Not Invited to the Party
The Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum
October 23, 2018– A while back, soon after the death of umpire Doug Harvey, I began to wonder if The Hall Ball could be “complete” without me actually getting all (currently) 323 photos. I have photographed all 240 deceased members of the Hall, as well as 77 living ones. Only six living members remain. They are: Ken Griffey, Jr., Sandy Koufax, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Nolan Ryan and Tom Seaver.
I have, over the years, attempted to reach out to these remaining players in multiple ways. I contacted both the Reds and the Mariners for Mr. Griffey, to no avail. I exchanged numerous emails with no fewer than four people in the San Francisco Giants organization to try and reach Messrs. Mays and McCovey. After numerous promises that my request would be forwarded to the correct people, I never received a final reply. I camped out at Astros spring training when I knew Mr. Ryan was in town, and I exchanged repeated emails with Astros rep Gene Dias. Again, no luck. I even received a very kind letter from Nancy Seaver explaining that her husband has essentially stopped making baseball-related appearances and was not interested in meeting with me.
The only one that I did not perhaps put my “all” into was Mr. Koufax. A friend of mine, who is influential in SABR, knows a guy who eats lunch with Sandy and he tried to connect us. Another SABR acquaintance, a writer who is friends with Koufax biographer Jane Leavy, reached out to see if she could be of assistance. Neither personal connection turned out to be fruitful. I even contacted the New York Mets because I know of his close friendship with team owner Fred Wilpon. For a time, you were more likely to find Mr. Koufax at the spring camp for the Mets than the Dodgers, so I explored that path. I never heard back. The one thing I did not do was contact the Dodgers. This was, in part, because I knew that Koufax’s relationship with the Dodgers was strained at times. But, it was also because at that point in the process it was very clear to me that reaching out to the teams was not actually useful. Not a single one of the photographs in the project is a result of assistance from one of the clubs.
So it was, while attending Induction Weekend 2018, that I decided that this year’s class was going to be the final one. I would continue to put in all due-diligence to try and reach the final six but if I did not succeed by the end of this year’s baseball season (which also happens to be one month before the Veteran’s Committee announces their choices for the Class of 2019), I was going to donate the ball to the Hall of Fame as-is. The final photo was taken on July 30th. It was of Chipper Jones, who was so quick to put a pen to the ball that before I could explain the project to him, he actually scrawled a “C” on its leather hide. I stopped him before he got beyond that one letter. A player being too quick with the pen was always a risk. It’s funny that it was the last one who finally “signed” the ball.
Now, the end of the season is rapidly approaching. The World Series begins tonight. So, last week, I quietly submitted the ball to The Hall of Fame Accessions Committee for their consideration. They only meet once a month, and I really wanted the process complete before the Class of 2019 was announced. So, I accelerated my timeline by a few weeks so that they could discuss the ball at their October 16th meeting.
I sent Sue McKay, the head of accessions at the Hall of Fame, an email letting her know I was ready. She thanked me and asked if I had any photos of the ball. I sent her a link to the flickr page where all 317 photos could be viewed. A few days later I asked her if she wanted me to send a brief description of the project for her to give to the committee. After all, I never assume someone has heard of the ball and I wanted to be sure they each understood the depth and breadth of the project. She said that would be helpful and she again asked me if I had any photos. I once again sent her the link to the flickr page as well as attached some of the more eye-catching pictures. She again thanked me and said she would get back to me.
It would be foolish to pretend that I did not spend the entire day of the 16th awaiting to hear the ball’s fate. I have had this idea for over eight years. I have traveled thousands of miles, spent tens of thousands of dollars, enjoyed the fifteen minutes that the New York Times and CBS Evening News provided, and told the story of the project to hundreds, if not thousands, of people who I have met over the course of this quest. Some were just fans, waiting in line at a baseball card show. Some were influential individuals like MLB historian John Thorn and Hall of Fame President Jeff Idelson. This ball has taken me far and wide and opened many doors for me along the way. On that day, the conclusion of this epic quest was finally about to be written.
Ms. McKay did not contact me on the 16th. By the late-morning of the 17th, I had waited long enough, so I wrote her. It took about 45 minutes to receive the response.
“Good morning Ralph,
The Acquisitions Committee met yesterday afternoon and decided to graciously decline your kind donation offer of the Hall Ball. “
There was more but it wasn’t until later that I actually read that part. I couldn’t get past that first sentence.
They don’t want it.
I would like to say that I am devastated, but that is not true. I would like to say I am angry, but that would be pointless. I am, more than anything, confused.
There was additional communication, including an invitation to submit the book to the Hall, where they would be happy to include it in the permanent collection. Upon my urging, Ms. McKay gave a more detailed response as to why they came to their decision and while her answers make a certain sense on the surface, the longer I sit with them the more confused I become. I am waiting to share those reasons with those of you who have been following the Hall Ball until I have a little more time to process them. Maybe I will include them in the book.
Which brings me to the point at which I am currently. The book is essentially written. All that remains is the final chapter, which describes the ultimate fate of the ball. While I have some ideas, I am a little shell-shocked at the moment and don’t really know how to wrap this up. While I always knew that it was possible that the Hall would not want it, I guess in my heart of hearts I always believed they would. It seems so anti-climactic, after all this, for the finalé of the book to be that the ball ends up sitting on my shelf at home, a gift scorned by its intended receiver. I mean, that’s a pretty shitty ending to a book, right?
Or maybe not. Baseball is a sport where the greatest players fail 70% of the time. It’s a sport where every year half the teams lose more than half their games. It is a sport that, in the words of perhaps its loftiest-thinking commissioner, Bart Giamatti, “is designed to break your heart.” As I write this, my heart is not broken, but it is surely battered.
So, friends of the Hall Ball, what do YOU think should be next? I am still calling the Class of 2018 the final class. I have no desire to pursue future inductees. If I attend Induction Weekend this year it will be the first time that I do so without an agenda and that thought is liberating. But, do I keep the ball for now? Donate it to a charity? Throw it into Sheepshead Bay? The one thing I won’t do is sell it. I got the 77 photos of the living members under the promise that the ball was going to be donated. Granted, I specifically said donated to The Hall of Fame, and since they don’t want it, perhaps that frees me from that promise. But, it wouldn’t feel right. All along I wanted to make an artifact and not just another piece of memorabilia. Selling it would seem antithetical to that.
I have been advised by those that love me that I should wait. That all of this is too new, too painful, to make any long-term decisions. I am following that advice for now. After all, it took me nearly a week to write this and tell you all about what happened. I am going to take whatever happens next slowly.
But, I want to finish that book. I want this story to end. There is so much more I want to accomplish in the world of baseball, but I feel like I am stuck here until I complete the task at hand. I don’t know if that’s even true. But, it pains me to leave this project that has meant so much to me over the years in limbo. Maybe now that I have been able to write this, to tell all of you who have been a part of the journey how it’s turned out, I will be able to write the end of my book. I hope so. It seems the healthiest way to say goodbye.