It used to be that fans brought gloves to baseball games in hopes of catching a cheap souvenir. In the final days of Barry Bonds' record home run chase, though, many fans had designs on snaring a lottery ticket.

Where the balls are

Most of Barry Bonds' final 13 home run balls, from 61 through 73, have managed to avoid controversy. Bonds has six of them, and fans have the other seven. A Giants official said Bonds obtained Nos. 61, 62, 63, 65, 66 and 72 through trade. No. 61 went into the fountain near the visitors' bullpen at Coors Field. No. 62 was actually the only time the Giants had to negotiate with a fan. No. 63 went into the Rockies bullpen. Nos. 65 and 66 went behind a retaining wall at Qualcomm Stadium in San Diego. No. 72 came back onto the field and was returned to Bonds by Dodgers outfielder Marquis Grissom.

On the heels of Mark McGwire's 1998 record season, which saw the record No. 70 ball sell for more than $3 million, the Bonds chase this season drew overflow crowds to McCovey Cove and other potential landing sites as fans and collectors vied for ownership of the coveted balls, as well as the fame and fortune attached to them.

Now, with the chase over and the balls in circulation, it appears the jockeying for position has spilled out of the stands and quite possibly into the legal system.

Just days after Bonds hit his record 73rd home run, two of Bonds last seven home run balls have become the focus of controversy.

What is purported to be Bonds' 67th home run ball was auctioned online for little more than $1,400 on Sunday, though questions remain whether the ball is, indeed, the actual ball that the Giants slugger sent deep into the Dodger Stadium bleachers on Sept. 24. Similarly, a dispute over ownership of Bonds' 73rd home run ball might ultimately be decided in court after a melee in the stands, taped by a TV camera, apparently caused one fan to lose the prized homer.

Each case promises to test a different aspect of the quest for these historic and valuable souvenirs - authenticity and ownership.

The last unmarked ball
Chris Martin thought he found a bargain when he won an online auction for Bonds' 67th home run ball just hours after Bonds crushed his 73rd and final homer of the season on Sunday.

Convinced by the seller's high rating issued by eBay users and buoyed by the belief that the penalty for fraud in California would prove too much a risk, Martin, a 33-year-old San Francisco Giants fan, was set to wire the winning bid of $1,410.79 to the seller and was preparing to take possession of a piece of history.

But the price seemed too good to be true. So good that Simeon Lipman, a sports collectibles expert from Mastronet auction house, called it "very, very cheap, ridiculous cheap, like 'something's wrong' cheap."

Martin said everything seemed to be on the up-and-up. There were multiple pictures of the ball, including one of the fan standing where it was caught at Dodger Stadium, as well as a letter vouching its authenticity.

"I, Mike Johnson, receive (sic) this Barry Bonds 67th home run baseball at 9-24 game at Dodger Stadium," read the note, written in blue pen and barely visible even when magnified online. "The ball was hit right after I took the enclosed photo. I ran foward (sic) five rows and got the ball after it hit one person and the ground. Barry was only willing to give me a signed baseball for it and (I) decided to keep it and put it on eBay."

As an auction site, eBay is not held to the same standards as memorabilia dealers, and thus is not required to verify the authenticity of items its users put up for sale. In January, a California judge dismissed a $100 million class action lawsuit against eBay alleging that site officials knew about the sale of fake memorabilia, but did not provide certificates of authenticity, which are mandated by California state law.

Since Johnson placed his ball up on a three-day auction, eBay spokesman Charlie Carter said he wasn't even aware the ball was for sale on the site until after the bidding period ended late Sunday night. Soon after hearing that he had the winning bid, Martin began to question the ball's authenticity.

He did some checking and became concerned when he found a story in the Contra Costa Times from the day after home run No. 67. The story named the ball's owner as James Malone of Simi Valley. Not Mike Johnson.

"After finding the article with a different name and with different circumstances, it didn't make much sense to get involved in the transaction," Martin said Monday. "For every ball virtually from No. 60 on, you always know the name of person who has the ball."

According to a Giants representative, the person who was escorted to the team's clubhouse with the No. 67 home run ball was named Malone. The representative said Malone was offered four balls autographed by Bonds and a chance to meet the slugger in exchange for the home run ball but declined the offer.

In an e-mail interview, Johnson said he wound up with dual possession of the home run ball after a scramble in the bleachers. He said he gave the other man -- whose name he said he did not remember, according to Martin - a ball autographed by Bonds in exchange for sole possession of the No. 67 ball.

In the description he provided on eBay, Johnson also claimed the ball had a "laser mark," which would prove its authenticity. But Martin learned the markings weren't featured on balls until after Bonds' hit his 67th home run, a fact confirmed by Major League Baseball spokesman Pat Courtney on Monday.

"You could code every baseball used in every game, not knowing who, 160 games later, is going to possibly break a record," said Arlen Ettinger, president of Guernsey's, which auctioned McGwire and Sammy Sosa's home run balls from the 1998 season. "But in reality, there has to be some place to start."

MLB decided to start with homer No. 68, meaning the authenticity of any purported home run ball before that could be called into question. Why No. 68 and not sooner? Verifying the authenticity of too many balls would have been logistically and financially impractical, said Joe Grippo, the league's licensing manager for collectibles and memorabilia. That prevented the league from starting the authentication process at No. 61, despite the fact at least the last 10 home run balls could have significant value.

Todd McFarlane, the comic book mogul, paid more than $3 million for McGwire's then-record 70th homer ball and another $400,000 for nine others hit by either Sosa or McGwire during the stretch of their season-long home run derby. Among those in McFarlane's collection are Sosa's No. 61 and 66, and McGwire's Nos. 67, 68, 69.

As during McGwire and Sosa's homer duel in 1998, the league arranged an intricate system to track Bonds' homers that included the use of balls with both visible and invisible markings. The system was implemented after Bonds hit his 67th home run, and holograms were added to those verified to be Bonds' 70th through 73rd homers.

Interestingly, security consultants were not on hand to immediately certify the markings from home runs Nos. 68 and 69. Still, No. 67 might have been the perfect ball to claim to have, since it was the last Bonds home run ball without the coded markings.

Martin ultimately backed out of the deal, and Johnson, the seller of the purported No. 67 ball, declined further interview requests.

Time of possession
Even with all the proper markings and attendant security, though, a record-setting home run ball is not immune from controversy.

	As Barry Bonds circles the bases after No. 73, the Pac Bell Park video screen shows fans scrambling for the ball.

Alex Popov, a San Francisco Giants fan, claims he was robbed not only of a piece of history, but possibly millions of dollars, as well. Popov said he caught Bonds' last home run, No. 73, on the arcade behind the right-field stands at Pacific Bell Park on Sunday, only to have the ball stolen from his glove when a swarm of fans knocked him to the ground.

And he has documented evidence to prove it - a cameraman from KNTV-TV caught it all on videotape.

"You can see on the tape that my glove is the only glove that goes up," Popov said. "It's a clean catch, and because of the lack of security, I get pummeled by 50 people, in a pile stacked five people high, who are digging and digging. ... It's a full two minutes before Major League officials come and grab him."

Him is Patrick Hayashi, who ended up with the ball and was escorted by stadium security to a safe location where the ball's authenticity was verified.

"People are yelling 'Get off! Get off!' and Popov is saying 'I got it!' " said Ted Rowlands, the KNTV-TV reporter who was in the middle of the pile. "But in the middle of this all, Hayashi becomes obsessed with his pocket, and his hand doesn't leave it, and after a while he shows the ball to the camera and says, 'Is this it?' "

Popov said he eventually emerged from the pile with broken glasses and bruises over his body. But despite the corroboration of fans around him, he said his pleas to security for the ball were to no avail.

"For all I know 90 people had the ball in that pile," said Courtney, who was in San Francisco on Sunday. "It's pretty scary, seeing the masses of people rushing toward it, but in the end, the guy who had the ball, security went and grabbed."

Baseball officials say the purpose of the authentication program was to prevent fraud, and Popov's case doesn't involve the ball's mistaken identity.

	“	I'm not interested in a settlement right now. I want my stolen property back. ”
		— Alex Popov

"This is not a fraud situation; one person's claiming theft," Grippo said. "We certified that what he had was the ball. Fraud is about it not being the right ball. So we've cleared our conscience in the sense that the ball the guy had was the ball that Bonds hit. We're protecting the person who has the ball from others who say they have the ball."

Hayashi has not returned phone calls or e-mails seeking comment, issuing only one statement via e-mail Monday night.

"I was part of history, because I caught Barry's No. 73," Popov said. "And without that video my story would forever go down in history as hearsay."

Whether they intended to do so or not, Major League Baseball in essence certified Hayashi as the owner when they escorted him from the stands, said Jorge Costa, the Giants' senior vice president of ballpark operations.

"By the time the Giants got involved, it was over," Costa said Tuesday. "Baseball officials said, ‘You're the guy who has possession of the ball, let's go to a location and check the markings and do the backup paperwork."

Popov, who said he has statements from 17 fans verifying his story, retained Rosemary McCarthy, a San Jose, Calif.-based attorney. She volunteered her services at the game after speaking to fans in the stands who said they believed Popov had possession of the ball.

McCarthy said she called Hayashi once but that he has yet to respond. Popov said he left a phone message for Hayashi on Thursday afternoon offering to meet him in person. McCarthy said Popov could file a civil suit against Hayashi for possessing stolen goods.

A lawsuit could delay the sale of the ball for years, which could hurt its value, said Guernsey's Ettinger. He said his company would help mediate the dispute and also suggested holding an auction and putting the proceeds in escrow. However, Popov said, "I'm not interested in a settlement right now. I want my stolen property back."

And according to Paul Finkelman, Chapman Distinguished Professor of Law at the University of Tulsa, Popov has a case. Finkelman believes the ball should belong to the person who caught it. He has written a paper, to be published soon in the Cardozo Law Review, entitled "Fugitive Baseballs, Abandoned Property" that addresses legal ownership of baseballs that leave the field of play.

"This is not a football game," said Finkelman, "Anybody who attacked this guy has committed assault. If the film shows (Popov) getting the ball, everyone who pounced on him might all be charged with a crime. If the San Francisco Police was doing their job, they would go through the film and arrest everyone who can be identified and charge them with assault.

"There's no precedent anywhere that I would know of for this."

Actually, there's little precedent for any of this. It used to be that fans would authenticate their souvenirs by taking a picture of the vantage point, producing a ticket stub to the event and sometimes even collecting affidavits from fans seated nearby. Today, baseball uses ultraviolet lights and security consultants to ensure that the most highly coveted balls aren't marred by fraud.

But even when the ball is declared to be "the ball," there's still the matter of ownership. And as these record balls come to be seen more and more as winning lottery tickets, the stakes rise and the grip becomes tighter.

Darren Rovell covers sports business for ESPN.com. He can be reached at darren.rovell@espn.com.