Leave it to L to find stuff I thought I had lost forever. The object of her eureka moment this afternoon: The only foul ball I’ve ever caught during a live Major League Baseball game (which, oddly enough, happened to be exactly ten years ago today, at the old Yankee Stadium, on July 6, 2000).

Some backstory. L has been into balls now for a while. A few weeks ago, she discovered a baseball autographed by Mariano Rivera on one of the bookshelves in my office.

Despite the obvious value of a ball with this signature, I decided to let L play with it. She became obsessed—so obsessed that she rolled the ball under a couch or bed or dresser somewhere and now I can’t find it.

Since that moment, she’s been looking for the ball everywhere. Today, then, while we were playing in my office, she went rummaging through the recesses of my closet to find it (this area became a giant makeshift book repository when I had to move my bookcases to receive the foldout couch when we converted our guest room into the nursery).

She didn’t find the Rivera ball. She did, however, find another ball—the missing foul.

At first I didn’t recognize the thing; it’s a dirty baseball with a giant splotch of pine tar on it. Then, on the backside of the ball, I could make out my own handwriting. It read: “Tino Martinez. Yankees vs. Orioles, July 6, 2000.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My foul! I hadn’t seen the ball since we moved to Healdsburg in 2007. All this time, I thought it was a casualty of the move. Now, in front of me, there it was!

Instantly, I shared the news with friends. I called some buddies. I Tweeted it. I Facebooked it.

Of course the baby was delighted, too. Though she couldn’t tell the difference between the foul and the Rivera, this was one of those baseball things she had misplaced a few days ago, and she was happy to have it back.

You can imagine, then, how giddy she was when I let her have the foul to play with. She looked at me as if to say, “Really? I can have it?” Other baseball fans and collectors might scoff at my willingness to part with such a personal treasure. But the way I see it, I’ve now got two memories tied up in the thing—catching it and finding it again.

The physical ball means much more to her at this point; let’s just hope she doesn’t misplace this one, too.