This was a gift for my uncle. He and his wife very kindly let me stay with them and their two young boys whenever I visit the states. I’m often introduced to the family’s friends and acquaintances. At one fateful little league game I was trying to help tidy up and noticed that a catcher’s mitt had been left unattended. In an attempt to prevent it from being stolen I picked it up to bring it over to the dugout to find out who it belonged to. At this point its owner rushed forward and accosted me. He proceeded to enlighten me about the ways of the American people, to which I was more alien than I knew. I was frantically informed that the mitt was older than I was. He admitted that he was ignorant with regards to how things were done wherever I was from, but that I should remember where I was and that there are certain things that I must never do. Principal among these was “This is America, son. You never touch another man’s mitt.” I have based every subsequent choice I have made on these sage-like words. So enlightened was I, that I thought they belonged on a t-shirt.
The colours are roughly those of the New York Mets, a favourite team of my little cousins.