Last Sunday after dinner, Travis asked me if I wanted to have a "reverent catch" with him. ("Reverent" means that whatever we're playing we must wear flip flops and can't break a sweat.) He had even brought his glove (a back-up A2000 he used in little league because he couldn't find his first-string A2000) in anticipation of a quiet Sunday game of catch with his dad. I couldn't refuse. Plus, I knew exactly where my softball gear bag was located in the closet.
As the evening light mellowed out the slightly clouded sky, we threw and talked for about 45 minutes, although it's hard to say for sure just how long we were out there. I had had a busy Sunday and was feeling tense, almost as if I were still in a suit and tie, but I found that loosening up my arm started to get other things loosened up for me as well.
I'm not going to claim that we had anything Zen-like going on out there or that we were engaging in some self-satisfying Freudian for-da game or that Shoeless Joe Jackson was about to pop out of a cornfield we don't have, but I am going to affirm that throwing with Travis was truly, deeply relaxing. I could feel my body's muscle memories awaken as we fell into the easy rhythm of catch and throw, catch and throw.
My Rawlings softball glove cost me $50 in 1975, the summer Kate was born. Our rent was $165, so that glove what quite a serious investment for our young family. I don't know what it would cost now in 2008 dollars, but I do know that it can't be replaced at any price. It's a Joe Rudi model, named after the A's left fielder from the championship Reggie Jackson days in Oakland, which made me, a life-long Angels fan, feel somewhat like a turncoat for a while. It has a beautiful combination of light and dark leather, with a special "bellows" web perfect for catching softballs. I've always kept it well-repaired and oiled. It's so soft that it practically catches the ball all by itself.
My glove has served me well over many softball seasons. That first year, our ward, the Placentia 2nd Ward, won the stake championship, a big deal in those days of full ward uniforms and regional and area playoffs. I still have the trophy. I batted over .400 and hit my first and only home run the day after Kate was born because my line drive hit the gap in right center perfectly and I beat the throw to the plate. In the championship game I caught a deep fly ball right at the fence for the third out of a late inning with two men on base.
Monday evening Travis had his first double-header with the city league team he, in his own words, "begged" himself onto. Delys and I walked over to the ballpark from their house with Heidi and Luke to watch him play. For some reason, he still hadn't been able to find his best glove.
Can you guess whose glove he borrowed?
3 comments:
I have to admit I kind of teared up with this post. Maybe it's the memories of watching you play softball or better understanding the "luck" a new baby can bring. Most of all it's that nothing makes me feel more tender hearted than the boys in my life. And when they're just being with each other-playing catch, reading bedtime stories-nothing makes me, even as an outsider to that moment, feel happier.
I borrowed your glove alright!
I sucks up softballs like vacuum.
I hope the tradition of reverent catch continue for many Sundays. I can't wait to watch all my boys being reverent outside with their Grandpa, and his glove.
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