The forecast for tomorrow includes snow, but the calendar still says baseball’s opening day is next week.

So what better time to read a book about baseball? In this case, it was “Sixty Feet, Six Inches” — a book that basically follows a conversation between hall-of-famers Bob Gibson and Reggie Jackson.

The book was a gift from my sister (thanks, Mal!), and I really meant to read it at this time last year. I must have been distracted. Actually, after checking the archives, it looks like I was working on plowing through a 700-page book about basketball.

For anyone who has played baseball, “Sixty Feet, Six Inches” is a fascinating look inside the minds of people who played the game at its highest level. Jackson tells you what he was thinking as he stepped to the plate in a certain situation, and Gibson counters with his perspective from the mound.

I knew a bit about Jackson before I read the book, and his portion really just solidified my impression of his supreme confidence in his own ability. Gibson was more of a mystery to me, but I found his insight to be much more interesting. I also learned he once played for the Harlem Globetrotters, who knew?

Gibson figured out a way for people to endear themselves to me by mentioning one of the finest films of all time. In discussing his pitching motion, Gibson says, “If they would have let me, I’d have loved to back up and run up over the mound like jai alai, like Happy Gilmore hitting a drive.”

I see no problems with this.

He also had great insight on why baseball players — especially pitchers — should hustle on every play. A reporter asked why Gibson ran hard to first base whenever he hit the ball, when many other pitchers just jogged lightly assuming they would be thrown out.

“You know, I run three times a game from home to first, less than twice a week,” Gibson said. “Why can’t I run hard?”

Another interesting aspect of the book is that even with all of the games these guys played in their lives, they could recall certain at-bats with incredible detail. Now, I have no way of verifying if they are remembering correctly, or if the details were added later, but I definitely know what it’s like to have something like this story from Jackson stick in your mind:

“I got it one-and-one, but the pitch was ball two and they took the sign off. Then [pitcher Reggie] Cleveland left a slider over the plate a little bit.” Jackson hit it for a home run.

As your probably assumed by now, I played a bit of baseball when I was growing up. During the summer I played on all-star teams that would travel to different tournaments, mostly in Virginia.

Here’s 10-year-old me during one of those summers. Note the awesome red cleats:

A few years after that, when I was 12, my team played in a tournament in Staunton, Va. I didn’t play a whole lot that summer, but in the bottom of the fifth inning I was called into a game to pinch hit.

Just like Jackson, I remember the little details of that at-bat. The bases were loaded and we were losing by three runs. With a count of two balls and two strikes, the pitcher bounced a curveball in the dirt — full count.

The opposing coach called timeout to go talk to his pitcher. I jogged down to talk to our third base coach, who basically told me that if I got a hit here, I would probably get to play more. No pressure or anything.

I stepped back to the plate. The pitcher threw another curveball, this one starting over the plate and diving down and in — the absolute perfect spot for my swing. I hit a line drive over the right field fence. It was my first home run, a grand slam that won the game.

I have that ball sitting on a shelf in my bedroom.

Happy spring.