I’ve been playing baseball ever since I could pick up a bat. Since then, I’ve been to countless practices and played in hundreds of games. Baseball is essentially a second life, and if you were to step into my room, for example, you’d see a childhood baseball bat leaning against my nightstand, several baseballs on my dresser and scattered on the floor, and a picture of Wrigley Field displayed on my wall. I spent most of my summer travelling across the Southeast playing in tournaments in Atlanta, Charleston, and Raleigh, where I was able to experience playing against very talented players in front of several college coaches. These tournaments have given me some of the greatest experiences of my life, and really reflect just why and how much I love baseball.
I’m a catcher, or the guy who sits behind home plate the whole game acting quite literally as a meatshield, soaking up any stray fastballs that would’ve otherwise made their way to another zip code; you have to be a little crazy to like being a catcher. Being a catcher has its perks …show more content…
He obviously doesn’t need any catcher's gear to lug around with him through Spain, so he was kind enough to lend me his glove: a visibly worn and dirty tan leather glove that had a few loose strings that would have been better off being tightened. It was well broken-in when I got it, and it had seam marks in the pocket where you could tell a baseball that had been travelling at 90 miles an hour was caught. It was rough and worn, but I instantly liked it. I don’t mean to give the impression that the glove is comparable to that of a torn up piece of leather, it is indeed a very nice glove that is capable of catching even the fastest of fastballs. At one point, it was the kind of flashy glove that made other players look at it the way a kid may look at a present underneath a christmas tree on christmas
I’m a catcher, or the guy who sits behind home plate the whole game acting quite literally as a meatshield, soaking up any stray fastballs that would’ve otherwise made their way to another zip code; you have to be a little crazy to like being a catcher. Being a catcher has its perks …show more content…
He obviously doesn’t need any catcher's gear to lug around with him through Spain, so he was kind enough to lend me his glove: a visibly worn and dirty tan leather glove that had a few loose strings that would have been better off being tightened. It was well broken-in when I got it, and it had seam marks in the pocket where you could tell a baseball that had been travelling at 90 miles an hour was caught. It was rough and worn, but I instantly liked it. I don’t mean to give the impression that the glove is comparable to that of a torn up piece of leather, it is indeed a very nice glove that is capable of catching even the fastest of fastballs. At one point, it was the kind of flashy glove that made other players look at it the way a kid may look at a present underneath a christmas tree on christmas