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Raul Ibanez hit a foul ball on Tuesday night that is forever lost to history.

(AP Photo, Mark Duncan)

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Somewhere, in the far reaches of Progressive Field, there sits a baseball. It's not unlike any other baseball, really. It's white, though stained brown by dirt. It has red seams. It makes a loud thunk when you bounce it.

But there is something different about this particular baseball. Because this baseball disappeared. This baseball is forever lost. It lives on only in our minds.

It was a warm night, some say. Close to 90. There were 14,000 people at the ballpark that night, though if you counted every person who claims they were there, that number would probably reach 14,003. And Raul Ibanez, the left fielder for the Los Angeles Angels, hit a fly ball into the dark, abandoned recesses of Progressive Field's right field upper deck.

Undeterred by the harsh conditions of an area of the ballpark long forgotten, boys and grown men alike hurdled seats, climbed stairs and raced to find the ball, to get their hands on a most precious commodity -- a foul ball. There are only thousands of them hit every year, so to hold one -- to touch one -- is the definition of joy. To hunt for this foul ball, however, is the definition of insanity.

Because the ball no longer exists. Or it rolled under a seat and no one noticed it. Regardless, it's now lost to history. It will fade over time. It will be nothing more than a tale that men tell their grandchildren.

That is the fate of Raul Ibanez's foul ball. It is gone. It is legend.