When I was a kid I am fairly certain I would have given away all my worldly possessions to snag a foul ball at a baseball game. I even would have given up my lefty softball glove, my Garbage Pail Kids trading cards or all my Transformers for that scuffed, dirtied orb of greatness. To hold a ball that hit the bat of Keith Hernandez or Daryl Strawberry or had been held by Doc Gooden was too much to comprehend for my twelve-year-old brain. Currently, as a person who is well into their forties, I would still give up my prized possessions for a foul ball. I haven’t gotten one yet, but every time I go to a ball game, whether it is a minor league or major league game, I still hope one might land in my hands.
I realize now the beauty of a foul ball is not who hit or touched it, but rather the hope you feel when you sit down in your stadium seat. My wife and I will survey our surrounding area; looking for obstacles or tall people who could grab a ball over our outstretched hands. We also look at what types of hits will make it into our area and when we should be prepared if it is a lefty or righty batter. My wife is a pro at getting foul balls, she surveys the stadium like a red-tailed hawk checks out a grassy field for a mouse. I believe her best grab was a Nomar Garciaparra ball when he was playing in the minors in Trenton, New Jersey, but you will have to ask her.
In the early days of baseball, fans were not allowed to keep a ball that went into the stands. The same baseball would be used for an entire game even if it were hit into the stands or was damaged during play. They were considered private property and it was inconceivable that a fan would keep a baseball. Baseball teams would often hire ushers to confiscate baseballs when they landed into the seats.
The person who gave us the hope of catching a foul ball was an eleven-year-old kid named Robert “Toughie Reds” Cotter. At a Philadelphia Phillies game on July 18, 1922, Robert Cotter snagged a foul ball but refused to give it to security when they came to retrieve it. He was taken away and presented to the team manager where he continued to refuse to hand over the baseball. The Philadelphia team ownership decided to take a firm stance once and for all and had eleven-year-old Robert Cotter taken down to the local police precinct and demanded he be charged with larceny.
Robert’s mother arrived at the jail later in the day when the courthouse was closed, so he spent the night in jail. The next day he was brought before Judge Charles Lincoln Brown who dropped all charges against Robert and admonished the Philadelphia Phillies. In his ruling he stated that, “such an act on the part of a boy is merely proof that he is following his most natural impulses.” And he added, “it is a thing I would do myself.”
The whole incident turned into a public relations disaster for the Phillies as newspapers around the country ran the story. Baseball teams soon realized there was no better way to create a lifetime fan and avoid bad publicity by letting fans keep a special souvenir of their day at the ballpark.
The story of Robert Cotton does have a happy, but long time coming ending. In 1998, the Philadelphia Phillies made it up to eighty-seven-year-old Robert Cotter by presenting him a baseball signed by the entire team and naming him “the fan of the century.”
Time Out With Jenn & Lisa 