The Beanie Baby That Wasn’t: Lessons from Baseball’s Plush Underground

UNBOXED with Doug Glanville

I remember the Beanie Baby craze in the ‘90s. For a while, it seemed like that was all anyone talked about in the collectible world. People were obsessed. So for this week’s Unboxed, I thought I had unearthed a rare and unique Beanie Baby tucked away in one of my memorabilia boxes.

Turns out, it is not exactly what I thought.

As I was getting ready to snap a photo for this post, something was off. I did not see the familiar and official “Ty” tag anywhere on this bright blue semi-stuffed bear. A closer look revealed the truth. It was not a Beanie Baby at all. It was one of Salvino’s Ballpark Bammers, a distinct, baseball-themed imitation inspired by the Beanie Baby wave.

This particular Bammer dates back to May of 2000, which means it has been with me for 25 years. And, it has held up surprisingly well.

I received it during a Phillies giveaway day when I was one of the players featured. The bear was custom-made with the team logo, adorned with the number 6, and had my name stitched across the back. At the time, it probably did not stand out. As players, those giveaways usually come and go in a blur. Your locker is already overflowing with gear, so when a promo item is dropped in front of it, you might not even give it a second glance at that moment. Maybe you toss it to a young fan or hand it off to a family member. If not, it might surface at the end of the season or even disappear completely.

During the season, so much emphasis goes into what you are wearing and what gear is in the locker room. Back then, bat companies were everywhere, each trying to get our attention until MLB tightened things up with a licensing requirement. Before that shift, the clubhouse felt more like a trade show floor than a hallowed space. Between bats, magnetic ankle weights, and power drinks allegedly sourced from Himalayan glaciers , our spaces turned into cluttered mini warehouses. It was particularly tight at Wrigley Field before it was renovated.

So how this little stuffed bear survived in the mess of spikes, gloves, engineered sweatshirts, and “performance” drinks is beyond me. But somehow, it made it. It took me about 25 years, but I found it again.