Ronnie Moore - I'd Glove to Find You

When I find Ronnie Moore it'll be a memorable day for each of us.

I'm in possession of a valuable piece of Mr. Moore's personal property - his baseball glove.

As an avid antiques collector and long-time baseball fan I was in the process of decorating my young son's bedroom with vintage baseball equipment when I found the glove in an antique shop in Hayward in 2004.

While cleaning the glove I noticed the name Ronnie Moore - Garnavillo, Iowa written in ink on the wrist strap. I hung the glove on the wall with the strap facing outward and each time I looked at it I wondered how Mr. Moore and his glove became separated. I also wondered about the stories he might tell if the glove was returned to him.

Even after twenty-some address changes throughout my life I've managed to keep track of my old baseball gloves. Each glove frames a tiny window of time from my childhood.

My first glove, a seven-inch New Port came from Link's in Minong. I'm sure living in isolated confines small-town, northern Wisconsin in 1974 made it difficult for my mother to find any baseball gloves and even harder finding one for a lefty.

In anticipation of the upcoming pee-wee league season that year, I used a roll of masking tape to decorate a t-shirt to look like a baseball uniform. When she saw my creation my sister reminded me I didn't even own a glove.

For several seasons the New Port was my trusty mitt - until I made an error that lost the game for my Spooner Little League team. From the stands I heard a parent say "that kid needs a bigger glove".

Years later I nearly lost the little glove when it was stolen by a neighborhood kid. I saw it hanging from the handlebars of his bicycle as he rode through the neighborhood. When he left his bike and the glove unattended I took it back. He'd scribbled over my name and wrote his on it. A black blotch still remains where I covered over his name with a permanent marker.

A bigger glove arrived as a birthday present in October 1977. A photograph from the party at my grandparents' house shows my satisfied look as I unwrapped the gift.

The next morning my brother and I played catch in the frosty air of a Lake Superior morning. We stood as far apart as we could throw and began heaving the ball back and forth without first warming up our arms. The following morning our family went to an orchard to pick apples, but I was unable help because I couldn't lift my left arm away from my side.

Unfortunately, due to it's large size and misshapen fit (I flattened it under a mattress to "break it in") the glove was uncomfortable and never worked well.

Sometime after that my great-grandma gave me a glove she found at a flea market in Park Falls. It was slightly larger than the little New Port, but lucky for me it was a first baseman's mitt and I mostly played first base.

In 1980 I got my favorite glove, a Rawlings "Fastback" at The Sports Page sporting goods store in Rice Lake. I'd tried on the glove numerous times over the summer, but at $32.00 I never considered buying it.

Then one day it was marked 50 percent off. I relentlessly informed my mom it was "a steal" and that I had to have it. Later that evening she came home with the glove, but was unsure if it was the one I wanted because it didn't say "steal" anywhere on it. She assumed by the fuss I made that "steal" was a brand name or a feature of the glove.

The Fastback got me through the remainder of Little League and all my Babe Ruth, Parks and Recreation league and high school baseball years. It's been rained on a few times, the inner lining is rotted and many of the broken laces are simply knotted back together.

My gloves are an enjoyable reminder of my childhood and my love of baseball. I'd regret losing them. I'd like to know if Ronnie Moore feels the same about his glove.

Last fall I attempted to find Mr. Moore.

With Garnavillo's small population of 686 (one resident shy of being perfectly divided between male and female) I figured a couple of phone calls is all it would take to reach Ronnie. A Google search found an elderly woman with the last name Moore who lives in the tiny town.

Mrs. Moore, a life-long Garnavillo resident, was unfamiliar with Ronnie and believed her family were the only Moores in the area. She apologized for not being able to help, but was interested in how my search turned out.

Another computer search provided me with five Ronald Moores with Iowa addresses, but only one had an active phone number. He was not the Mr. Moore I'm looking for. Like Mrs. Moore, he also asked me to let him know if I find Ronnie.

I stopped searching for several months, but kept the glove near my computer. Yesterday I began calling around again and managed to speak with a retired Iowa police chief. He offered to assist me by starting a background check of any Ronald Moore with a link to Garnavillo. If the chief's research is unsuccessful there are a few more options available to generate leads.

Until then the glove sits on a shelf waiting for the day I find Ronnie Moore.