What do a perennial all-star outfielder from the Dominican Republic, a first baseman with twelve letters in his last name, a veteran outfielder who plays for his dad and pees on his hands, and an outfielder named after a breakfast cereal all have in common? They all have money, fame, and fortune, in addition to their super human athleticism and incredible talent. More importantly, they symbolize four members of a unique baseball clique that seems to be shrinking by the day; a dying breed of ballplayer that prefers their tobacco unflavored, and their uniform left unwashed. The accolades needed to belong are not signified by home runs or RBI’s; but rather by blood blisters, calluses, and swollen fingers. Members of this group include Doug Mirabelli, Craig Counsell, Vladimir Guerrero, Doug Mientkiewicz, Moisus Alou, Jorge Posada, John Mabry, Bobby Kielty, and Coco Crisp. They all share an unspoken brotherhood - none of these nine men wear batting gloves.
First introduced by Bobby Thomson in spring training in 1949, batting gloves burst onto the major league scene in 1964 when Ken Harrelson of the Kansas City Athletics donned them. Designed to give players better grip on the bat while avoiding the painful calluses and blisters that naturally arise from swinging, batting gloves have evolved from a style originally designed for golf, to highly technical hand accessories. They have become essential to players of all ages, and come in every variety of color, and size.
The reasons that these nine particular players choose not to jump on the bandwagon vary man to man. Craig Counsell learned the practice from veteran teammate Mark Grace, while Moisus Alou uses urine to protect his hands rather than wear batting gloves. Some players do it to look tough, while others just never had them around as kids. In Coco Crisp’s case, batting gloves just never appealed to him, and simply are uncomfortable and unneeded.
However, with the growing popularity of batting gloves, sweat bands, Lance Armstrong wrist bracelets, shin guards, elbow pads, body armor, sun glasses, titanium necklaces, “breath-right” nasal strips, face masks and mouth guards, hitters today look more like characters from Transformers than ball players. In fact, any player who doesn’t accessorize sticks out from the rest. Stroll down to your local little league field and take a look for yourself; nearly every kid you see will have miniaturized batting gloves, wristbands, or some other doodad that is “corporation guaranteed” to help them achieve greater success on the field.
Yet, in an era where baseball has been irrevocably tarnished by steroids, bloated contracts, and expansion teams, it is important that the sport salvage some shred of the mystique and aura that have made it America’s favorite pastime. The overuse of these types of “sports accessories” is moving baseball closer to popular culture and farther from the pure game it was so many years ago. For every major leaguer who dons these accessories, hundreds of kids will do the same, thus perpetuating the transformation of baseball from a recreational sport into a sport personified by consumerism and fashion.
Not all wholesomeness has vanished from the game Alexander Cartwright envisioned in 1845. What remains is symbolized in the image of these nine men, stalking up to the plate, their hands as naked as they would have been when the first pitch was thrown in the 19th century. And while their actual intention for batting barehanded has little to do with this greater cause, their fight is a noble one. If nothing else, they are unique and headstrong; ignoring the constant media blitz prodding them to buy, accessorize, and be cool. These barehanded hitters represent a time in the game that is vanishing as the years slide by.
Sometimes less is more. More glove-less heroes won’t necessarily bring back integrity to the game we love so dearly, but it’s a start.
This is from four years ago
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