The Baseball

by Zack Hample

  1999 In the wake of Mark McGwire’s 70-homer season and the inevitable juiced-ball allegations, Rawlings and Major League Baseball gave $400,000 to the University of Massachusetts—Lowell to open a baseball research center.

  2000 There were 931 home runs hit in April 2000, a record for the season’s opening month. Major League Baseball executives responded by scheduling a tour of the Rawlings factory for May 22, 2000—a visit that happened to take place one day after hitters blasted 6 grand slams and 56 homers overall. “Those weren’t bad baseballs. Those were bad pitches,” said Sandy Alderson, the executive vice president of operations for Major League Baseball. Alderson also said that during the tour he and his crew hadn’t found anything wrong with the balls, and that MLB was considering raising the mound from 10 to 16 inches. On May 24, 2000, Bob Duffy of the Boston Globe wrote, “Even the bat boys seem to be on a 40-homer pace in this season of the sonic boom as baseballs dot the sky like snowflakes.” Blue Jays closer Billy Koch became a key player in the juiced-ball debate, first by cutting open a ball during a game in Oakland and claiming that the core was “like a Super Ball,” then by comparing it to a 1999 core with a series of drop tests in the Blue Jays’ clubhouse at SkyDome. The newer core, on average, bounced several inches higher every time. “I saw on ESPN that they’re talking about making some changes,” Koch said, “like raising the mound. Why? You got a guilty conscience? If they changed the ball, why not just say they changed the ball?” Rawlings president Howard B. Keene insisted there hadn’t been a change. “This place would literally have to shut down for weeks,” he said, “until we figured out how to make balls that were easier to hit over the fence. Even if [Major League] baseball asked us to change something, we’d have to look at each step of our process to figure out how we could accomplish it.” The baseball research center at the University of Massachusetts—Lowell finally got involved. A group of mechanical engineers tested dozens of balls from 1999 and 2000 by firing them with a pitching machine against a piece of white ash that was mounted on a concrete wall. James Sherwood, the director of the center, reported that the 1999 ball was “marginally livelier,” but according to Koch, the 2000 ball still favored the batter. He contended that the seams weren’t as high, a claim that was proven to be true by Diamondbacks pitching coach Mark Connor, who stuck his hand into a bucket of balls and, without looking, could tell the difference between 1999 balls and 2000 balls every time. Another hitter-friendly theory emerged about the 2000 balls: after the 1999 season, the entire logo of the baseball had been redesigned; starting in 2000, the words CUSHIONED CORK CENTER were replaced by a dark MLB logo that supposedly made it easier for batters to detect the spin on pitches.

  The MLB logo on the newly redesigned ball may have favored the hitters. (Photo Credit 6.9)

  2001 With help from a local radio station, Dennis Hilliard, the director of the crime lab at the University of Rhode Island, got five different fans to donate foul balls that they’d caught at major league games between 1963 and 2000. He and his team cut the balls open with band saws and scalpels, then dropped the cores from a height of 182 inches. The three oldest cores (from 1963, 1970, and 1989) bounced an average of 62 inches. The two newer cores (from 1995 and 2000) bounced an average of 82 inches—a 32.3 percent increase. “It’s very hard to control for age,” said Hilliard.12 “Without more tests, we can’t say anything conclusive.” Hilliard and a group of textile scientists did make a notable discovery about the yarn inside the 2000 ball: it appeared to contain a higher percentage of synthetic fibers than the rule book allowed.13 In other words, since the artificial wool was more durable but less resilient, Billy Koch and James Sherwood were both right: while the core from the 2000 ball that Koch bounced was livelier, the entire ball that Sherwood tested was not.

  2002 In an attempt to limit the number of home runs at Coors Field, the Rockies began storing their baseballs in a humidor (See chapter 8 for more). Down near sea level, a mini-juiced-ball debate broke out after Game 2 of the World Series in Anaheim. The Angels had beaten the Giants, 11–10, and the teams had combined for six home runs. In keeping with history, several players whined about the balls being too lively, and league executives denied it.

  2003 Rawlings was acquired for $84 million by K2 Inc., a Los Angeles—based sporting goods manufacturer (which decided to leave the Rawlings name on the balls). Meanwhile, the hard work of the Costa Rican baseball stitchers was going somewhat unnoticed. Cubs All-Star pitcher Mark Prior thought the balls were entirely machine-made, as did most other players who were interviewed by the Chicago Tribune—but to be fair, the factory workers didn’t know a whole lot about the Major Leagues. Yunerth Garcia, the supervisor of the stitching area, had never heard of Barry Bonds.

  2004 Rawlings manufactured approximately 2.2 million major league baseballs and sold an estimated $35 million worth of baseballs overall.

  2007 Universal Systems, Inc., a company based in Solon, Ohio, performed a CT scan on Mark McGwire’s 70th home run ball from 1998 and declared that it was juiced. According to company president David Zavagno, there was a mysterious synthetic rubber ring around an enlarged core that helped the ball travel farther—30 feet farther, to be specific—than the balls in use when Hank Aaron retired. “Bonds’ home run record,” said Zavagno, “along with other home run milestones by different players of his generation, should have an asterisk next to their statistics: ‘achieved with league-approved juiced baseball.’ ” Bob DuPuy, the president and chief operating officer of Major League Baseball, dismissed the claim. “All of our balls are subject to rigorous quality control standards and testing conducted by Rawlings,” he said. “No changes have been made to the core of the ball through the entire time they have manufactured it.”

  2009 Not all ball-related controversies are buried beneath the stitches. After suffering a late-season 6–1 loss in Cincinnati, Cardinals manager Tony La Russa accused the Reds of providing mud-free baseballs—and accused their starter Bronson Arroyo of using pine tar to get a better grip on them.14 Reds manager Dusty Baker didn’t appreciate the accusation. “Where I come from, man, you call somebody a cheater, you better know what you’re talking about,” he said after being told about it by a reporter. La Russa, as it turned out, had made his claim based on hard evidence: he had several balls in his possession from the game that were not rubbed up. Sure enough, Reds clubhouse attendant Mike Dillon (who was in charge of rubbing mud on the balls) acknowledged that something was fishy, although he personally denied responsibility. “That is all just stupid,” insisted Baker. “Nothing went on. News to me. I don’t believe in cheating.”

  2010 Rawlings sold major league baseballs through its website for $18.99 apiece.15

  2011 The idea of using one baseball for an entire game seems insane. Today the average life span of a major league ball is less than six pitches—kind of funny considering the balls are better than ever and could last a whole lot longer.

  1 “Avoirdupois” comes from Old French and literally means “goods of weight.” The word was first used in baseball’s rule book in the 1870s and for some reason still remains there.

  2 In 1846 the rules changed so that the first team to score 21 runs was the winner. Eleven years later, the rules changed again and the length of the game was set at nine innings.

  3 A chamois is a goat-antelope. In the 19th century, chamois leather was commonly used for gloves—not baseball gloves, just regular gloves—for both men and women.

  4 In 1877, Spalding appeared in 60 games as an infielder, but pitched just 11 innings. The following season, he played just one game at second base, went 2-for-4 with a pair of singles, and committed four errors.

  5 Tim Keefe, a future Hall of Famer who compiled 342 career wins, pitched in the Players League and went 17-11. Buck Becannon, a guy you’ve almost certainly never heard of, went 3-8 with a 5.93 ERA in 11 career starts and played his last game in 1887.

  6 The Brooklyn Dodgers were called the Superbas from 1899 through 1910.

 
; 7 Like, duh, hand the trash to a ballboy?

  8 In 1918 the Major Leagues drew 3,080,126 fans, the lowest total since 1900, when there was only one league.

  9 Prior to 1931, the batter was credited with a sacrifice fly (and therefore not charged with a hitless at-bat) when a runner tagged up and advanced from any base; starting in 1931 a sac fly was awarded only if the runner scored. And that’s not all. Prior to 1930, the batter was credited with a home run if he hit a ball that bounced over the outfield fence; the American League changed these would-be homers to doubles in 1930, and the National League followed suit one year later.

  10 1968 is known as “the Year of the Pitcher.” Bob Gibson posted a microscopic 1.12 ERA, and Denny McLain became the last 30-game winner.

  11 Shea Stadium, which closed after the 2008 season, had four seating levels: field, loge, mezzanine, and upper. The upper deck was so high that just a handful of foul balls reached the front-row seats behind home plate each season. According to Greg Rybarczyk, founder of the seminal home run—measuring website Hit Tracker, Agee’s shot traveled 450 to 475 feet.

  12 Really?!

  13 The rules capped the synthetic fiber content at 18 percent. Hilliard’s team gathered the shredded yarn windings and placed them in a heated bleach solution. This caused the natural woolly fibers to dissolve while leaving the synthetic fibers intact. The team then determined that the synthetic portion may have accounted for as much as 21.6 percent.

  14 This wasn’t the first time that La Russa accused an opposing pitcher of using pine tar. In Game 2 of the 2006 World Series, Tigers starter Kenny Rogers was seen with a mysterious brown smudge on the palm of his hand; one inning after La Russa reported it to the umps, the smudge mysteriously vanished. But let’s not be too quick to call La Russa a complainer, and let’s not put all the blame on Rogers and Arroyo. There’ve been countless examples throughout baseball history of pitchers doctoring the ball. Bobby Mathews, a diminutive right-hander who began his professional career in the late 1860s, is believed to have invented the spitball. Tommy Bond, a curveball pioneer in the 1870s, used glycerin to add extra movement to his pitches. Red Faber and Eddie Cicotte, star pitchers for Chicago around the time of the Black Sox scandal, threw the shineball by using an oily substance that teams sprayed on the field to prevent the dirt and dust from blowing around. Lew Burdette, a two-time All-Star in the 1950s, used the sweat from his forehead and eyebrows to gain an edge. Hall of Famer Gaylord Perry, a champion spitballer from the 1960s to the 1980s, threw a “puff ball” late in his career by using powder from the rosin bag behind the mound. And so on. There have also been lots of big-name pitchers who have scuffed the ball in various ways, including Hall of Famers Whitey Ford, Don Sutton, and Phil Niekro.

  15 Plus $6.99 for shipping and handling.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE RAWLINGS METHOD

  (DE)CONSTRUCTING THE BALL

  It’s hard to take apart a baseball. The cover is perfectly smooth. The stitches are deceptively tight. There’s nothing to grab on to, no easy way to get inside. You need tools—sharp tools—and a whole lot of patience. Nail clippers work best, at least at the start. You basically have to pick at one of the stitches until it starts to loosen and fray. This is the toughest part. It might take a minute or two, especially if you take extra care not to damage the cover, and then you’ll have to repeat the process a few more times, cutting each stitch as you go. Eventually, you’ll be able to wedge the tip of the clipper’s nail file underneath the seam. Wiggle it around. Twist it back and forth. Pry up the cover. Try to peel it back and poke a fingertip inside. The ball will put up a good fight—the stitches will cling to the cover like weeds grip the earth—but you can beat it. Continue cutting the stitches—or better yet, simply undo them by pulling the thread out through the tiny holes.

  Once you remove the cover, you’ll have a rock-hard ball of thin, white string. It kind of looks like dental floss, but feels much softer. Find the end and start unraveling it. Keep going. And going. And going. And then keep going some more. There’s an unbelievable amount of string and yarn inside each ball—so much, in fact, that for a moment, you might think it’ll never end.

  Dismantling a baseball is much harder than you’d think. (Photo Credit 7.1)

  Like a layer of vanilla ice cream giving way to a scoop of chocolate underneath, a darker color will emerge as you work your way deeper toward the core of the ball. Gray yarn—that’s what it is. It’s much thicker and coarser than the white string, so don’t bother saving it. It won’t make a good scarf. The same is true for the tan yarn underneath it, as well as the even thicker gray yarn underneath that.

  Finally, after unraveling all four layers, you’ll be left with a hard, reddish rubber sphere that’s slightly smaller than a ping-pong ball. Hold it tight (ideally in a vise or with an adjustable wrench) and carefully cut it open. There are two thin layers of rubber—one red, one black—surrounding an even smaller black ball made of something that vaguely resembles cork. This is your “cushioned cork center.”

  To say that major league baseballs are “made” in Costa Rica isn’t entirely true. The fact is that all the materials—the cork, rubber, yarn, stitches, and cowhide—get shipped to the Rawlings factory from North America.1 It’s more accurate, therefore, to say that baseballs are “assembled” in Costa Rica. Here’s a closer look at each part of the manufacturing process.

  THE PILL

  The red rubber sphere, officially known as “the pill,” is made by a company called Hultec in San José, Costa Rica. Hultec gets the rubber from Goodyear. Goodyear gets it from Indonesia. And like all the other materials inside the ball, there’s a specific amount that gets used. The red layer measures 1/10 of an inch thick, and the black layer underneath it measures 0.15 inches—that much we know, but its composition remains a mystery. During the process in which the rubber gets melted, Hultec adds a bunch of secret powders and other ingredients.

  The tiny dark gray ball at the very center of the pill, aka “the pellet,” consists of rubber and finely granulated cork. These two materials are compressed into a sphere that measures 13/16 of an inch in diameter. Hultec gets the cork from a company called Maryland Cork, which imports it from Portugal. The inside of the pill consists of four separate pieces that get assembled by hand.

  The four pieces inside the pill (Photo Credit 7.2)

  In addition to the pellet, the black layer is made of two halves, and there’s a thin, red rubber ring that looks like a washer. The pellet is placed into one of the halves, the ring fits snugly around it, and the other half is placed on top to encapsulate it. This entire four-piece unit then gets put into a cooker of sorts that molds the outer red layer around it. That’s your pill—and Hultec, on average, trucks more than 40,000 of them per week to the Rawlings factory in nearby Turrialba.

  MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE

  It’s not easy to find the Rawlings factory, and it’s even harder to get inside. For starters, it’s a two-hour drive from San José, beginning on a major highway and ending up in what might feel like the middle of nowhere. The smaller roads, paved but often unmarked, snake past mountainous farmland and unfenced livestock. GPS devices? Not all that helpful. The factory does not have an official street address; its location is known simply as “behind the Rafael Camacho Stadium.”

  If you’re lucky enough to find the factory, you’ll have to settle for photographing it through a barbed wire fence. The place is guarded 24 hours a day, and it’s absolutely, positively, definitely not open to the public. It’s not even open to the media, for the most part, and the entrance is so secure that high-ranking Rawlings executives visiting from the United States must present their passports just to enter the parking lot.

  Outside the Rawlings baseball factory in Turrialba, Costa Rica (Photo Credit 7.3)

  The one-story factory—78,016-square feet in all—looks rather ordinary from the outside. It’s an off-white building. There are several large Rawlings logos on the wall. There are also a few pal
m trees scattered about. So why all the fuss? It’s because Rawlings has an exclusive (yet temporary) contract to supply the official major league baseball. That’s the only type of ball made at the factory in Costa Rica, and some of the manufacturing techniques are top secret.

  THE WINDING ROOM

  There’s one room in the factory that’s completely off-limits to photographers—a place so restricted that most visitors don’t even get to see it. It’s called the winding room, and as the name suggests, it’s where the yarn (which comes from Rhode Island) and thread (which comes from Canada) get wound around the pill.

  The room isn’t huge, at least in terms of what you might expect inside a factory that churns out more than 8,000 balls per day. Nevertheless, it’s big enough for several dozen employees and a two-day supply of yarn, stacked in spools around the edges on metal shelves from floor to ceiling. Because it doubles as a storage unit, the room is kept at 70 degrees Fahrenheit with a relative humidity of 50 percent.

  “If this room was not air-conditioned, a hot day would dry the yarn and a rainy day would moisten it,” said factory manager Alejandro Cotter. “Costa Rica is a tropical country, so we want to make sure the weather does not influence the ball.”

  The main attraction of the winding room is the machinery—48 individual winding machines that were built by Rawlings engineers and therefore don’t exist anywhere else in the world. The machines are arranged in groups of six—two for the inner layer, one for each of the middle layers, and two more for the outer layer of the “center.” That’s what the ball is called during this phase of the manufacturing process. The room essentially has eight work stations (though one remains unused as a backup); each station has six machines, and every two machines are operated by one employee.