2 Hand in Glove

CHAPTER 2 HAND IN GLOVE This year I'm ready. I've been practicing. I play catch with Tailspin. I practice batting with a broom. I'll be able to sweep the bases, but I need a new mitt. Rigor mortis has set in my old one. CATCH! ARF!

I ask Mom. I plead. I beg. She says okay, but I have to cut the lawn all year to pay for it. I say okay. I'm desperate. We get in the van and drive to Sports World. They have all sorts of gloves lined up in a leather parade. There are all kinds. Ones with one finger, ones with two fingers, ones with three fingers. I want one with five fingers. I need all the help I can get! WOW!

If the store had one with ten fingers, I'd get it. The bigger— the better. But they're all about the size of an apple pie. Some are signed by famous players. Others are just signed by a guy named Wilson. Never heard of him. We finally find one that fits my hand and mom's pocketbook. I now have a new glove. It's like coming home with a new pet. It even smells like an animal. HOW'S THIS ONE, MOM? NO, HUBIE, THAT'S TOO BIG FOR YOUR TINY HAND. WHAT SMELLS? A LOT

The first thing I do is oil it and wrap it around a ball. Then I set it on my dresser overnight. We're going to be great friends. We're going to do great things. We're going to work together hand in glove. I fall asleep dreaming about my new baseball career. MVP