My Dad’s Ancient Glove
By Unknown Author
When my father was a kid, he was very much like I
am now- a somewhat tall, skinny kid who enjoyed playing every sport and being
active all the time. One of my dad's favorite sports was baseball. He loved the
game, and spent every waking moment thinking about it. He was an excellent
pitcher (so he says!) but was capable of playing any position you asked him to.
As long as he was out on the field playing the game he so much adored, it didn’t
matter to him where he was on the diamond.
His father was a very busy man who never seemed to find the time for his son. Whenever my dad asked him to go throw a ball around in the yard, my grandfather didn’t have the time. But one day, my father received what he thought was the most amazing gift ever- his father’s old baseball glove. It was an old mitt, but my father loved that glove with all his heart and never went anywhere without it. Eventually, he passed that glove on down to me, so I could adore it as much as he once did.
Yet, one day, I almost lost the one item that meant a lot to my father. I brought the mitt down to the field where my sister was playing a softball game so that my dad and I could practice between innings. Sometime during the game, I had taken off the glove to play basketball with some kids at the small basketball court at Allen Park, and just left it there in the middle of the court when the softball game finished. Later, when I got home, I realized I had lost the glove but didn’t remember where I had left it. I began crying hysterically because losing it would upset and disappoint my father. Then, the next day after school, I finally remembered where I had placed the glove and rushed home to tell my mom to take me down to Allen Park to retrieve it. Luckily, when I got there, the glove was still in the exact place that I had left it. Perhaps because it was old and broken down, no one took it, yet to me I was so greatly relieved. From then on, I was very careful every time I left the house with the glove. I still cherish the glove and have it safely tucked away at home so that someday I could pass it on down to my own son. That is the great game of baseball; it can lovingly be passed down from generation to generation.