Look around the house. You’ll find a baseball. You’ll pick it up, it’s irresistible. You then should go play catch, an act of connection so simple and so lasting that if Congress had Yogi Berra’s wisdom it would enact a law declaring: “On sunny days in February when pitchers and catchers have reported, you will go outdoors with a loved one and play catch until the ol’ soup bone goes limp.”
The Yale University professor of physics Robert K. Adair further defined a baseball’s ingredients: “The cork nucleus, enclosed in rubber, is wound with 121 yards of blue-gray wool yam, 45 yards of white wool yarn, and 150 yards of the cotton yam. Core and winding are enclosed by rubber cement and a two-piece cowhide cover hand-stitched together with just 216 raised red cotton stitches.”
The stitchings are done with two threads, each 44 inches long.
About a baseball.
The Atlanta baseball writer Patty Rasmussen: “When I was first falling in love with baseball, in 1988 in the Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, I went to the wall that held all the no-hitter balls. All these baseballs, none of them yielding a hit. I was struck by the number of them-and then I thought about how many other baseballs had …