Albert Pujols, a whole bunch of RBI, and one indecisive fan

Dude, where's my ball?

Last week, Albert Pujols reached a significant career milestone: 2,000 RBI. 

It's pretty easy to forget just how good of a player Albert Pujols really was.  I'm going to get in trouble with the #smrtbaseball crowd for throwing out these statistics, but, as these are the most commonly understood metrics... he hit north of 400 home runs and 1200 RBI in his first ten seasons with the Cardinals.  He averaged an OPS of 1.050.  His batting average easily cleared .300 and at its peak, his average eclipsed .350.  Those are spectacular numbers, elite numbers.  He really hasn't quite been the same since, however.  His decline is possibly historic in the sense that he's declined in a way that not many have.  Injuries took their toll, emptied his pockets of everything he had (i.e., the ability to hit opposite field, running for extra base hits, and so forth). 

That decline is quite possibly why hitting 2,000 RBI is so important. 

In fact, hitting 2,000 RBI was a really big deal.  Take a moment to consider who is on the list and who is not.

Who made the list:

• Hank Aaron, 2297
• Babe Ruth, 2,214
• Alex Rodriguez, 2,086

Who missed the list:

• Barry Bonds, 1,996
• Lou Gehrig, 1,995
• Stan Musial, 1,951
• Ty Cobb, 1,944

Guess where Albert Pujols falls on that list.  Fourth.  Fourth.  He's fourth all time in RBI hit, coming in at 2,003.  Pujols is in the same conversation as some of the most legendary and memorable players to ever play the game.  And the thing is, while he's suffered a steep decline, he's still going.  There's a reasonable argument to be made that he might just pass Hank Aaron for the most all time.  Even in the midst of his decline, he's still hitting fairly decent power numbers.  He has 22 RBI so far this year.  He had 64 in 2018, 101 in 2017, and 119 in 2016.  He's 39 years old and he's signed through 2021.  If anything, he may very well pass Alex Rodriguez sometime next year and his health will determine exactly how far he can go. 

I say all of this to make one point:  hitting 2,000 RBI was a very, very big deal.

The importance of that ball was revealed the moment he hit it.  He happened to hit a home run right into the stands and into the hands of one lucky fan.  It was at that moment that the controversy began.  The fan had no interest in returning the ball.  The Tigers organization offered him a variety of incentives to return the ball.  The fan said no.  Apparently an Angels fan offered $25,000 for the ball.  The fan said no each and every time.  The debate raged as to whether this fan had any obligation or duty to the return the ball.  Some argued that it was Albert's ball, others argued that it was legitimately the fan's ball.  However, there is no right or wrong answer here.  Albert has a claim to it, but so does the fan.

To smooth over and dampen the dispute some, Pujols intervened.  Pujols recognized that the fan had a legitimate claim to the ball.  He even went so far as to argue that the fan should have the ball, as the ball represents a significant moment in baseball history -- the fan paid money for that seat, caught a home run ball, and that's how this goes.  After all, who wouldn't want a ball with that much significance.  There are only four players with a claim to having 2,000 RBI for their career.  Isn't that part of the fan experience?  We want fans to be involved with the game and, according to Pujols, they should also enjoy having a part of history.  They paid the price of admission to have that opportunity.

The problem with this approach is that there is a chain-of-custody problem with the ball.  How can Major League Baseball, or anyone, for that matter, verify or authenticate if the ball is actually the ball?  Once the ball left the stadium, there really is no way to determine whether it's the actual ball that Pujols hit.  The ball would represent a personal victory for the fan, but that's where it ends.  It would have little-to-no-verified-value.  It's possible that, after sleeping on it, he made this realization.  He ultimately returned the ball after reflecting on the situation some. 

The shrewd part of me would have negotiated everything I could in exchange for the ball.  Tickets, memorabilia, access to the players, and so forth.  You're only going to get so many moments in life, you might as well get as much as you can out of that moment.  But that opinion makes me exceedingly less popular and I am okay with that.  At least my basement would be decked floor to ceiling in autographed memorabilia.