It’s as if baseball’s spirit animal has become a muscle-bound slugger locked in a perpetual home-run derby. “Chicks dig the long ball” was the kitschy phrase that captured the imagination of fans in the steroid era, and now, with the game’s new innovation—the torpedo bat—it seems this mantra has found fresh legs. Whether you’re a fan at the park or a card collector at home, the implications are practically writ in neon.
Enter the torpedo bat, baseball’s latest obsession, which is revolutionizing the hitters’ playbook and, by extension, shaking up the baseball card market. These specially crafted sticks, dubbed “torpedoes” due to their sleek, aerodynamic design, are not your grandfather’s wooden bats. Oh no, these beauties are tailored to the quirkiest whims and fancies of each player, allowing even the most unassuming batter to swing for the moon. Step aside, pitchers; it’s batter up, and they’re bringing artillery.
The spectacle was jaw-dropping right from the get-go. Even the famously stoic Milwaukee Brewers were left dazed, watching their livelihoods zip over the fences like fireworks in broad daylight, courtesy of the New York Yankees in their inaugural series. With a staggering 15 home runs in the debut series—nine of those packed into a single game—the game was more a showcase of pyrotechnics than a traditional baseball contest. If you listen closely, you might catch the sound of collective pitcher whimpering across the league as résumés are hastily updated to include new special skills, such as “intense mental fortitude in high-pressure, high-homer environments.”
From a commercial standpoint, one of the core edicts is crystal clear to collectors: It’s the boom times for hitters. Indeed, the collectibles market has responded with the speed and decisiveness of a buyer in a Gold Rush, the value of hitters’ cards rocketing faster than a torpedoed ball into the bleachers. Yankees’ star Aaron Judge is a luminous example. Despite not yet embracing the torpedo bat himself, Judge has benefited ambiently; his card values have soared on the coattails of his teammates’ extra-terrestrial feats. With the Yankees collectively engaging in daily group-launch practices, collectors who wisely bet on Judge are seeing substantial returns on their faith in offensive fireworks.
On the contrary, the landscape appears grim for those invested in pitchers. Historical success stories like last year’s NL Rookie of the Year Paul Skenes are facing a bleak forecast. The ascension of the torpedo bat spells possible depreciation of their card values, potentially drizzling faster than a knuckleball with no oomph. High-potential prospects such as Jackson Jobe of the Detroit Tigers and Roki Sasaki of the LA Dodgers could see their collectibles plummet, balancing on a knifepoint unless Major League Baseball decides to intervene, rule-making bat in one hand, the critique pen in the other.
And then there’s the supernova that is Shohei Ohtani—the athletic tour de force who both pitches and hits with the finesse of someone who might just wrangle baseball more than anyone else. With the rise of the torpedo bat, this could very well be the season Ohtani chooses to pursue ball-out-of-the-park launches with even greater zeal, stealing the July fireworks scene. In L.A., Dodgers fans and collectors are, understandably, drooling at the prospect of more Ohtani home runs with an occasional side of devastating pitching.
For all its lore, baseball is frequently resistant to change, rooted in traditions like unwritten rules and the seventh-inning stretch. Yet, occasionally, a seismic shift comes along that alters the sport’s trajectory, and with it, the culture and economics surrounding it. The torpedo bat could well be that shift. So, for pitchers, the ride might indeed be bumpy, like a knuckleball in high winds. And collectors, it’s time to load up on those offensive players—your card collection just found its potential life raft as it navigates these deep, changeable tides of baseball innovation. Step aside, conventional wisdom, the torpedo era has launched, catapulting baseball—and card collecting—into new, thrilling orbits.
