|
I have two dozen baseballs in our living room.
No, they're not piled in an equipment bag, on their way from or to the car.
I have two dozen baseballs on display in our living room.
A third of them form a wreath with a bough--a collection of non-descript game balls knit together into a sense of home. In a hutch across the room, there's an unsigned game ball from a chilly spring evening when we visited Chicago's Wrigley Field before the ivy had awakened to clothe the outfield walls. The balance of the twenty-four balls, also in the hutch, bear signatures.
Most of them, as you might imagine, by baseball players.
It's an odd assortment of players, scarcely meaningful to others. There are baseballs signed by childhood heroes including Willie Mays, Duke Snider, Red Schoendienst, Del Crandall. There's a ball from years ago signed by the entire team of the Texas Rangers--sans budding prima donna Alex Rodriguez. There's a curious ball signed by three relatively obscure pitchers who pitched the final games in the Brooklyn Dodgers' Ebbets Field (1957), the New York Giants' Polo Grounds (1957), and old, old, Yankee Stadium (1973), prior to it's extensive refurbishing.
There's one baseball signed by a former quarterback--yes, football--of the UCLA Bruins, Mark Harmon. He's known to a younger generation for his alter ego, the Very Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
The remaining baseballs are signed by favorite Christian authors: Ruth Haley-Barton, Robert Mulholland, and N.T Wright. Mr. Wright graciously signed the baseball with a chuckle, saying, "I've never done this before." Rest assured, if I ever need to speak with him again, I know how to identify myself.
There are two or three contemporary writers I'd yet like to add to my collection. And, there are two deceased authors whose signatures I would love to have on the sweet spot of a baseball: C.S. Lewis and the Apostle John. I once found a baseball signed by the beloved apostle for sale on eBay, but it lacked a Certificate of Authenticity. You have to be careful; there's a lot of fraudulent signatures on the memorabilia market. Besides, John's signature was on a Bowie Kuhn ball, who was Commissioner of Major League Baseball from 1969 through 1984. Call it a hunch, but I passed on the opportunity.
What's the value of my autographed baseballs and other collectibles? Well, beyond knowing. Their worth to me cannot be counted in dollars. They are, instead, evidence that the heroes of my story are real and at home in my world. And they've stopped by and signed my guestbook.
Who would you like to meet--living or dead--and why?
What would you ask them?
What small physical structure--like an autograph--might be a meaningful container to hold that memory?
| 
