About

It seemed a simple, rectangular box, wrapped in festive paper, waiting for my small hands to tear into it. A shoebox, actually, though even after I managed to strip all the paper off, I could sense that it concealed something other than a mundane pair of shoes. But even the creative juices of my nine-year-old brain did not predict the breathtaking gift that awaited me within that cardboard container.

My dad gave me my first baseball glove for Christmas in 1993. Military duty had called him across the Pacific to Okinawa, and my first mitt traveled that distance halfway around the world to position itself under our tree in Camp Pendleton, California. I inspected that glove dozens upon dozens of times until I outgrew it. The brown leather, the professional red-and-white stitching of the Rawlings “R” just below the web, a replica of Ken Griffey, Jr.’s signature printed in the palm. I frequently tugged at the small leather knots sprinkled over the mitt, ensuring that they were good and tight.

My younger brother received an identical glove that year, and to ensure the avoidance of quarreling ahead of time, Dad had inscribed each of our names along the thumbs of our respective gloves. When I close my eyes, I can still see “Precious” carefully printed along the edge of my glove with a thin sharpie in his small but neat handwriting.

Though I had never owned a glove before, I was no stranger to the great game of baseball. Our older brother was (and still is) a San Diego Padres fanatic, and had we lived in California much longer than we did, I have no doubt that I’d be rooting for the Padres today as well. I grew up to the names Tony Gwynn, Fred McGriff, and Gary Sheffield. We spun jokes about Mike Piazza delivering home runs like pizza. Our backyard baseball games had been played using tennis balls and the handle of a plastic toy vacuum, which we broke off. Finally, though, I found myself the proud owner of a “real” piece of baseball equipment. It was the glove I used to play Little League.

When I created The Baseball Attic in March 2013, I did so as a means of continuing to engage in my love for the American pastime. My fellowship with baseball has lasted (disturbingly?) longer than most relationships I’ve had with flesh-and-bone human beings. People come and go, romances flourish and fail, but through all that, this great game has remained a constant in my life. Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs; even the best of relationships don’t come without a little strife. But when you find yourselves repeatedly drawn back together during the most tumultuous of times, then you know it’s meant to be.


26 Comments on “About”

  1. mr.e says:

    Love your site, Precious! Keep up the great work! And thanks for visiting midnight gravy.
    ed

  2. willsports says:

    Nice posts. Keep up the work and thanks for visiting betweenthelineshockeyandbaseball (BTLHB)

  3. dodgycam says:

    Have y’all taken a listen to The Smartest man in the world podcast? Greg Proops. He is a massive baseball fan. As a Brit I only understand about one in three words he says, but you fellas will probably love it. As he says, may all your pages be Satchel Paiges.
    dC

  4. […] The birth of the Baseball Hall of Fame Precious Sanders – June 3, […]

  5. I nominated you for a Sunshine award. You don’t have to accept but I wanted to give you the recognition. ;-D

    • Wow… thank you very much! I honestly hadn’t heard of the Sunshine award before now, but from your post, it looks pretty cool. I’ll have to look it up some more and do a post of my own. I’m thrilled that you think so highly of my blog. Thank you again!

  6. steve says:

    Is there a place on line we can read your master’s thesis on line? I’m enjoying your blog.

    • Currently, no. It might be possible to upload it somewhere, though it was written in an older version of Word. When I get some free time, I’ll see if I can make it work. I appreciate the interest!

      • steve says:

        That would be great. Ya know, if you convert it into PDF, I think you can add it to a worpdress post or page. If I remember right, you just click add media. I hope the old Word version can be converted. Looking forward to reading it.

  7. seaangel4444 says:

    Hi Precious! Thanks for stopping by The Chicago Files! Great blog you have, by the way! Say, I did a post not too long ago about Wrigley Field! If you have time to take a peek, here it is: http://wp.me/p4doQv-iA Have a great day, dear! Cher xo

  8. So glad to have happened upon your blog – I’m a baseball fan(atic), and have been one since I was eight years old, when my grandpa took me to my first game. Looking forward to reading more!
    ~Audrey

  9. Thom Hickey says:

    Thanks very much for following The Immortal Jukebox. I hope you will enjoy lots of entertaining writing and the wide variety of music. I usually post once a week. Please feel free to add comments. If it’s been a while since you visited come on over and see what’s new! Good luck with your blog. Regards Thom.

  10. wkkortas says:

    So I’m wondering–when you were playing in the backyard, did your brother come up and in one you if you were crowding the plate? I hit my mom in the elbow playing wiffle ball once–she gave me alook, and I had to remind her that the inside half is mine, damnit.

    • Well, we were never that cruel to one another. My older brother was kind of the ruling force over a lot of games, and he got annoyed by anything that delayed continual action. So no intentionally hitting the batter, and if you hit it over the fence, we had a rule that the batter was out, rather than getting a homer, and they had to go chase the ball that they dared to hit so far.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s