Just a Game

When I turned fourteen my mother took me to the local Hill Sports sporting goods store.  She told me that I could pick out whatever baseball mitt I wanted, and my eyes immediately shot to the top shelf where all of the most expensive baseball mitts were on display.  I had been researching the best leathers, styles, and sizes of mitts for a few weeks and I knew the exact one I wanted the moment my gaze landed on it. The Nokona AMG 1150, a.k.a. " The  American Glove".  Not daring to take any of the tags off for a few weeks, I began to break in the mitt exactly how I wanted it to work.  I drilled a hole into an old baseball and stuck the longest screwdriver my dad had right into it so that I could start pounding and softening the leather.  I had the nicest glove leather conditioner I could find and spread the sweet smelling ointment over ever bit of the surface of the glove.  Next, I would place two baseballs in a specific spot and let it sit all night.  In the morning I would w