The Value of a Baseball

My first job was at McDonalds. At $5.25 and hour, I cranked out about thirty hours a week on the grill at night while attending high school during the day. There was no real incentive to work as much, or as hard, as I did. There was no car payment for me to make. In 1994, when I bought this particular baseball, I was not out wasting my money on frivolous teenage pursuits. In those days, my only passion was the game of baseball. I would skip school on occasion to catch the “Business Fan’s Special” at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium. At night, I would listen intently as the games played out on my radio at work. It should then come as no surprise that my lone expensive pursuit would be the collection of autographed baseballs. The baseball that I bought in 1994 is dubbed “The No-Hitter Ball” and cost me about $175 dollars. The ball is signed by Bob Feller, Sandy Koufax, and Nolan Ryan and came with its own wooden display holder. What would possess me to pay that much money for what is ostensibly just a ball scratched with ink? While the intrinsic value of the ball would seem to lie only in the eye of the beholder, its true worth is not just nostalgic or sentimental. The value of this baseball is in its story.

Major League Baseball requires that every ball that is used must conform to a specific standard. According to the official rule, “The ball should be a sphere formed by yarn wound around a small sphere of cork, or rubber, or similar material covered with two stripes of white horsehide or cowhide, tightly stitched together” (Giroux). According to Robin Giroux of Chemical & Engineering News, these materials, when combined with a strict uniformity, amount to approximately 600,000 balls distributed amongst each major league team yearly (Giroux). Thus, since 1994, some 6,000,000 baseballs have been created for professional games alone. Every baseball made exactly like the last. Value is often related to the rarity of the object in question. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the official supplier of baseballs to the major leagues, Rawlings, sells these baseballs for only $14.99 (Rawlings.com).

Superstition is very much apart of the fabric of baseball. The players go through countless machinations prior to performing even the most mundane task on the field. Some players tap the plate a specific number of times before preparing to swing. Former San Francisco Giant slugger, Matt Williams, would lick his left sleeve three times before assuming his batting stance. Even the fans are not immune to superstition, as they will often hold their breath before a pitch or wear only certain items containing “good luck” to the ballpark. A no-hitter is no exception to this rule. Pitchers who make it past the fifth inning of a game with a zero in the hits allowed column can expect a stone silence in the dugout. The pitcher’s teammates often give him a wide berth on the bench between innings. As the impending historic moment approaches, players will often avert their eyes from the pitcher so as not to jinx the no-hitter.

As summed up by Glenn Dickey in The Great No-Hitters, Bob Feller sat in the visitor’s dugout surrounded utter silence. Fellow Cleveland Indian, Jeff Heath, attempted to lighten the tension of the moment by telling Feller a joke. Harry Eisenhart quickly put an end to Heath’s blasphemy by threatening to “stick [his] hand down [Heath’s] throat to the elbow” should Heath utter another word (Dickey 93). On that blustery Chicago day, which was April 16, 1940, Bob Feller would go on to pitch his first “no-no” against the Chicago White Sox. That performance would be the first of three no-hitters pitched by the Cleveland right-hander in his career. Feller would hold the record for most no-hitters pitched by a single player until Sandy Koufax broke it in 1965.

It was September 9^th and the Dodgers were embroiled in one of the most contentious pennant chases in National League history. By this time, Sandy Koufax’s career was imperiled by extreme pain due to arthritis in his left elbow. Dickey describes the elbow as “swelling to the size of his knee,” when Koufax pitched (Dickey 29). Koufax would soon be forced to cut his career drastically short due to the arthritis. “But for an hour and 43 minutes on that warm September evening,” Dickey writes, “everybody forgot about the tension of the pennant race,” as Koufax would pitch, not only his fourth no-hitter in four years, but a perfect game (Dickey 29). All twenty-seven batters who came up to the plate that day were sent back to the dugout in frustration. It was said that Koufax was, “Throwing with so much effort, his cap was falling off” (Dickey 30). That game would be his last no-hitter, but it would cinch Koufax’s eventual inclusion into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

May 1, 1991, was Arlington Appreciation Night at the ballpark. As reported by Jim Molony for MLB.com, Nolan Ryan took the mound despite suffering from a bad back, flu-like symptoms, and a split callous on his pitching hand. Greatness is measured by those who, regardless of pain and obstacles, perform feats that awe and inspire. At forty-four years old, Nolan Ryan was well past the retirement age of most other players. With nothing left to prove, and induction into the Hall of Fame already guaranteed, Ryan strode into the center of the diamond and hurled a masterpiece. Firing an “explosive” fastball and striking out sixteen batters, Nolan Ryan pitched an unprecedented seventh career no-hitter (Molony). That seventh no-hitter gave Ryan three more than the closest player in the record books, Sandy Koufax. Ryan would finish his career two years later with 324 wins, tied with Bob Feller for the most one hitters ever thrown, and more strikeouts than any other pitcher in major league history (Molony).

The value of a baseball lies not in its stitching, seams, or cover. The value is in the sweat and blood of a pitcher past his prime in body but not in soul. The baseball divines its worth from a man willing to play through excruciating pain in order to give his teammates and fans one more day in the sun. The baseball I purchased over ten years ago is valuable because of the possibilities it represents. Very few times in life do average people experience or achieve perfection. Most people go all their lives having never tasted even one moment of greatness. The three men who signed my baseball combined to achieve greatness fourteen times. For fourteen moments, these players were masters of the diamond and gods of their own universe. Even if only for a brief time, this baseball was held by those men. I purchased this ball because it is evidence that greatness can be achieved in both our brightest and our darkest hours. The ball is proof that heroes can be born because here they once lived.

“It’s our game,” exclaimed Walt Whitman, “That’s the chief fact of it: America’s game. {Baseball} has the snap, go, fling of the American atmosphere, belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.” (Rader xv)

My parents were aghast at how much I had spent on the “No-Hitter Ball.” I believe they called me irresponsible and the opposite of thrifty. In the end, I was able to placate my parents by claiming that the ball was a prudent investment which, over time, could appreciate in value much like those plates sold on television late at night. Factually speaking, the ball has more than doubled in its speculative resale value. However, I never intend to sell this or any of my other eight autographed baseballs. To me, the value of the ball is priceless.