Thomas was enthralled by the prospect of playing ball again. He hadn’t played baseball since he was a teenager. He found his old practice baseball and first baseman’s glove in his closet and dug around in his things until he uncovered an ancient can of Neatsfoot oil that had been tightly sealed in a quart-sized Mason jar since he last used it. He opened the can with no small measure of distrust and tipped the can to pour a tiny amount of oil into the palm of his hand. Frankly, Thomas didn’t expect anything to come out of the can. Twenty years should have turned the contents into a thick coating of heavy varnish at the bottom of the can.
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