who plays in a T-ball league, went shopping for his first glove earlier this summer. It's bright blue. He walked out of the store with a swagger. I could only smile.