KARL LINDHOLM HOLDS a captivating wooden replica of a baseball that carries profound significance for him, reflecting not only a beloved game but also treasured memories.
Any baseball is beautiful. No other small package comes as close to the ideal design and utility. . . . Pick it up and it instantly suggests its purpose; it is meant to be thrown a considerable distance — thrown hard and with precision.
— Roger Angell, “Extra Innings: A Baseball Companion”
Local artist Kate Gridley described a unique exercise she employs with her art students: “I ask them to bring to class an object, an artifact, anything that holds particular significance in their lives. I encourage them to share the story behind that object. Then I invite them to spend some time drawing it, capturing something they truly love.”
While not officially one of her students, this idea has resonated deeply with me. What cherished item would I bring to her class if I were participating?
I would bring a remarkably crafted baseball to Kate’s class.
Not just any baseball, but a distinct wooden representation of the game’s beloved sphere—a sculpture that I hold dear. It’s slightly smaller than a regulation ball, which typically weighs between 5 to 5 1/2 ounces and measures 9 to 9 1/2 inches in circumference. One side of this exquisite piece is delicately etched with “JMC,” signifying its origin, while the opposite side proudly displays “2010.” Its glossy glaze enhances its beauty and charm.
It features a slender gold tassel that allows it to be displayed elegantly, yet it remains firmly stationed on the mantelpiece in my home, nestled in the high-traffic area between the living and dining spaces—never relegated to a seasonal decoration like a holiday ornament.
This wooden baseball serves as an idealized representation of the game; it is a work of art that functions as a talisman of sorts. I acquired it during my inaugural experience at the Jerry Malloy Negro Leagues SABR Conference (Society of American Baseball Research) in Birmingham in 2010, which explains the markings “JMC” and “2010.”
In my quest for the background of this lovely facsimile baseball, I consulted my friend Gary Starr, an extraordinary bird carver. He speculated that it was carved from the prized Tupelo tree, known to thrive in swampy conditions and often sought after by the finest carvers around the globe. Its surface was finished to a satin varnish, and the stitches were meticulously crafted using a burning tool, similar to the one Gary employs for his bird carvings.
By 2010, my dedication to studying baseball, particularly the Negro Leagues, had been ongoing for several years, and I was even teaching a course on baseball within the American Studies Program at Middlebury College, aptly titled: “Segregation in America: Baseball and Race.” My attendance at the Birmingham conference solidified my passion and experiences related to the game.
During the conference, we toured the historic Rickwood Field, established a century earlier in 1910—now recognized as North America’s oldest existing ballpark. This field has been transformed into a museum-like tribute to Black baseball in Birmingham and still remains an active venue for play. The legendary Willie Mays, widely considered the greatest player of all time, hails from Birmingham and began his illustrious career at Rickwood.
In 2010, the columnist attended his first Jerry Malloy Negro Leagues Conference in Birmingham, Ala., and visited Rickwood Field, the oldest ballpark in continuous use in America.
Photo by Karl Lindholm
We also made meaningful visits to the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute and the historically significant Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, which was bombed by domestic terrorists in 1963, resulting in the tragic deaths of four young girls. Additionally, we explored the Alabama Sports Hall of Fame, honoring legendary players from Alabama, including Hank Aaron, Satchel Paige, Mule Suttles, Willie McCovey, Ozzie Smith, and Billy Williams.
Growing up in Maine during the 1950s, I was a baseball-obsessed child captivated by the sport’s golden age. Although the racially resistant Red Sox were my local team, I found myself enthralled by the integration saga of Jackie Robinson and other pioneering Black players. The backdrop of the Civil Rights Movement during the 1960s loomed large over my formative high school and college years. In 1971, I discovered Robert Peterson’s influential book, “Only the Ball was White,” which ignited a lifelong fascination with the elusive narrative of Black baseball.
Fortuitously, I was able to offer a course at Middlebury on the Negro Leagues and the broader context of Black baseball, embodying the essence of Robert Frost’s sentiment in “Two Tramps in Mud Time,” where he expresses the joy of uniting one’s avocation with vocation.
This gleaming wooden baseball not only symbolizes my enduring love for the game but also serves as a reminder of the preciousness of baseballs during my youth. We cherished our baseballs, playing with the same one repeatedly until the cover wore off, only to tape the innards with black electrical tape and continue playing.
The baseball, this magical orb—the actual baseball that embody Angell’s perfect fusion of design and utility—has remained fundamentally unchanged for nearly a century. Constructed with a cork core, encased in two narrow bands of rubber and 379 yards of woolen yarn, each baseball is sheathed in two figure-eight pieces of horse or cowhide, expertly hand-stitched in Costa Rica with striking red thread. Remarkably, it has retained the same specifications with 108 double stitches since 1934.
“Not any old baseball, not one of the scuffed balls hanging around the house here and there, or one of the faded autographed balls that have come my way over a lifetime, or one of the shiny new ones, not yet (and perhaps never to be) scuffed and grass-stained.”
The brilliance lies in those 108 stitches, which enable a firm grip, allowing skilled players to deliver pitches with such force that they can dip and dart in the air, making them exceptionally challenging to hit. The legendary Satchel Paige famously stated that his best pitch was “a bat dodger.” Mastery over the grip and release of the ball is where the artistry lies.
Reflecting on my life journey as a fan, an amateur player, an aspiring writer, and a dedicated teacher, I am often reminded of the wisdom imparted by Jim Bouton, the iconic Yankee pitcher and author of the groundbreaking baseball memoir, “Ball Four.”
“You spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”
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Karl Lindholm Ph.D. is the Emeritus Dean of Advising and Assistant Professor of American Literature at Middlebury College (retired). He can be contacted at [email protected].
**Interview with Karl Lindholm: The Significance of a Wooden Baseball**
**Editor:** Welcome, Karl! Thank you for joining us today. You’ve shared with us the heartfelt significance of a wooden baseball you own. Can you tell us more about what makes this specific piece so special to you?
**Karl Lindholm:** Thank you for having me! This wooden baseball is more than just an object; it’s a representation of many cherished memories and experiences. I acquired it during my first Jerry Malloy Negro Leagues Conference in 2010, which was a pivotal moment in my understanding of Black baseball history. The fact that it’s beautifully crafted and marked with “JMC” and “2010” reminds me not only of the conference but also of the passion I have for studying baseball and its cultural impact.
**Editor:** You mentioned that this baseball is a work of art. Can you describe the materials and craftsmanship involved?
**Karl Lindholm:** Absolutely! My friend Gary Starr, a talented bird carver, speculated that it was carved from the prized Tupelo tree, which is sought after for its beauty and quality in the carving community. The stitches were crafted with a burning tool, giving it a unique texture and depth. The glossy glaze adds to its charm, making it a stunning piece to display in my home.
**Editor:** It sounds like this baseball carries a rich history. How did attending the Jerry Malloy Conference influence your perspective on baseball, especially in relation to the Negro Leagues?
**Karl Lindholm:** Attending the conference deepened my appreciation for the history of Black baseball, which I’ve been studying for years. Visiting Rickwood Field, the oldest ballpark in America, and learning about its connection to players like Willie Mays was profound. It was educational, emotional, and connected me with a community passionate about preserving this crucial aspect of baseball history. My experiences there inspired me to teach a course on baseball and race at Middlebury College, allowing me to share that knowledge with students.
**Editor:** You also touched on personal memories tied to baseball from your childhood. How do those experiences shape your relationship with the sport today?
**Karl Lindholm:** Growing up in Maine during the 1950s, baseball was my world. I was captivated by the integration stories of players like Jackie Robinson, and those narratives intertwined with the Civil Rights Movement influenced my understanding of race and sport. That childhood love for baseball and the memories of playing with friends provide a nostalgic framework through which I view the game today. It’s not just a pastime; it’s a connection to history and community.
**Editor:** It’s inspiring to see how a simple object can embody such a rich tapestry of memories and histories. Before we wrap up, what do you hope people take away from understanding the significance of the Jerry Malloy Negro Leagues Conference and artifacts like your wooden baseball?
**Karl Lindholm:** I hope people come to see that baseball, particularly the history of the Negro Leagues, is a vital part of American culture. These artifacts are not just collectibles; they serve as bridges to understand the past and the contributions of Black players to the sport. I encourage everyone to share their stories and connections to baseball because it enriches our understanding of both the game and society as a whole.
**Editor:** Thank you, Karl, for sharing your insights and the meaningful connection you have with your wooden baseball and the Jerry Malloy Conference. It’s a reminder of the deep layers of history embedded in our national pastime.