Dead Cows Need Proper Skin Care Too

Here's another thing (besides an intrinsic lack of ability) that makes it harder to play softball:

When your glove dry rots and crumbles into dust.

It turns out that when you leave your glove sitting in a box in the garage for sixteen years, it dries out. And when you try to pull it out and use it one day, the shock is just too much for it, and it copes by reducing itself to black leather confetti EVERYWHERE.

I've completely lost the top layer of my glove. It used to be it's just suede. When asked what happened to it, I explain that the cow it was made from had leprosy. (I like to watch how quickly people back up after that).

"Oil it" Tony says when I complain about the black dust that was once my glove.

I wander to the pantry. "Peanut, Vegetable or Olive?" I yell back.

"GLOVE oil!" He yells, a little louder than necessary. He comes in and takes my glove away.

Apparently I'm not responsible enough for glove ownership yet.