Sliding mitts are baseball's 'must-have,' even if at youth levels, they're all fashion, no function

PITTSBURGH (AP) — Andrew McCutchen hasn't had the conversation with 7-year-old son Steel yet, but the Pittsburgh Pirates star knows it's probably coming at some point.

Steel, already playing in a youth baseball league, will probably come home at one point and ask his five-time All-Star father if he can have whatever hot item his teammates might be wearing during a given spring.

McCutchen plans to accommodate Steel up to a point. The oldest of McCutchen’s four children is already rocking an arm sleeve, just the way dad does.

Yet if Steel is hoping his father will spring for a sliding mitt — a padded glove a player can slip over one of their hands to protect it should the hand get stepped on while diving headfirst for a base — he probably shouldn't get his hopes up.

McCutchen, who has stolen 220 bases at the major league level, has never worn one. And he's quick to point out the next time the cleat of a fielder mashes his hand will also be the first.

Still, the 38-year-old understands. Once upon a time, he was a 20-something who epitomized baseball cool, from his dreadlocks (long since shorn) to his goatee to his rope chain to the occasional skull cap he wore underneath his batting helmet, all of it designed to accentuate McCutchen's innate blend of talent and charisma.

“It's all about the drip,” McCutchen said with a smile.

Even if the “drip” (Gen Z slang for stylish clothes and their accessories) emphasizes fashion over function, particularly when it comes to the gloves — which look a bit like oven mitts — that are becoming just as ubiquitous in the Little Leagues as they are in the major leagues.

Former major leaguer Scott Podsednik (career stolen base total: 309) is credited with “inventing” the sliding mitt during the late stages of his 11-year career.

Tired of having his hand stepped on, Podsednik worked with a hand therapist for a solution. The initial mitts were relatively simple. A 2009 picture of Podsednik sliding into second base shows his left hand covered in what looks like a padded modified batting glove, all wrapped in black to match the trim on his Chicago White Sox uniform.

Things have gotten considerably more intricate over the years. Google “sliding mitt designs” and you'll find themes ranging from the American flag to an ice cream cone to aliens to a poop emoji ( yes, really ).

Scott McMillen, a lawyer in the Chicago area, had no plans to get into the baseball accessory business. He first took notice of sliding mitts when his son Braydon, then 10, pointed out one of his teammates had one and said basically, “Oh hey dad, wouldn't it be nice if I had one, too.”

They headed to a local sporting goods store, where McMillen was surprised at the variety available.

That was around 2021. By early 2024, McMillen had launched “ Goat'd,” a specialty baseball accessory company with everything from sliding mitts to batting gloves to arm sleeves to headbands and more, many of them religiously inspired.

Sales during their first full year? Over 1 million units.

“We were surprised at how large the marketplace is,” McMillen said.

Maybe he shouldn't have been.

Youth sports have bounced back from the COVID-19 pandemic. The Aspen Institute's 2024 State of Play report noted that the participation levels in sports among children ages 6-17 were the highest they’ve been since 2015. Baseball's numbers have steadied following a decline. Little League International told The Associated Press last fall that more than 2 million kids played baseball or softball under its umbrella across the world, an uptick over 2019.

Many of those kids are also fans of the game, some of whom may have noticed their favorite major leaguer sporting a mitt when they're on the bases. Yes, that was San Diego Padres star Fernando Tatis Jr. sliding across home plate ( feetfirst, by the way ) with a bright yellow mitt on his left hand in the ninth inning of a 2-1 win over Pittsburgh last weekend.

It's one of the many ways in which the game has evolved over the years. When McMillen grew up, there wasn't much swag to go around.

“We had our baseball uniform and our glove (and) everyone looked the same, everyone was the same,” he said. “Now, everyone wants to express themselves individually. The best way to do that without acting like a clown is to wear something that shows people who you are.”

Self-expression, however, doesn't exactly come cheap, particularly in an era when top-of-the-line bats are $400 or more. What amounts to an entry-level sliding mitt can go for $40, but Goat'd and others have versions that can fetch double that.

That hasn't stopped sales from being brisk, and McMillen points out it's not merely a luxury item.

“We don’t play football with 1940s safety equipment,” he said. “You feel better in the (batter's) box when you have something that protects you, right? With a sliding mitt, it's also like, ‘Hey this is fun. It’s cool. I want to be like my fave high school player, like my favorite college player.’”

It's becoming increasingly common for McMillen and other members of the company's staff to spot Goat'd gear at the field. In recent months, they've popped up in youth tournaments from Georgia to Las Vegas, sometimes in the back pockets of players as young as 6 or 7. McMillen can't help but shake his head to see his product become part of the time-honored tradition of kids imitating their heroes.

Which is good for business and, oh by the way, probably unnecessary.

Here's the thing: In most — if not all — youth baseball leagues, headfirst slides that would require a player to stretch out their hand to secure the bag are illegal.

In Little League, for example, stealing bases for players 12 and under is rare because the player can take off only after the ball has reached the batter. And even if they do bolt for the next base, they have to slide feetfirst. The only times in Little League that a baserunner can dive headfirst toward a base is when they are returning to it while in a rundown or during a pickoff attempt, both of which are also rare.

That doesn't stop the players from wanting a sliding mitt. It also doesn't stop their parents from buying them, all part of the pressure to “keep up with the Jones” that has practically been a part of youth sports culture since the first time somebody came to practice with a batting glove or wristbands.

It's a phenomenon Chelsea Cahill and her family has known for years. The longtime educator who lives just east of Columbus, Ohio, has spent most of the last decade shuttling her three boys from practice to games to tournaments.

What she and her husband have learned over the years is that some trends come and go, but the pressure to have the right stuff remains.

“There's always that feeling of ‘This is the next new thing' or ‘This is what you’ve got to get,’” Cahill said.

They appeased their sons up to a point, but only up to a point.

Last summer their youngest son Braxton, then 11, and the rest of the kids on his travel team kept pestering their parents to buy sliding mitts. Entering the final tournament, the team moms decided to give in.

Sort of.

Rather than plop down that kind of money for something they didn't actually need, the moms headed to a local dollar store and bought them actual oven mitts — the kind used to pull tonight's dinner from out of the oven. Average retail price? Less than a cup of coffee at the gas station.

Oh, and the kids loved them, and wore them during the game. Cahill posted video of them playing with the mitts stuck in their back pocket to her TikTok account. The video is now at 12 million views and counting.

“They thought it was hilarious, but we didn’t really think they would wear them for the rest of the tournament,” Cahill said. “We were wrong. They really embraced it!”

Among viewers of that TikTok, by the way, were the people at Goat'd, who sent Braxton a couple of mitts as a result.

The good news is, Cahill now won't have to buy one for Braxton this spring. Yet there's also something else she has learned through the years: This time in her boys' lives is fleeting.

For proof, just look at her calendar. Her two older sons — the ones who played travel baseball just like Braxton, and asked for all the cool stuff their teammates had, just like Braxton has — gave up baseball by the time they got to high school.

Her advice to parents who might be feeling the financial pinch of what it takes to play these days: Relax.

“We've learned as parents is to stop taking it so seriously,” she said. “They’re kids. Let them have fun.”

A day after hundreds of members of the Monroeville Baseball and Softball Association marched through the Pittsburgh suburb's well-appointed community park, the regular season is in full swing.

All four fields are alive with the chatter of coaches, parents and boys and girls aged anywhere from 5-12.

Over on Field 1, the Rays are in the middle of their season opener. Playing first base, Josiah Jones has his glove at the ready, with a black sliding mitt noticeably sticking out of his left back pocket.

Per the league rules, the Rays and the other players at the “Bronco” level (ages 11-12), play actual full-on baseball. They can take leads and steal bases whenever they like, though headfirst slides are only allowed when returning to a base, just like in Little League.

Longtime MBSA executive commissioner Josh Plassmeyer is milling about, trying to keep tabs on everything. Plassmeyer outlawed sliding mitts on his son Grant's 10-and-under tournament team, calling them a “distraction" because players would spend so much time fiddling with them once they got to first base, they would miss signs from the third-base coach.

About 50 feet away, Jones settles into the box and rips a ball to left-center field. His long legs carry him past first base, and he cruises into second with an easy double.

As his teammates erupted in the dugout, Jones beamed for a brief moment. Then, as the opposing pitcher stepped onto the rubber, he took an aggressive lead off second and eyed third.

His back pocket, the one where his sliding mitt had been 30 minutes before, was empty.

AP MLB: https://apnews.com/hub/mlb

San Diego Padres' Fernando Tatis Jr., left, scores before Pittsburgh Pirates catcher Joey Bart can apply the tag on a wild pitch by pitcher David Bednar during the ninth inning of a baseball game in Pittsburgh, Saturday, May 3, 2025. (AP Photo/Gene J. Puskar)

Youth ballplayer Josiah Jones bats during youth baseball game in Monroeville, Pa., with his sliding matt in his back pocket on April 27, 2025. (AP Photo/Gene J. Puskar)

Youth ballplayer Josiah Jones bats during youth baseball game in Monroeville, Pa., with his sliding matt in his back pocket on April 27, 2025. (AP Photo/Gene J. Puskar)

CORRECTS SPELLING TO COLES NOT COLE Youth ballplayer Grayson Coles, left, waits for his game to get underway with his Savannah Banana sliding mitt in his back pocket on April 27, 2025 in Monroeville, Pa. (AP Photo/Gene J. Puskar)

What’s for dinner? Lately, at Apral Jack’s house, it’s whatever is on sale.

Jack scouts an app for deals at her local supermarket before she buys groceries. When she reaches the store, she grabs the weekly circular to look for coupons she might have missed. If the shelf prices look too high, she scratches items off her list or tries to find lower prices someplace else.

“The apples went up here, the ones I eat, so now I’m not going to get them here. I’ll go to Market Basket, where I can get them cheaper,” Jack, 50, said as she pushed a cart into a Stop & Shop near her home in Lexington, Massachusetts.

Couponing, comparison shopping and cutting back on favorite foods are new habits for her and millions of other Americans as they absorb the biggest jump in grocery prices in a half-century. Buying food to eat at home has gotten 33% more expensive in U.S. cities since the beginning of 2019, according to government figures. In the 7 1/2 years before that, prices rose 6.4%.

The historic increase happened for numerous reasons. The coronavirus pandemic snarled supply chains and raised labor and transportation costs. Droughts, hurricanes and diseases like bird flu drove down production. Tariffs raised prices on foreign products like coffee, tomatoes and chocolate. Russia's ongoing war in Ukraine disrupted oil and fertilizer supplies.

With a fresh conflict in the Middle East accelerating food price inflation again this year, the cost of filling their refrigerators, freezers and pantries has become a frustration for Americans and made affordability a central issue in the fall midterm elections.

By some measures, Americans are better equipped to handle the higher prices, if only slightly. The average weekly earnings of people with full-time jobs job have gone up a bit faster than the cost of groceries since 2019, according to data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

But consumers have long memories when it comes to food shopping, and they know their dollars aren’t going as far as they used to, said Jared Bernstein, a senior policy fellow at the Stanford Institute for Economic Policy.

Wages grew much more quickly than grocery prices before the pandemic, Bernstein said. Even if a typical worker's paycheck still outpaces supermarket receipts by a small margin, consumers may feel stressed and aggrieved because other costs, like housing and electricity, have climbed significantly as well, he said.

“People have a well-honed sense of those prices, just as much as gas and maybe more so,” Bernstein, who served as chair of the Council of Economic Advisers under former President Joe Biden, said. “You need groceries to live.”

An economic indicator like median wages does not capture the capacity of family budgets to accommodate additional price hikes. Americans spent an average of 12.9% of their pretax incomes on eating out and at home in 2024, but the share was 33% for the one-fifth of U.S. households with the lowest earnings, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Prices also can vary substantially by region. In St. Louis, food for home use cost 2% more in June compared to a year earlier; in San Francisco, it was 6%, the consumer price index showed.

In interviews, residents of four urban areas where food price inflation has exceeded the national average shared how steadily rising prices are changing the way they shop. They described hunting for discounts, switching brands and feeling grateful for food banks. Some are more cautious about buying nonessentials like takeout coffee. Others are buying less meat or less food overall.

“It’s almost like a strategy, a household strategy, where financial pressure just hasn’t disappeared, so consumers are really developing their own playbook on how to navigate it,” said Sally Lyons Wyatt, a global executive vice president at market research company Circana.

Beef epitomizes out-of-control grocery prices for many Americans. The price of a pound of ground beef reached $6.82 in June, which is 79% more than at the beginning of 2019, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data. Contributing factors include a shrinking U.S. cattle herd, drought in the West, and the costs of feed and fuel.

Demand for ground beef is falling as a result, according to market research company NielsenIQ. Ada Torres, 60, is one of the people no longer buying it: with five pounds of ground beef costing almost $20, meat has become a luxury for her family of five, she said.

Torres lives 45 miles northeast of Houston in Cleveland, Texas, where she shares a home with her 36-year-old daughter and three grandchildren. Her daughter, who works for a mobile car-washing service, is the family's main provider. Torres does the grocery shopping and cooking.

“Prices are sky-high. One hundred dollars’ worth of groceries these days is nothing. Maybe you can bring home seven family-size items, if you manage to find a good deal,” she said.

Swapping Goya canned beans and Hunt’s tomato sauce for products from Walmart’s Great Value range is one way Torres tries to cut costs. Chicken and cold cuts are now the family’s main source of animal protein, she said.

Torres worries that too much deli meat will be bad for the health of her grandchildren, ages 12, 15 and 16. They miss beef dishes that were once staples on their table, like lasagna with ground beef, beef fajitas and steak with plantain chips, she said.

Torres' daughter's work dwindles during the rainy season in Texas, and the family only can afford one complete meal a day. Breakfast and dinner consist of simple fare like eggs and generic cereals.

Apral Jack's grocery-shopping trips included going to Whole Foods until recently. She liked the selection and has fewer mouths to feed now that her three daughters are adults.

“I don’t have to worry about buying for them anymore,” Jack said with a smile, noting that her days of loading up a cart at Costco and BJ's Wholesale Club are in the past.

But she spends more cautiously than she once did. She buys steak only if she can get it at a discount. Her weekly menu planning starts at home with an app that displays special offers and digital coupons. She builds her shopping list around what's on sale.

“Typically, I’ll try to pick the meals based on that. So like chicken fajitas: there was a three-day sale on chicken. I’ll sauté chicken with vegetables and rice,” Jack said.

Her list includes fewer canned goods. Nabisco’s Ginger Snaps and Nilla Wafers are off it completely because she thinks they cost too much. She doesn't buy store-brand replacements; to Jack, they don't taste the same.

Matt Hamory, who leads the global grocery practice at the consulting company AlixPartners, said consumers generally have an amount they’re comfortable spending on food each week. They will go to a more expensive store or splurge on a treat if prices fall below that. But if prices seem unreasonable or the economic outlook is uncertain, they’ll look for cheaper alternatives or cut back.

“I’m going to spend $250 a week, so if I’m shopping at Stop & Shop and they’re getting more expensive, then I’ll start splitting my trips with cheaper places and eventually maybe I’ll lose Stop & Shop entirely,” Hamory said.

San Francisco has a reputation as a great city for foodies. Food preoccupies 33-year-old Jack Chang for other reasons. The self-employed barber has three young children and a partner who is unemployed. The money he makes cutting hair five or six days a week sometimes doesn't go far enough.

"Since I have five mouths I have to feed, basically — and then sometimes my mom, too — it’s a lot on me financially,” Chang said.

They are not a family that goes out for boba milk teas or artisanal ice cream, both of which abound in San Francisco. They visit Round 1 Bowling & Arcade, a Japanese entertainment center with $1 ice cream cones.

Like a lot of Bay Area residents, Chang has felt surrounded by rising costs in the last year. The rent for his barbershop increased 10% as he was losing clients laid off from their tech jobs, he said. He bought a used minivan, so now he has a monthly car payment.

“I look at my credit card every month and I’m like, ‘Wow, how am I going to pay this?’ So I’m a little behind on bills, honestly,” Chang said.

Chang and his partner, Tina Chhous, try to economize by buying generic brands of food and medicine. They buy organic milk but otherwise stick to conventional products.

When their 4-year-old daughter’s preschool has leftover lunch items like meat or bread, Chhous offers to take it. She also receives monthly food assistance through the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP.

“Without that, I don’t know what I would do,” Chang said.

Fewer people have the same buffer after the Trump administration tightened SNAP eligibility requirements last year. As of April, 37 million Americans were enrolled in the program, a 12% decline from a year earlier, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Chang's 77-year-old mother, Lien, receives SNAP aid, too, and visits two different food banks each week. She shares the canned food, eggs and produce she gets with the rest of the family.

Chang loves doting on his children, and acknowledges that money would be less worrisome if he were single.

“But I try to be optimistic and do what I have to do in order to support my family," he said. "Failure is not an option for me.”

High grocery bills come with living in Hawaii. The state gets nearly all its food from cargo ships that have traveled thousands of miles, making prices and the selection at stores vulnerable to oil market spikes.

Prices for local products also took an upswing this year. The cost of shipping goods between the Hawaiian Islands has skyrocketed amid rising fuel prices tied to the Iran conflict and financial instability within the company that has a near-monopoly on interisland shipping.

Amanda Tabadero, 28, a pastry chef from Kāneʻohe, a community on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, remembers buying Maui-grown strawberries and blueberries for $7.99 per pound in 2024. Now that they cost $11, she buys berries grown in California or Mexico at Costco for $5 when she needs a bulk supply for baking.

Tabadero also doubts she will buy lychee fruit again anytime soon. Kaimana lychee, the variety grown in Hawaii, mostly comes from the Big Island. Tabadero said an iced coffee and a bag of lychee she recently bought in the Chinatown section of Honolulu came to $30.

“It makes me sad,” Tabadero said. “I want to use local stuff.”

One of her favorite sweets is butter mochi, a chewy dessert made from rice flour. But even that simple recipe has gotten harder to make. One essential ingredient, milk, now costs $9 a gallon at a locally owned supermarket chain, Tabadero said.

“Foodland is not affordable” for locals, she said, referring to the chain known for its poke and which has a central Honolulu location that is popular with tourists. Tabadero has switched to shopping at Target or Times Supermarket, another Hawaii-based chain.

At home, where she lives with her parents and younger sister, three cats and a dog, making dinner has required adjustments. Chuck roast for Hawaii-style beef stew, a local staple, crept up last year to roughly $10 a pound from $7.99 or less before the pandemic. Unless she snags a $5 Friday deal at Safeway, “we do have to find substitutes, even if we’re craving it,” Tabadero said.

This report is a collaboration between The Associated Press and The Lexington Observer in Massachusetts, La Esquina in Texas and Honolulu Civil Beat in Hawaii. AP Video Journalist Terry Chea contributed from San Francisco.

Pastry chef Amanda Tabadero pours milk into a plastic container while preparing ingredients for maritozzi at Creature Coffeeshop in Kaneʻohe, Hawaii, Tuesday, July 7, 2026. (Hikari Mae Hida/Honolulu Civil Beat via AP)