"Selling," Elias said. He cleared his throat. "It’s a ball. Signed. 1955 Dodgers."
"It’s authentic," Sarah said. "I can give you a fair price. Enough to fix whatever’s going on at home." Elias nodded, his shoulders dropping two inches. buy sell sports memorabilia near me
Sarah looked at the man, then back at the ball. The shop was quiet, save for the hum of a flickering neon sign in the window. She knew the market value. She knew the auction houses would fight for it. But she also saw the way Elias was looking at the door, like he was hoping someone would stop him from leaving it behind. "Selling," Elias said
Sarah didn't scoff, though she’d heard that claim three times this week. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of yellowed tissue paper, was a ball that had seen better days. The leather was the color of a toasted marshmallow. Signed
"My grandfather got it at Ebbets Field," Elias whispered. "He told me he dropped his hot dog to catch a foul ball, and Jackie himself signed it after the game."
Elias walked in with a shoebox under his arm. He didn’t look like a collector. He looked like a man trying to pay rent. Behind the glass case, a woman named Sarah looked up from a stack of pristine Mickey Mantles.