Inside the Battle for Shohei Ohtani’s Historic 50-50 Ball: The Legal Drama Every Baseball Fan Needs to Know

Let’s step into the ring and dissect this legal heavyweight bout surrounding the ownership of Shohei Ohtani’s historic 50-50 baseball. Like any solid legal argument, I’ll break it down into two powerful sides: the case for and the case against Max Matus, the 18-year-old suing for ownership. Then, I’ll serve up some counterpunches and wrap it up with a winning conclusion.

Before diving into the legal drama, let’s put some perspective on what Shohei Ohtani has done so far this season. Ohtani shattered expectations, becoming the first player in Major League Baseball history to hit 50 home runs and steal 50 bases in the same season—a feat no one else has ever touched. His performance against the Miami Marlins, where he notched his 50th home run and stole his 50th base, cemented his status as an all-time great.

The 50-50 ball is no ordinary memorabilia; it’s a symbol of a historic moment that transcends baseball and represents Ohtani’s dominance not only on the domestic stage but also internationally. A piece like this doesn’t just fetch a high price—it represents a once-in-a-lifetime event in sports history, which is why it’s at the center of this legal battle.

The Pro Side: Max Matus Has a Rightful Claim to the 50-50 Ball

Argument: Possession is Nine-Tenths of the Law

In property law, the concept of possession holds significant weight. Max Matus, according to his lawsuit, had the ball in his hand. This isn’t some muddy case of speculation. The video footage from multiple fans shows that Matus made the catch, and in that moment, he established dominion over the item. The legal precedent here is clear: the moment someone takes possession of an abandoned or unowned item (such as a baseball hit into the stands), it becomes their property.

Florida and California courts, where much of the legal framework applies here, have leaned on these principles. We saw a similar case in Popov v. Hayashi involving Barry Bonds’ 73rd home run ball. There, the court recognized that initial possession—Popov getting his glove on the ball—gave him a legitimate claim. Even though it was later torn away in a scrum, the court ordered the ball’s sale and split the proceeds. Matus’ case may echo this logic.

Argument: Wrongful Interference and Unjust Enrichment

Matus wasn’t just casually bumped; according to his claim, Chris Belanski physically wrestled the ball away. This wasn’t a free-for-all melee where anything goes—stadium rules and basic decency apply. Florida’s tort law and California’s as well both recognize claims of wrongful interference with personal property. By forcibly removing the ball from Matus’ hands, Belanski essentially committed conversion, taking something that didn’t belong to him.

Moreover, the principle of unjust enrichment applies. Belanski stands to gain millions from auctioning off the ball, something he only possesses through forceful means. Equity dictates that Matus, who rightfully caught the ball, should either get the ball back or receive compensation for its value. Otherwise, Belanski profits unjustly from wrongful conduct.

The Con Side: Belanski’s Ownership of the Ball Is Defensible

Argument: Continuous Possession and Custom

On the flip side, let’s look at the practical reality of baseball games. The tradition in baseball is clear: once the ball leaves the field of play and enters the stands, it’s up for grabs. Just because someone touches the ball doesn’t mean they have full ownership. Belanski could argue that in a chaotic situation, no one really has possession until the scramble ends. By emerging with the ball and securing it, he completed the process of possession.

Looking back at Popov v. Hayashi, the court acknowledged this uncertainty in defining clear possession in a scramble. Belanski could argue that Matus never had full possession—just a fleeting moment of control before the inevitable fight for such a high-value item took place. Courts are hesitant to disrupt the social customs around catching balls at games, so Belanski might have the upper hand in defending this as part of the experience.

Argument: Auction as a Legal Conclusion

Belanski’s deal with Goldin is already underway, and there’s something to be said for the legality of that contract. From a business law standpoint, once a seller has entered into an agreement with a third party—in this case, the auction house—it strengthens the position of ownership. The law doesn’t favor disruptively halting contracts unless there is overwhelming evidence of fraud or improper dealings. Belanski could argue that this auction proceeding and the ball’s sale should move forward without interference, as Matus’ claim is shaky at best.

Refuting the Opposing Views

Counter to Continuous Possession

Belanski’s claim of continuous possession falls apart under scrutiny. There’s clear footage showing that Matus had the ball in his hand before Belanski wrestled it away. Unlike Popov v. Hayashi, where a scrum made it unclear who had initial control, this case appears more cut and dry. Matus had the ball, and Belanski’s forceful removal isn’t part of any accepted “scramble” tradition. Rather, it’s a violation of personal property rights.

Counter to Auction Legality

The auction process can’t whitewash the fact that the ball was obtained under questionable circumstances. Belanski can’t hide behind contracts when the initial possession of the ball is in legal dispute. If the court finds that Matus had rightful possession, any subsequent agreements with Goldin Auction House are voidable. Contracts made under dubious conditions don’t hold water in the face of a legal claim for rightful ownership.

Conclusion: Weighing the Scales of Justice

After analyzing both sides of the argument, it’s clear that the legal weight tilts in favor of Max Matus. Not only should the court grant an injunction to stop the auction, but ownership of Shohei Ohtani’s historic 50-50 ball should also go to Matus.

Why? First, he had clear possession of the ball—there’s undeniable footage showing that Matus caught it, establishing legal dominion.

Second, Belanski’s forceful removal of the ball constitutes wrongful interference, violating both personal property rights and the principles of fairness. This isn’t some vague scramble for a foul ball; this is a one-of-a-kind item, and Matus had possession.

Third, allowing Belanski to profit from this would create unjust enrichment, a concept courts simply don’t condone. Belanski doesn’t get to wrestle the ball away and walk away with millions. Instead, equity demands that the ball stays with Matus, who by all rights had control of it.

I believe, based upon the facts as I understand them to be, that the court should not only halt the auction but recognize Matus as the rightful owner of the 50-50 ball. This decision would uphold the integrity of property law and send a clear message that wrongful interference won’t be rewarded, even in the chaotic energy of a baseball stadium. Matus deserves the ball, not just for being the fan who caught it, but for standing firm in his legal and moral claim to ownership.

What do you think? Did my analysis just get me thrown out trying to steal second, or is it a walk-off home run in the bottom of the 9th?

Mitch Jackson, Esq. | Private Mediator