Baseball Glove

Tony Sacca, whose easygoing demeanor used to drive Penn State coach Joe Paterno crazy, was tighter than a spiral on a well-thrown football. He just couldn't take it anymore. The 6-foot-5, 230-pound quarterback could take a pounding from the Miami defense, the Notre Dame defense, any defense. But not this. Not this angst of waiting out the National Football League draft. So when ESPN ended its live draft coverage at 4:30 yesterday afternoon and cut to the America's Cup, Sacca lifted his hulking body from the floor in the recreation room of his family's modest home in Delran and moaned.

There's an old baseball glove - two old baseball gloves, in fact - already on the premises. One of them has frayed laces, cracked leather, stuffing falling out. The other one's worse than that. The other one is flat as a pancake, pale as sand. The other one is named for a guy - you can barely see the name, the palm is worn to nothingness - who used to be an all-star, who's now well past 60. Rule of thumb? You can't play your best with a 60-year-old's name on your hand. Time for a change.

It has been with him since 1981. When he wasn't wearing it, it was in the trunk of his car, ready at a moment's notice. It's part of him now, part of his past, part of who he is. So it's no wonder that my husband is having a crisis because it's time to get a new one, time to put his 20-year-old baseball glove to rest. He had an easier time turning 40. He took that in stride, smiling at the wisecracks from friends and family and never getting caught up in melancholy reflection or the panic of midlife.

Before my athletic career was forced upon me, I was not remotely interested in sports. My dad, however, was determined. Having no sons, he was intent on all of his three girls becoming star athletes. Imagine my enthusiasm one second-grade evening when my dad came home with a brand new baseball glove that "had my name written all over it. " It was stiff, hard and complex-looking, with little leather strings tied all over it. We would mold it, he said, and make the leather nice and soft, just like his. That night, Daddy showed me how to break in my new mitt.

Deni Allen knew just how to play St. Louis Cardinals slugger Mark McGwire - by lurking just inside a left-field concourse tunnel in Busch Stadium. Allen, 22, sneaked two seating sections from where he was sitting with his grandparents and evaded a strong contingent of security personnel before fighting off a scrum of other fans to catch the baseball McGwire yesterday smacked 381 feet into the left-field stands for his 60th home run. "I took a few punches, a few kicks, and then knocked a few hands away.

HE IS: Garry Maddox. HE DOES: Importing; was a former baseball player. HE SUCCEEDS: Because he hasn't looked back. Garry Maddox remembers that moment - when instead of playing on the baseball field, he was lying in a hospital bed, facing back surgery a second time and contemplating what to do now. What the former Philadelphia Phillies outfielder eventually did was hang up his baseball glove and pick up a brief case. Five years later, he is the owner of World Wide Concessions, a novelty importing business, and he is the Greater Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce's newly appointed member of the Philadelphia Foundation of Managers.

While little Tyree Hand frolicked with neighborhood friends yesterday on a day that was more summer than spring, the woman who allegedly abducted him Sunday near his North Philadelphia home and took him to Atlantic City was downtown before a U.S. magistrate, charged in his kidnapping. Verna Session, who is 40 and homeless, coughed loudly as the hearing before U.S. Magistrate Judge Carol Sandra Moore Wells got under way, prompting the judge to ask if Session, who had a leg wound, had health problems.

Walk inside and jet back to the 1950s, when everything had a chrome finish, T-Birds ruled the roadways, and Elvis Presley ruled the jukebox. "It's like 'Leave It to Beaver' Land," said Brenda Kirk, who is the only female hairdresser in Lou DeLuca's Barber Shop in Berwyn. The chrome may have faded. The haircuts have changed. But the barbershop is still the same - except for the Elvis songs. Nowadays, it's all talk, DeLuca said. The Eagles, hunting, cars and, well, girls, are among the daily topics of conversation inside the 37-year-old Berwyn Shop.

Yes! He's back on national TV. Marv Albert, abruptly fired by NBC in September 1997 after his court case involving kinky sex with a former lover, will call tonight's Los Angeles Lakers-Phoenix Suns game on TNT (8 o'clock). The Indiana-Sixers game on April 16 is one of Albert's TNT assignments. Following time off, Albert has been broadcasting New York Knicks games on radio. He also has been hosting a nightly sports show on New York's MSG Network. During a TNT conference call Wednesday with Albert and his game partner, Reggie Theus, the first question was whether Albert was growing tired of talking about his return to broadcasting.

If you see enough movies, you get to the point where everything you see, you've seen before. A case in point: Last week we had "Stealing Home," a film about a boy, baseball and death. And here we have "The Wizard of Loneliness," a film about a boy, death and, in a way, baseball. Fortunately, the resemblance ends there. Where "Stealing Home" was simple-minded and obvious, "The Wizard of Loneliness" is of a different order - a work of care, insight and genuine feeling. Set in 1944, "The Wizard of Loneliness" concerns a solemn, precocious 12- year-old named Wendall (Lukas Haas, from "Witness" and "Testament")

In center field, No. 33 is cracking jokes with his leftfielder - a former minor-leaguer - in their native Dominican Spanish. Not that Wander Nu?ez isn't into the game; it just comes so easily to him. The next pitch is a single up the middle, and Nu?ez fields it cleanly in the rough grass, then throws a strike to third base to keep the runner at first from getting that far. At the plate, in his second at-bat, the 19-year-old is fooled...

While little Tyree Hand frolicked with neighborhood friends yesterday on a day that was more summer than spring, the woman who allegedly abducted him Sunday near his North Philadelphia home and took him to Atlantic City was downtown before a U.S. magistrate, charged in his kidnapping. Verna Session, who is 40 and homeless, coughed loudly as the hearing before U.S. Magistrate Judge Carol Sandra Moore Wells got under way, prompting the judge to ask if Session, who had a leg wound, had health problems.

It has been with him since 1981. When he wasn't wearing it, it was in the trunk of his car, ready at a moment's notice. It's part of him now, part of his past, part of who he is. So it's no wonder that my husband is having a crisis because it's time to get a new one, time to put his 20-year-old baseball glove to rest. He had an easier time turning 40. He took that in stride, smiling at the wisecracks from friends and family and never getting caught up in melancholy reflection or the panic of midlife.

Before my athletic career was forced upon me, I was not remotely interested in sports. My dad, however, was determined. Having no sons, he was intent on all of his three girls becoming star athletes. Imagine my enthusiasm one second-grade evening when my dad came home with a brand new baseball glove that "had my name written all over it. " It was stiff, hard and complex-looking, with little leather strings tied all over it. We would mold it, he said, and make the leather nice and soft, just like his. That night, Daddy showed me how to break in my new mitt.

The notion that the greatest hockey player God ever created needed to practice the day before his history-making 21-year career concluded seemed just a little absurd. But at precisely 11 a.m. yesterday, Wayne Gretzky, wearing a red uniform, striped skates, and a satisfied but slightly sad smile, walked out of the tiny locker room at the Playland Ice Casino for one last workout. Angular, pale, and looking more like an innocent junior player than a retiring 38-year-old superstar, Gretzky shook hands with friends and posed for pictures with their children.

Yes! He's back on national TV. Marv Albert, abruptly fired by NBC in September 1997 after his court case involving kinky sex with a former lover, will call tonight's Los Angeles Lakers-Phoenix Suns game on TNT (8 o'clock). The Indiana-Sixers game on April 16 is one of Albert's TNT assignments. Following time off, Albert has been broadcasting New York Knicks games on radio. He also has been hosting a nightly sports show on New York's MSG Network. During a TNT conference call Wednesday with Albert and his game partner, Reggie Theus, the first question was whether Albert was growing tired of talking about his return to broadcasting.

Walk inside and jet back to the 1950s, when everything had a chrome finish, T-Birds ruled the roadways, and Elvis Presley ruled the jukebox. "It's like 'Leave It to Beaver' Land," said Brenda Kirk, who is the only female hairdresser in Lou DeLuca's Barber Shop in Berwyn. The chrome may have faded. The haircuts have changed. But the barbershop is still the same - except for the Elvis songs. Nowadays, it's all talk, DeLuca said. The Eagles, hunting, cars and, well, girls, are among the daily topics of conversation inside the 37-year-old Berwyn Shop.

Walk inside and jet back to the 1950s, when everything had a chrome finish, T-Birds ruled the roadways, and Elvis Presley ruled the jukebox. "It's like 'Leave It to Beaver' Land," said Brenda Kirk, who is the only female hairdresser in Lou DeLuca's Barber Shop in Berwyn. The chrome may have faded. The haircuts have changed. But the barbershop is still the same - except for the Elvis songs. Nowadays, it's all talk, DeLuca said. The Eagles, hunting, cars and, well, girls, are among the daily topics of conversation inside the 37-year-old Berwyn Shop.

Deni Allen knew just how to play St. Louis Cardinals slugger Mark McGwire - by lurking just inside a left-field concourse tunnel in Busch Stadium. Allen, 22, sneaked two seating sections from where he was sitting with his grandparents and evaded a strong contingent of security personnel before fighting off a scrum of other fans to catch the baseball McGwire yesterday smacked 381 feet into the left-field stands for his 60th home run. "I took a few punches, a few kicks, and then knocked a few hands away.

In retrospect, maybe Bill Flynn's family shouldn't have been surprised that the line at the McCann Funeral Home in Gloucester City consistently stretched around the street corner Monday evening. Maybe they shouldn't have been surprised that they accepted hugs and condolences a good hour after the viewing was supposed to end. And maybe Dick Sheldon shouldn't have been surprised that fellow pallbearer Bob Bevan, a man whose singing talents were unbeknownst to many, delivered a beautiful hymn during the funeral at St. Mary's Roman Catholic Church yesterday.