FOR NEARLY A quarter-century, one of the most famous home run balls in baseball history sat on a shelf inside a case in Neil Dunleavy's bedroom closet gathering dust. Every so often he would retrieve it and gaze with admiration: the gold lettering, the round black smudge where the bat struck it and the signature that had faded to the point that it was imperceptible to the naked eye, save for one clue: "#2."
Dunleavy grew up on the outskirts of New York City, but he was raised at Yankee Stadium. His father, John, worked there as a vendor for 57 years.