David Ortiz and the story of his 500th home run ball

Catching a historic ball can be a life-changing moment and opportunity for a fan. Here’s what happened to the 500th home run of David Ortiz.

Alan Schuster, a 35-year-old IT guy, belonged to no team and had no official position, but he was ready to make a play, a major league play. Schuster was standing with his well-worn Mizuno glove in the right-center field seats of Tropicana Field. Meanwhile, David Ortiz — Big Papi — was at bat, going for his 500th home run, a feat that only 26 players had accomplished.

Alan Schuster was the 10th fielder.

It was the top of the fifth. Matt Moore was on the hill for the Rays, and the count was 2-2. With two strikes, Big Papi didn’t shorten his stroke, and he connected. Even now, almost seven years later, Alan can still hear the crack of the bat. As an outfielder on his high school state championship team in Virginia, he was adept at judging fly balls. No doubt, this ball was a home run. It was just a matter of whether he’d catch it on the fly.

When 500 collided with the seats, about 15 rows from the outfield wall. Alan was mere strides away. He and a pack of other fans converged, but 500 somehow eluded all, falling down a row and disappearing. Moments later, it miraculously appeared and rolled directly to the aisle and Alan, to his utter disbelief. He quickly lunged under the seat, snared it and stuffed 500 into his Mizuno. He pulled both hands into his chest and braced himself for a scrum. Two or three fans came within inches of Alan’s face, but they quickly retreated, leaving him in the fetal position. 500 was safely tucked away.

Big Papi’s historic 500th home run belonged to Alan Schuster

As his fear of having 500 snatched away dissipated, Alan stood up, and triumphantly thrust it in the air and screamed “YEAH!” at top of his lungs. Before Big Papi had even touched home plate, an usher and two police officers approached him. “You’re gonna need to come with us,” one of them ordered. Alan, who was familiar with the milestone baseball process, obliged.

As he was escorted out of the stands, he reveled in the glorious moment. Back in college, Alan had taken a shot at athletic immortality, attempting to walk on the Furman University baseball team. He played well, well enough to make the team, at least in his mind. He made it through fall ball but he wound up being one of the team’s final cuts. Eventually, Alan co-founded Furman’s club baseball team. In some way, this moment gave him an incredible sense of validation and triumph. As he showed off the historic ball, he high-fived everyone. At some point, he made an insane face to someone who was photographing him.

When Alan arrived in the bowels of Tropicana, his jubilation quickly turned to anxiety. 500 was more than a ball. 500 was history, a piece of memorabilia that was worth six figures. For all intents and purposes, he had gone to a baseball game and won the lottery.

Now what?

No doubt, the Red Sox and Big Papi wanted 500. Of course, Alan wanted 500 too.

What was he going to do?

Just as he was being escorted into the Red Sox clubhouse, Red Sox shortstop Hanley Ramirez bolted out to the hallway, giddy with excitement. He held out a baseball to Alan, smiling mischievously.

Is Hanley Ramirez trying to trade a random baseball for 500?

“No thanks, man,” Alan replied awkwardly. After a moment, he realized that he had it all wrong. Hanley wanted to prank Papi and pretend that the decoy ball was 500.

In the clubhouse, two Red Sox representatives in perfectly ironed polos and khakis were waiting for him. They smiled, shook his hand firmly and congratulated him. Then, the man of the evening, entered. Once again, Alan was in awe. Minutes ago, he was watching Big Papi from 400 feet away. Now, Big Papi was shaking his hand listening to what he had to say, which wasn’t much. Alan was still in a state of shock. Regardless, Ortiz got a good laugh that Alan, a long-time Orioles fan, was wearing an Orioles jersey. Soon after, Ortiz excused himself without mentioning 500.

Following Big Papi’s exit, one of the Red Sox reps got down to business. “We’d love for David to get the ball back. We’ve got a bunch of signed jerseys and bats we can give you in exchange.”

Alan was prepared for this offer, and without hesitation, he asked for some time to mull things over and call his wife, Jennifer, a high school guidance counselor.

At this moment, Alan needed guidance.

The Red Sox reps promptly found a private room with a desk and a leather couch for him. “Take as much time as you need,” they said. After the door was shut, he reached into his backpack and pulled out 500.  It had “D4” stamped on it, which signified that it was the fourth ball put in play for David Ortiz’s attempt at 500.

As Alan tried to relax, he took a moment to strategize. Unlike a lot of casual fans, he wasn’t naïve to 500’s value. In 1996, Eddie Murray’s 500th home run sold for $280,000. Yes, a lot of money was at stake. Obviously, he needed to discuss with Jennifer. Unfortunately, he got her voicemail. He assumed she was getting their three-year-old daughter, Nora, ready for bed.  Jennifer’s not a baseball fan, so he left a very deliberate message.

As Alan waited for Jennifer’s reply, he reached out to Zack Hample, the best 10th fielder in baseball history. Zack’s prolific ball hawking had inspired Alan to create his website, mygameballs.com, a site dedicated to snagging balls.

Just a few months earlier, Zack had received international attention for snagging Alex Rodriguez’s 3,000th hit, a home run to right field at Yankee Stadium. After a week of tense negotiations, Zack and the Yankees reached a deal. A-Rod got the ball, and the Yankees agreed to donate $150,000 to Zack’s charity, Pitch In For Baseball, which helps underprivileged kids. Alan had exchanged countless emails with Zack over the previous six years, and they had built a nice repartee. However, when Alan explained that he had just snagged Big Papi’s 500th dinger, Zack was skeptical.

“You’re not messing with me, are you?” Zack asked.  “You really got the ball?”

“Yeah man, it’s 100 percent legit. I’m in a random room right now in the clubhouse trying to figure out what to do.”

Still, Zack wasn’t completely convinced.

Later, Alan learned that Zack thought someone had put me up to pranking him. Ballhawks are known to prank one another from time to time, just like ballplayers. But as he continued to stick to his story, Zack gradually came around. When he asked for advice, Zack was succinct. “Whatever you do,” he said, “Don’t let anyone rush your decision.”

As Alan continued to take this all in, there was a knock at the door. It was a representative from the Tampa Bay Rays and a few off-duty police officers. The rep explained that it was his job to ensure Alan made it back to his car safely. The officers would serve as his security team. When he heard that, he immediately thought of Cubs fan Steve Bartman and all the unpleasantness he’d endured.

Alan’s phone rang: Jennifer.

After requesting some privacy, he updated her.

“The Red Sox want the ball.  I’m trying to figure out what to do. We need to discuss and make a decision.”

“I mean it’s his accomplishment; he should get the ball,” Jennifer replied, no hesitation.

“Yes, but I’m not sure you understand how valuable this ball is,” Alan responded.  “We’re talking over $100,000.”

He expected Jennifer to immediately backtrack on her decision, but she didn’t.  “Okay, it’s just money,” she said. “It’s his ball. He deserves it. The right thing is to give it back.”

A deal is reached for David Ortiz’s 500th home run ball

As he digested his wife’s decision, a team of Tampa Bay Rays public relations representatives entered. They informed Alan that about 20 reporters were outside, and they wanted a statement. Immediately, he felt a pit in his stomach. He was a private guy, and he wasn’t interested in trending on Twitter, even if it would assist his website. Also, he hadn’t forgotten how during the A-Rod episode, Zack was relentlessly savaged by the media, even after the enormous charitable donation. And then there was Steve Bartman, who went into seclusion for years after his unfortunate foul ball incident. Ultimately, Alan decided to reject the media requests. It was easier that way.

Eventually, Alan was escorted to a wide, empty hallway outside the clubhouse. As he waited, Aaron, Jeff and Marshall — Alan’s long-time friends who he’d gone to the game with — came around the corner, a police officer by their side. While Alan trekked out to right center to take a shot at 500, they’d opted to stay in their second-row seats behind the Red Sox dugout. Earlier, Alan had asked the Rays PR guys if they could join him in the clubhouse. When his friends saw him, the guys ran over to him for a delirious celebration of hugs and high fives. Eventually, they got around to discussing 500.

Jeff, a physical therapist, suggested that Alan hire a lawyer.

Youth pastor Marshall wanted World Series tickets in exchange for 500.

If Aaron, a project manager, had any advice, he conspicuously kept it to himself.

Regardless, Alan told his friends that he had it covered.

And moments later, Alan notified the Red Sox that he was ready to talk turkey. Within minutes, he was in a closed-door meeting. “What you got?” one of the Red Sox reps asked. Alan didn’t flinch. Big Papi would get 500. Immediately. It was his accomplishment, his baseball. Jennifer was right.

But Alan wanted a few perks.

Treading lightly, he broached the All-Star Game. Promptly, the Red Sox agreed to send Alan and his friends to both the All-Star Game and the Home Run Derby at PETCO Park in San Diego the following season. As they confirmed this agreement with MLB, the Red Sox reps told Alan and friends to make themselves comfortable in the clubhouse, where Ortiz was sitting by his locker, autographing baseballs and other memorabilia.

Meanwhile, Hanley Ramirez was busy putting together a mini celebration, complete with a “Congrats Papi” cake. Big Papi seemed to be avoiding any further engagement with him at this point. Alan assumed he didn’t want to get involved in the negotiations.

Hanley joked with Alan that he was trying to get Big Papi’s signature gold chain thrown into the deal.  “Nah, I’m actually trying to get a role in his next documentary,” Alan replied, referencing the documentary, David Ortiz: In the Moment, which Alan had recently watched. He thought it was a good reference, however, no one reacted in the slightest. This was his first attempt at humorous clubhouse chatter — and he whiffed.

Another player hanging around was Wade Miley, a veteran pitcher who wound up spending one season with the Sox. Wade was extremely friendly, and he struck up a conversation with him, but it felt awkward, at least to Wade. At one point, he looked at Alan and remarked, “Dude, you look nervous.”

Yes, Alan was extremely nervous.

But who wouldn’t be? He had just snagged 500.  He was in a major league clubhouse for the first time. He was part of The Show, well, kind of. Ultimately, Wade’s offhand comment loosened Alan up. Now, he could hit away, so to speak.

After the Red Sox reps informed Alan that the All-Star Game deal had been approved, everyone shook hands, sealing the deal. Done. Alan was relieved. For the official exchange, he and his friends were led to yet another small private room where Ortiz was waiting. Big Papi shook everyone’s hand, chatted, signed autographs, and took pictures. Meanwhile, MLB was authenticating 500. It didn’t take long for the authenticators to determine that Alan’s ball was legitimate. Everything was a go. But just as the ceremony was about to begin, his phone rang.

Jennifer.

Was she having second thoughts about 500?

Absolutely not.

However, the 35-year-old IT guy in the Orioles jersey had made an error — a major error. In all the excitement, he had forgotten to inform Jennifer how everything had wound up. Alan stepped away and told Jennifer that he was just about to present Big Papi his ball and about attending next year’s All-Star Game in San Diego. “That’s awesome!” Jennifer replied.  “I can’t wait to go!”

Immediately, his heart sank.

Jennifer had never expressed any desire to come on one of his baseball trips, so it hadn’t dawned on him to include her. But, of course, this was an entirely different animal.  Of course, Jennifer and Nora wanted in. “Yeah, it’s gonna be great,” Alan said, playing along. Meanwhile, he was dying. After Alan said good night to Jennifer, he knew what had to be done, as painful as it would be. He nervously pulled one of the Red Sox reps aside.

“Hey man, I hate to do this,” he began. “But my wife and daughter want to come too.  I’m sorry. I just didn’t think they’d be interested.”

Alan prepared for the worst.

“Yeah, no problem,” the rep said without hesitation. “They can come along.”

Exhale.

In addition, the Red Sox wound up sending Nora a Green Monster stuffed animal and various other Red Sox toys. After Nora received the package, she officially became a Red Sox fan, thwarting Alan’s efforts to make her an Orioles fan. But he was fine with this. He was now a bit of a Red Sox fan too.

After Alan handed over the ball to Big Papi, as well as some more group photos, it was clear that he and his crew had overstayed their welcome — and then some. But just as they were exiting, there was some commotion. It was the Red Sox entering the clubhouse following their 10-4 victory. It was a meaningless game in September, but the players were genuinely ecstatic. As they walked by, he and his friends gave them high fives and fist bumps. Alan’s most memorable exchange was an enthusiastic forearm bash with Dustin Pedroia.

As previously arranged, the police escorted Alan and friends out of Tropicana to their car, which was parked a good half mile from the stadium. He and his pals never paid for parking. Besides a lady asking, well, screaming if she could “just touch the ball,” all was peaceful and quiet thanks to Alan’s disguise, a Rays jersey.

After being dropped off, the group headed to a quiet hole-in-the-wall bar.  As the friends enjoyed some food and drink, they checked out Big Papi home run highlights. Alan had done it — his name wasn’t anywhere, nor his picture. The mysterious man in the Orioles jersey appeared in one highlight clip but just barely. If you looked very closely, you could spot Alan running down the stairs as 500 was in flight, But no one could tell who wound up with the ball. A few outlets reported that Big Papi had spoken highly of Alan, which made him feel good.

Ultimately, he had accomplished what he intended — He did not trend on Twitter. Alan had a chance at 15 minutes — or in this day and age 15 seconds — but took a pass. It was Big Papi’s night, Big Papi’s accomplishment, and he deserved all the attention and the actual ball.

When Alan Schuster was ready, he’d tell his story.