Do you want to know how you make it to the big leagues? Do you want to see how you become the Big 12 Champions? Do you want to know how to become KIRK SAARLOOS?!?

That MITT.

Take a close look-

The Webbing, the Palm, and the Hinge are completely blown to shit.

The lacing is holding on for dear life like the third ape trying to be on the ark.

Putting on that MITT feels like falling into a velvet gutter.

That glove has been to war.

That Mitt has caught more balls than a six-armed juggler.

That Mitt has had a hand slapped in so many times in anticipation of the next out that you could use it as evidence in a bank heist.

My brother didn’t make it to THE SHOW out of talent; he made it out of a shear force of will.

Angry, Vengeful Will.

Kirk doesn’t like to win,

Kirk hates to lose.

Kirk hates to lose with such a vile disdain that he wouldn’t talk until he won again.

Dead Ass Silence

Until he could exact his revenge.

I saw it. I lived it. I would try to get him to laugh, to break the stone-like intensity of sharing a room with someone who would stare at the wall,

Waiting and plotting.

Just filling the room with a black coal smoke burning every last ember of a loss out of existence.

He was 10 when he did this.

Kirk didn’t want the ball; he needed it.

He needed it like he needed to breathe. Losses would drown him.

I’ve seen his team win games, and a Still, he wouldn’t want to talk because his play wasn’t to his expectations.

He still holds records in Collegiate baseball for innings pitched. He would relieve on one day and start the next….

Why?

Because he beat the shit out of that glove and wanted to win for his team.

It was selflessness, bordering on martyrdom.

That glove is a tool, a relic, a testament to hours upon hours of work.

A Maniac wearing that Mitt.

Just too dumb to quit.

At 10 years old, He knew.

He knew that somewhere someone was working to beat him,

He didn’t know his name, but when a slugger emerged named Sammy Sossa, he was chasing a home run title.

When Sammy crowded the plate to show a 185lb kid who the man was.

@kirksaarloos threw a fastball ball right into his ass.

That’s my brother.

That’s his Mitt.

We Live in order to : Honor those that have come before us. + Prepare the way for those yet to come.
The wines we release this year are the last my father farmed from plow to harvest.
Some could say the last remnants of his work.
I disagree.
The work continues.
I was prepared.
But I was not ready.
Nor do I think I ever would be.

But I was prepared.
His boys have grown in his absence.
Not because he was holding us back,
But because we needed to.
We were prepared.

But if you think I was going to miss an opportunity to honor my father with this year’s releases you are mistaken.
Each bottle has a subtle nod to my father.
Each bottle is an opportunity to say his name and keep his legend alive.
I say legend and not legacy because that rests in his sons and in his grandchildren.

In a simple statement.

We live in order to Honor those that have come before us and to prepare the way for those yet to come.

That is who we are.
That is what we do.

Most are already Sold Out.
But Family will always be taken care of.

This wine is one of 3 Syrah’s we have released this year. It all comes from the same vineyard and was all picked on the same day. Furthermore, these vines are genetically identical. The vines are Clones of each other. Cuttings taken and replicated over and over. Genetically they are all one vine just planted in slightly different locations. These 3 wines are from 3 different hillsides.

MITT is from the Little Boy Terrace the furthest and steepest of the hillsides comprising only 16 rows.
BUCKLE is taken from the FatMan terrace located lightly north comprising 24 rows cascading along the hillside.
And Finally, GLOVES is coming from the High Hill the furthest most hillside at the entrance of Windmill Ranch and Vineyard.

We take it upon ourselves in our family to follow our family creed :

We live in order to: Honor those that have come before us + to prepare the way for those yet to come.