At a baseball game in San Francisco, my friend Fritz managed to catch a foul ball. A kid sitting a few rows behind my friend was also among those scrambling for the ball. Urged on by 50 surrounding fans, my friend gave the ball to the kid. The fans cheered. Not two minutes later, a rival fan showed up and offered the kid $100 for the ball. With his parents’ encouragement, the kid exchanged the ball for the cash. My friend was outraged. Should the kid have refused the cash, split the money with my friend or given all the cash to Fritz? JEFF MCNEAR, LARKSPUR, CALIF.

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When your friend surrendered his foul ball to the kid, he gave him an intangible gift: the ball itself is real, but the symbolic meaning is impossible to quantify. It’s a memento from a live event that can’t be replicated, an expression of camaraderie between two people who (in theory) love the same game, and the physical representation of a unique memory. When the rival fan showed up with his wallet, the ball’s value suddenly became depressingly tangible — it was now a commodity with an unambiguous price tag. So what this kid (and his opportunistic parents) did was trade something of incalculable value for a fast $100. It was a bad exchange and an unethical exchange. He should have refused the cash.

The way the ball was acquired really matters. Look at it like this: Let’s say a man finds a wristwatch in his deceased parents’ attic. If this watch is worth $100, the man can decide whether he wants to keep it or sell it on eBay. It’s just an item that came from somewhere unexpected; there’s no emotion embedded within the object. But let’s say that same watch had been a gift from his dying father, handed over on his deathbed. Let’s also assume the son had always coveted the watch and the father wanted him to keep it as a family artifact. Selling it for $100 would now be profoundly depraved. Because now it’s not just a wristwatch — it’s something else entirely. It’s a conscious connection to another person. To immediately monetize its significance is wrong. It’s the difference between regifting a mixing bowl you didn’t even list on your bridal registry and pawning your wedding ring when your wife is on vacation.