This is the ONLY known baseball signed by a solar system of diverse luminaries including: Vic Tayback (Mel in “Alice”) who threw an 18-hitter for the Pirates against the Reds in ’84. His breaking balls weren’t breaking so well.
Tommy Smothers (Dickie’s little brother) had an unassisted triple play for the Mariners in a ’77 game against the Angels. Smothers didn’t even wear a glove and smoked a pipe of Cherry Blend tobacco throughout the entire game–– even when batting!
Mr. Ed, who in 1964 became the only horse to every steal home plate in a game the Tigers played against the Orioles. He almost trampled O’s catcher John Orsino to death. Orsino ironically had the nickname “horse” and laughed about the incident from his hospital bed. Well, some say it wasn’t laughter so much as moans of agonizing pain and suffering, but the story is still classic. Mr. Ed rarely gave autographs, making this baseball an invaluable sports relic.
Dan Rather hit six home runs playing for the Indians against the Yankees in ’92 (he weighed 278 at the time and looked like the Michelin Man, but it was never proven the newscaster took anabolic steroids– so there!)
Kate Hepburn lept 13 feet over the centerfield wall for the Dodgers to rob Hank Aaron of a home run in ’81 (allegedly, Aaron hasn’t watched any of her movies since!)
Keith Moon. The madman drummer of The Who in 1976 played two innings at shortstop for the Kansas City Royals and compiled nine errors and hurled sick on two umpires. Moon was ejected from the game and immediately bought a tray of ice cold beers.
Paul Lynde, “Mr. Middle” of Hollywood Squares fame pitched six games for the San Francisco Giants in 1973 with an incredible ERA of 0.62. The management of the Giants begged Lynde to join the roster, but he declined. “If I’m going to play games, I’ll play Squares, thank you very much,” he said flippantly adding his trademark cackle. Those fans who saw Lynde pitch said he was an incredible hurler with heat, precision and balls that broke like nobody’s business.
Cher, the woman who defines diva, was the designated hitter for the Yankees in a game against the Royals in ’89. The singer had four at bats with a long drive to left center that was caught, a triple down the right field line, a ground rule double over the centerfield wall and a towering home run into the left field bleachers. “If I weren’t such an incredibly talented singer and gifted natural actor,” she told reporters after the game, “I might just wear some pin stripes full time. They’re slimming on the butt. Hey, Mattingly– buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, ’cause I don’t care if I never get back!”
Those are just a few of the autographs on this priceless item I now own. I will not disclose how much I paid for this baseball, but let’s just say it was a king’s ransom and a queen’s 401-K. But, I am a tough negotiator– I got the seller to throw in some magic beans. Later I’ll give you a peek at some other famous names on this baseball.
You can find more about the legacy of the ball on Wikipedia. It turns out it’s hundreds of years old! Apparently it arrived in this country on the Mayflower and was pitched across the Potomac along with other objects by George Washington. Later, Marie Antoinette flung it at annoying servants and Jefferson Davis hurled it at pursuing Yankees as he fled across Georgia.
Congratulations! It’s an amazing object.
Thanks, Bill, for that historic background. I knew the ball was old, but not THAT old– although it does have the autograph of Hercules, perhaps the greatest third baseman of all time.
I regret to say that a queen’s 401(k) is worth approximately $4.92 (US) today, my dear. Not sure about a king’s ransom, but if he’s Greek, I think they’ll pay you to take him.
Oh, royalty ain’t what it used to be…
You got a lot of balls to write about your faux ball. I know for a fact, for example, that Mr. Ed NEVER autographed a ball. How do I know such a thing? I got it direct from the horse’s mouth. Well, not exactly from his mouth. It was actually something he told me in one of the many letters I received from him during our lengthy correspondence. In spite of Mr. Ed’s fame and the considerable amount of money he earned on TV, true happiness eluded him, inasmuch as he never found a filly who had much to say. As you can well imagine, it was difficult for him to carry both sides of a conversation, especially since he had so many poetic, romantic, even deeply touching and philosophical thoughts he wanted to express to a horse of the opposite gender. In one of his last letters, he asked me to never take advantage of our close friendship by publishing our correspondence. But he’s been gone for a long time. On one hand, I sense I should honor his request. On the other, I’m tempted to assemble the letters for publication. It’s an ethical dilemma I’m not equipped to handle. Suggestions would be appreciated.
How dare you question the authenticity of this historic relic! If you will look closely at the photo, the autograph clearly reads ‘MR ED.’ If, as you say, you did correspond with him, you know he was an honorable horse. I suggest you compare the penmanship of a letter with this autograph. I’d hate to think it is a fraud and I’ve been hoodwinked. Cripes, that could even call into question the legitimacy of my magic beans! And yes, Mr. O., I think you should publish the correspondence with Mr. ED. I believe he would have wanted it. I certainly want it– I want to read about his baseball career.
More interesting than Mr. Ed’s baseball career, if in fact he had one, is his career in the music industry. Or perhaps I should say his aborted career. Everybody knows, of course, of course, that he sang the theme to his famous TV show. What few people realize is that he also covered the great hits of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, even the King himself, Elvis Presley. Music, not baseball or acting, was his first love, as he mentioned time and again in his letters to me. Once, when I was but a youngster, I received a package in the mail. I knew it was from Mr. Ed because I recognized his handwriting. (Not the block letters on your baseball, inasmuch as he wrote in a rather magnificent cursive script.) Anyway, when I opened the package, I found a set of audio tapes. I chased around the neighborhood, looking for someone who owned a tape machine because such a expensive device was out of reach of my parents. After an hour or so of chasing around, I found myself standing at the door of Mr. Fred Fleming’s house. One thing I can tell you is that Mr. Fleming was never known as Mr. Friendly. He wasn’t exactly The Grinch, but he was definitely a grouch. Nervously, I knocked on his door. When it opened it, he said, “Whaddya want, kid?” I asked him if he had a tape machine, explaining that I wanted to listen to my Mr. Ed tapes. He smiled, believe it or not, and we sat in his living room for two hours, until I had to run home for dinner. As I ran out Mr. Fleming’s door, he told me I had some priceless artifacts and that I should guard them with my life, which I’ve done ever since. I’m the only one who’s ever heard the tapes – other than Mr. Fleming, of course. (But he’s gone so he doesn’t matter, right?) If/when I publish my voluminous correspondence with Mr. Ed, I think I’ll include a CD in the back of the book. With the letters and the tapes, I feel as though I’m the keeper of Mr. Ed’s flame. (Remember Gomer Pyle on “The Andy Griffith Show”? How truly goofy he was? And then how surprising it was when Gomer Pyle/Jim Nabors sang? That’s sort of what I’ve got on my tapes.)
Wow, that is an incredible story. But I still dispute your claim my Mr. Ed autograph is not authentic. If, as you say, Mr. Ed had “magnificent cursive script”, I can only assume he was the product of Catholic schooling, for the saintly Sisters said, “Pensmanship is close to Godliness, and handwriting that is sloppy is like writing oneself a one way ticket to flames and pitchforks.”
From what I’ve read, Mr. Ed was raised agnostic, a religion that leans squarely toward the expressive nature of simple block letters. I shant dispute your claims of Mr. E’s passion for singing, he had a wonderful voice and I could listen to it happily all the days of my life. The CD of his singing would certainly make a lovely accompaniment to your book of unpublished letters. Do it!
In short, I’ll buy everything about your story EXCEPT the claim that the autograph on my ball is bogus. I MUST believe Mr. Ed’s signature is authentic. Faith, good sir, is everything!!! The good Sisters taught it, therefore I believe it.
Amen, little brother.