One day in March 2019, John Robinson, the owner of Resolution Photomatching, received a request from a private sports memorabilia collector in New Jersey. The man hoped that Robinson’s company — one of the leaders in the nascent field of using photographs to authenticate memorabilia — could confirm one of the most precious items in his collection.
The piece in question was a road Yankees jersey said to be worn by Babe Ruth in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series, the day of the Bambino’s “called shot” against the Cubs at Wrigley Field.
According to Robinson, the company conducted its standard three-round research process and came away with a verdict: Per their standards, it was not a match.
The story of Ruth’s “called shot” — and the decades of debate it inspired — remains one of the most famous moments in baseball history. But the tale of the jersey he may have been wearing that day is almost as fascinating. It has also been a subject of discussion for years, researched by jersey experts and amateur historians, and analyzed using cutting-edge methods. On Saturday, the jersey is expected to become the most expensive piece of game-worn sports memorabilia in history, fetching close to $20 million or more at a Heritage Auction. The previous record was held by a Michael Jordan 1998 NBA Finals jersey that sold for nearly $10.1 million in 2022.
But the decision by Resolution Photomatching — one of the leaders in the industry — has offered a sliver of doubt, creating a stir in collector’s circles and offering a window into the world of photomatching, where private companies play referee in the high-stakes world of memorabilia auctions, increasing an item’s value with a simple yes. In an interview last week, Chris Ivy, the director of sports auctions at Heritage, said it was “unfortunate that a company like Resolution would want to come out and say something like that.”
“We’re 100 percent confident that this jersey is an authentic 1932 Babe Ruth game-worn jersey,” he said, “and we’re 100 percent confident that it’s the jersey he was wearing in game three of the 1932 World Series for his ‘called shot.’”
Robinson, who founded Resolution in 2016, sees his company’s ruling as “upholding the standards of photomatching in general.” But multiple other photomatching companies — including MeiGray, an industry rival — have declared the jersey a match. The evidence — the photos, details and conclusions — is readily available at the item’s Heritage Auction listing. But for many in the industry, it raised questions about how much uncertainty is acceptable. How much doubt can be tolerated when the price tag might reach $30 million?
In the years after the 1932 World Series, the jersey Ruth wore during Game 3 disappeared. The era of instant authentication was decades away. The National Baseball Hall of Fame did not yet exist. The jersey — made with heavy gray flannel that weighed around seven ounces and featuring midnight navy felt that spelled out “New York” — was not an iconic piece of American history. It was just laundry.
Until one day in 1990, when a road Yankees jersey was found in Florida.
One thing that is not in dispute: Babe Ruth hit two home runs in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series. The first came against Cubs starter Charlie Root in the first inning with two runners on. The second is perhaps the most famous in baseball history. It came in the top of the fifth with nobody on and the score tied 4-4. Root, who won 15 games that year, was still on the mound.
It had been a heated series. New York players were furious that Cubs infielder Mark Koenig — a former member of the Yankees’ “Murderer’s Row” — was voted to receive only a half-share of the World Series bonus. “We were givin’ them (the Cubs) hell about how cheap they were,” Ruth later told The Chicago Daily News.
What happened next is still a matter of some debate. When the count reached 2-2, the United Press wrote that “Ruth motioned to the Cubs’ dugout that he was going to hit one out of the park.” The New York Daily News, meanwhile, said that Ruth “merely held up two fingers to the Cubs’ dugout to show that there was still another pitch coming to him.”
In the only surviving footage from the game, Ruth can be seen motioning toward the Cubs’ dugout along the third-base line. “I didn’t point to any spot,” Ruth would say later, according to the Chicago Daily News. “But as long as I’d called the first two strikes on myself, I had to go through with it.”
Ruth, of course, understood the power of myth, and once the story had legs, he spent years repeating all manner of versions. The embellishments often came from teammates.
The Babe Ruth jersey up for auction. (Courtesy of Heritage Auctions)
“All of us players could see it was a helluva good story,” Bill Dickey, the Yankees catcher, told The Washington Post’s Shirley Povich, according to the columnist’s memoir, “All These Mornings.” “So we just made an agreement not to bother straightening out the facts.”
Ruth did hit a towering home run. The Yankees won the World Series in four games. What happened to his jersey, however, was an even bigger mystery. That is, until a well-known collector named Andy Imperato purchased an old road Yankees jersey from a woman in Florida around 1990. According to the official story, the woman’s father had received the jersey from Ruth after a round of golf. Imperato turned around and sold the jersey to another private collector for $150,000. (Imperato did not respond to multiple requests from The Athletic.)
In 1999, the jersey was consigned back to Grey Flannel Auctions — where Imperato was a co-founder — and advertised for auction as a 1930 Ruth road uniform. It sold for $284,000 and was eventually loaned to the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum in Baltimore. When the jersey returned to Grey Flannel again in 2005 the company elected to do additional research, which is how it became touted as the uniform Ruth was wearing on Oct. 1, 1932, the day of the “called shot.”
The change led to questions in the baseball community. Marc Okkonen, an amateur uniform maven turned author, studied the evidence around the jersey and concluded that it “had to have been worn by the Bambino when he connected with his famous ‘called shot.’” Others, including Michael Heffner, the president of Lelands, expressed measured skepticism. It was just as difficult to prove it wasn’t the jersey as to confirm it was. (“This memorabilia business is a racket,” Bob Feller, the famously crusty Cleveland ace, told The New York Daily News.) Nevertheless, the price soared. It sold for $940,000 to Richard C. Angrist, an ophthalmologist from New Jersey, who later loaned the jersey to the Yankees for a public display at the team’s museum.
Angrist had grown up a devoted Mets fan but diversified his interests when, in the 1980s, he started collecting baseballs signed by Hall of Famers. The Mets delivered nostalgia; the Yankees provided terrific ROI. By 2019, he had spent more than a decade trying to further corroborate the authenticity of the road Ruth jersey through various means. In the only public interview he has done on his collection — given to an ophthalmologist professional society — Angrist said he used “the services of a two-time Emmy award-winning producer, editor, director, and videographer” to help authenticate his items. (Angrist could not be reached for comment, and Heritage would not confirm the seller of the Ruth jersey.)
In 2008, Angrist paid to have Dave Grob, the policy director at Memorabilia Evaluation and Research Services, re-evaluate the jersey. After studying the evidence, Grob believed it was “most likely the one and the same.”
But the rise of photomatching — the practice of side-by-side analysis by experts — as an industry standard left him with another avenue for authentication. So he submitted the jersey to Resolution for the first time in 2019. Resolution had been founded by Robinson, who grew up in the Seattle area collecting game-used bats by Mariners players like Mark McLemore and Bret Boone. He had come across the concept of photomatching on internet message boards that concerned memorabilia, and when he graduated from the University of Washington in 2016, he saw a void in the emerging market.
The Resolution method consists of a three-round process that incorporates an 11-person team, more than 35 image databases and what Robinson calls a “comparison analysis process.” The approach relies on identifying characteristics on the item and the photos that are, in Robinson’s words, “definitively identical and definitively unique” — such as pinstripes, stitching patterns or stains. If the lettering alignment on a jersey is the same for each player on a team, then that cannot be deemed a “unique characteristic” and cannot be used to determine a match. The method eschews what Robinson terms a “process of elimination” analysis, where experts rule out jerseys.
Resolution has matched items going back to the early 20th century, including a Ruth bat and two Ty Cobb items. It scored one of its biggest marketing victories when it matched an aviator helmet that once belonged to Amelia Earhart. (It sold for $825,000 at a Heritage Auction.) The company charges one fee for its process and an additional premium if it finds a match, a point that Robinson emphasizes. When Resolution returned a “no match” verdict on the Ruth jersey in 2019, it was sacrificing additional revenue. And when Angrist submitted the item to Resolution again in 2021 and 2022, the company came back with the same ruling.
“We came to the same conclusion each time it was submitted after re-analyzing all of the characteristics each time,” Robinson said.
Ruth shakes hands with Lou Gehrig after hitting a home run in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series. (Bettman/Getty Images)
It’s not uncommon for high-end collectors to receive a “no match” from the leading photomatch companies. In the case of the Ruth jersey, the decision would have remained an industry secret, but Angrist took the jersey to End-to-End, a new photomatching company started by Blake Panarisi, a 2017 graduate of San Diego State who had worked in data research and analytics. Panarisi sees the art as “a variation of image classification,” which he utilized in the business world. The company returned a match on the jersey, and eventually, so did MeiGray, a firm with a longer track record. (Earlier this year, Panarisi moved to Professional Sports Authenticator, which started a photomatching department and also matched the jersey.)
In an April letter to Angrist from Jim Montague, vice president of MeiGray Authenticated, and Stu Oxenhorn, the company’s director of vintage, the company said the “jersey was photo-matched to two Getty Images (photos) and a photo from The Chicago Daily News showing Ruth standing at the dugout with Lou Gehrig and Joe McCarthy. The photos were taken both prior and during Game 3 of the World Series on October 1, 1932, at Wrigley Field in Chicago.”
The discrepancy between the rulings stemmed from characteristics — in this case, the alignment of letters on the front in relation to buttons — that MeiGray and others used to make their calls. Resolution found that those characteristics were identical to those on other Yankee jerseys from that year, which meant that they were not “definitively unique.” Upon prompting from Heritage, Resolution said it provided “a brief Letter of Opinion detailing the characteristics in player images that showed some level of promise,” which is included on the listing page. Robinson said it was not the first time that another company came to a different conclusion after Resolution failed to match an item.
“We have often felt heavy pressure from some of our most powerful clients to stay silent in these situations,” Robinson said in a press release in late July. “But in this situation, we felt like we had to be open.”
Resolution’s history with the Ruth jersey first became public after reporter Darren Rovell inquired earlier this year. But Robinson said the company had planned to issue a statement about its earlier rulings, citing the importance of the item. The ensuing conversation over the jersey has underscored a larger argument about the standards of photomatching, which are determined by the companies themselves.
“It’s part of the process of photomatching,” Panarisi said. “It’s really an opinion-based service, when you look at it. But there are hard facts to back that opinion.”
Major League Baseball, which operates an authenticator program, does not use photomatching, a league official told The Athletic. It relies solely on on-site employees, who issue stickers to game-used balls, bats and jerseys. Robinson remains hopeful that the questions over the Ruth jersey will benefit the photomatching industry in the long run. As of Wednesday afternoon, the highest bid was at $18.12 million, including a buyer’s premium.
“We’ve heard from a lot of our top auction house clients and individual clients in the last couple weeks,” Robinson said. “They’ve been really supportive of our standards and openness, which has been very encouraging.”
Heritage Auctions has kept relying on Resolution, too. Another item for sale this month is a 1954 game-worn Hank Aaron jersey from his rookie season. The item was photomatched by Resolution and the Heritage listing includes the following disclaimer: “The most ironclad assurance of authenticity is delivered by the good folks at Resolution Photomatching.”
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(Top photo of Babe Ruth with Ping Bodie: Bettmann via Getty Images)