Farmers Weekly Review

By Nick Reiher

Put on the glove. Push your hand tightly into the fingers, leaving the forefinger out.

Smell the leather, either freshly tanned or reeking of sweat, oil, grass and dirt. Or somewhere in between.

Remember those miraculous catches you made, running full-out in centerfield, or snagging a line drive in the webbing, stretched parallel to the turf while guarding third base.

Pick up a ball. Move your fingers around the stitches – four-seamer, two-seamer, curve. That last one, you taught yourself at age 10 or 11 and threw constantly to the amazement of your friends who hadn’t picked up the science yet. And ruined your arm for years to come.

If only Maddux had crossed-up his catcher in ’89 and threw Will Clark one of his mysterious change-ups. We might not have had to wait until 2016 for a World Series appearance. Glove webbing since has become where pitchers and catchers keep their secrets on the mound.

Throw the ball into the glove. If it lands in the webbing, the sweet spot, you remember those magical snags. If it lands in the pocket – the even sweeter spot – you feel the sting of so many line drives you didn’t have time to think about as you saved face … and other body parts.

Repeat 20 or 30 times. Or until a family member tells you the noise is driving them nuts. Do another 10.

There a bat in the corner of your room. Not the flying kind. A true baseball bat. Wooden. 32-inch, 32-ounces. Hillerich & Bradsby. It’s really the only brand. There was that Adirondack, but it never felt quite right, especially replacing a broken H&B Roberto Clemente model that cracked … and broke your heart.

But the George Brett H&B bat your friend bought you in the fateful summer of ’84 comes pretty close, even if it’s used only to swing from time to time; not on the field.

Every time you pick it up, the memories fall out. Line up your knuckles on the grip. Take a couple of abbreviated cuts. Then, do the full stance, copying Santo.

Then, maybe a couple of Stargell windmill warmups. Just like you did in high school when you took George’s softball pitch in gym and put it over the head of the centerfielder wondering how the hell a skinny kid not much bigger than the bat put it over his head for a home run.

Baseball has changed a lot in the last 50 years, especially in the last five or so. People’s attention spans can’t handle 3 ½-hour games, fostered by guys like Mike Hargrove, “The Human Rain Delay,” christened for his elaborate rituals after each pitch.

Or seemingly innumerable throws over to first to keep a runner close.

For those sins, we have major changes, including the “Ghost Runner” on second base to start the 10^th Inning. This shouldn’t have been allowed in the college ranks, let alone the professional game.

This is not a “by crackey” moment from an old warhorse. It is stupid for anyone over age 12, and I apologize to those kids as well.

Our Chicago teams haven’t done well lately. But soon, the first pitch of the real season will be thrown.

Like a new cast on the water seeking a bite, or a seed planted in spring, there always is new hope at the beginning of a new season.

And if you do it right, you can immerse yourself in a game that you played many years ago, and become one with the players on the field, remembering the feelings, the smells and the stings.

Here’s to 162 chances for new memories.

Nick Reiher is editor of Farmers Weekly Review.