Baseball? At least you had a leather glove to chew on. You lucky bastard.Nuances of wet leather triggers olfactory memories for me…. 7 years old, standing in center field, big lights in my eyes, praying, “dear Lord, please don’t let the ball get hit towards me,” and chewing on the straps and leather strings holding my glove together. That’s all I remember about baseball, long and boring, and chewing wet leather in the outfield. I still don’t care much about baseball these days.
Try playing cricket for an entire day. As a 7yo, stuck out on the boundary, a ball coming my way occasionally would have at least been a welcome distraction.
Despite that experience of sheer boredom and sunburn, it did not spoil my love for the great game of cricket, which is best appreciated from the comfort of ones home with a beer in one hand and a pipe in the other.
Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. And cricket players.