Glove Love

Our co-ed softball team, the Sunday Salooners, finally shut down this year.  After seven straight championships (Tom Emanski AIN'T GOT SHIT ON US!) and more free championship t-shirts courtesy of the Parks & Rec department than I could possibly wear, the team finally fell broke apart.  Jud moved to Chicago, James had a kid and started wavering on whether or not he wanted to play, Schulz took a summer internship, I reacted to Jud leaving like Toni Kukoc did when Michael Jordan announced his first retirement, some other teammates sorta followed my attitude, and that was pretty much that for the Salooners.  Really, half the enjoyment I derived from being on a softball team was knowing that no matter what time we played, be it 6 pm, 9 pm, or anywhere in between, Jud and I would be at the ballyard promptly at 5:15 for "advanced scouting" (read: aggressively drinking beers while listening to 90's hip-hop and heckling whatever teams happened to be playing at the time.)

However, with the possibility of the Salooners starting up again in the future looking pretty slim, I've found a nice silver lining:  I officially used one (ONE!) baseball glove for my entire life.  My parents got it for me in 1987. It survived tee ball, Parkboard, Bambino, Babe Ruth, got a nice break where its only action was random games of "baseball catch" (which consisted mostly of Russell and I "accidentally" throwing the ball into Nikki's yard across the street since she was suntanning semi-topless) then resumed regular duty with these last seven years of softball. 

And my glove was still going strong the whole time; if there was a Gold Glove award for our softball league, I would've won it for first base, no question.  Mother fuckin' J.T. Snow and shit.

Should I have referenced Keith Hernandez there?  I feel like you guys would take it as a Seinfeld reference, not a "Keith Hernandez won 11 straight Gold Gloves back in the day" reference.  Then again, how many of you know who J.T. Snow is?  Maybe I over-analyze these things.

And sure, there was the one time in 2006 when I almost cost our team a win when a routine fly ball basically exploded a hole through my glove and allowed two runs to score....and the time in 2009 where (playing first base) I took a hard throw from shortstop, caught it in my palm, and my hand bruised all the way through so I had a lump on the back of my hand.....and the dozens of jokes at my expense about how I was still wearing a glove made for elementary schoolers from everyone on the team (even the girls ripped on me).....but what I'll mainly remember are the good times.

And Nikki suntanning.