Some lady at a garage sale gave my wife (wait till her husband finds out!) an official Rawlings baseball signed by Wally Joyner.
There is another signature on the baseball. It looks like D is the first letter of the first name and S appears to be the first letter in the last name. Both names appear to be quite short.
I wonder if it’s common for two players to sign a baseball. Perhaps the two signatures represent a milestone (2000th hit or whatever) and D.S. was the opposing pitcher. Do players even do that?
Wally signed in the “sweet spot” where there was plenty of room and “D S” signed in the more confined area between the red stitches right beneath Wally’s signature. There wasn’t much room between the stitches, so maybe D S had to compress his signature a little.
Wow, good thing they got that Wally Joyner ball authenticated so they could rake in the big bucks.
As to why someone would get two signatures on a ball, it’s likely that someone had the ball at a game and those were the only two players that came over to sign autographs. They were probably hoping for more than just the two.
OP - Can you post a scan/photo of the ball? I was a big baseball autograph collector through the 90s and 2000s and might be able to help.
In 1990, I managed to procure four tickets to the MLB All-Star Game at Wrigley Field. I invited three friends, one of whom had a connection with a limo company, so the four of us rode to the game in a nice big stretch.
When we got to the stadium, the driver pulled up to the curb to let us out, and we realized we were right in front of the players’ entrance and a cluster of autograph-seekers were crowding the sidewalk. As we emerged from the limo – four relatively tall and fit guys in our late 20’s to early 30’s who could plausibly have been (briefly) mistaken for professional baseball players – necks craned in anticipation and a restless murmur arose from the crowd, which quickly subsided as people realized that we were, in fact, nobody. This was confirmed as we walked in the opposite direction of the players’ entrance and toward the sports bar across the street.
But one kid, a boy of about 10, wouldn’t give up. He followed us, holding up a baseball – with a handful of signatures already on it – and a pen, saying, “Will you sign my ball? Please?”
“You really don’t want our autographs, kid,” we said, and “We’re not players,” and other statements to that effect. But he would not be dissuaded. The kid absolutely insisted that we sign his baseball. So eventually we did, and he ran off grinning.
The point being, the other signature on your ball may very well be that of nobody of any note.