Statues of Imitation

Bobblehead dolls once died vicious deaths, strictly for amusement.

This was two decades ago, in the long and dry summers before Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire arrived to rescue the Oakland A’s from mediocrity. The A’s would promote an upcoming series with a scoreboard video that showed two bobblehead dolls smiling and nodding, side by side, one doll dressed in an Oakland uniform and the other in the uniform of, say, the Detroit Tigers.

Destruction followed: The Tiger doll would be pushed off a ledge, or a bowling ball would crash onto its head, or an elephant would stomp and crush it. The Tiger doll would be blown to smithereens, one way or another, while the Oakland doll just stood there, cheeks full of innocence, still smiling, still nodding.

The fans who roared with laughter at the A’s antics back then would probably be screaming today: Don’t blow up those dolls! They’re worth good money!

The first sports memorabilia craze of the new century is decidedly old-fashioned.

Bobblehead dolls, those lovable seven-inch statues with bouncing heads and perpetual smiles, are no longer artifacts from the days before artificial turf, night games at Wrigley Field and expansion teams named after snakes. The dolls are the hottest giveaway items at sporting events this year, for some fans a bigger attraction than the games themselves.

The Dodgers have given away Tom Lasorda and Kirk Gibson dolls this season, with Fernando Valenzuela dolls on deck Sunday, and the Angels have given away Tim Salmon and Garret Anderson dolls, but the craze has broadened beyond its baseball heritage. Within a recent six-day span, you could have gotten a doll from the Avengers (a generic football player, complete with helmet and face mask), a doll from Hollywood Park (jockey Chris McCarron) and two dolls from the Sparks (DeLisha Milton and Coach Michael Cooper).

The craze is not limited to sports, or humans. President Bush has a doll. Country singer John Anderson has a doll. Charlie Brown and Oscar the Grouch have dolls, as do mascots both collegiate (the Stanford Tree) and corporate (the Spam Man, with arms and legs sticking out of a can of the fabled lunch meat). Philippe’s, the legendary downtown Los Angeles sandwich emporium that is the antithesis of trendiness, nonetheless sells bobblehead waiter dolls for $9.95.

At the ballpark, ground zero for this pop culture fad, fans and players alike clamor for the dolls. Rex Hudler, an Angel broadcaster and a former major leaguer, picked up a pair of Willie McCovey dolls when the Angels visited San Francisco. Lasorda said one of his dolls is displayed in the Houston office of former President Bush. When the Texas Rangers distributed Rafael Palmeiro dolls, Palmeiro needed 50 to satisfy the friends and family members who wanted one.

So Palmeiro ought to be a perfect person to explain why these cute little dolls are riding such an outrageously high wave of popularity. But Palmeiro shrugged and shook his head--side to side, not bobbing.

“No idea,” he said. “Ask the marketing people.”

Wide Appeal

If retro promotional items are hot, after all, why Bobblehead Night and not Slinky Night or Cabbage Patch Kid Night?

It’s a baseball thing, sure, but baseball teams gave out Beanie Babies at the height of their popularity, without anywhere near this much fuss.

“On one hand, there are people nostalgic for bobbleheads, because they remember them from their youth. On the other hand, a lot of young people have never seen bobbleheads before and think they’re pretty cool,” said Patrick Klinger, vice president of marketing for the Minnesota Twins and the man perhaps most responsible for the trend. The team staged four bobblehead giveaways last season, in honor of its 40th season in Minnesota, and other teams couldn’t say “copycat” fast enough after noticing that the last-place Twins practically doubled their average attendance on bobblehead days.

“It’s young. It’s old. It’s male. It’s female. It’s black. It’s white. It’s one of those items that appeals to just about everybody,” Klinger said.

Said Mike Becker, president of Funko, one of several suburban Seattle companies that distribute the dolls: “It’s a somewhat dignified way to relive part of your childhood. Action figures fall over. I’m 37, and I sure wouldn’t put a Beanie Baby on my desk. But I’d put a bobblehead doll on my desk.”

When the Twins gave away dolls of hall of famer Harmon Killebrew--at a night game--fans lined up outside the Metrodome as early as 6 a.m. When the Dodgers gave away Gibson dolls, a fan who caught a foul ball offered to trade the ball for a doll.

The dolls have bobbed in and out of popular culture for decades; an eBay search reveals Beatle dolls from 1964. But vintage dolls were often made of papier-mache or cheap plastic, and baseball dolls of that era were generic for each team, with cherubic faces and rotund bodies.

“My aunt and uncle used to collect them,” Dodger infielder Dave Hansen said. “They had them all, all the teams. I played with them constantly. But they weren’t that durable.”

The resurgent interest is driven by individual player dolls of higher-quality ceramic and similar substances, made from custom molds and hand-painted, with details such as high socks (Jim Thome of the Cleveland Indians), a forehead scar (Darrell Armstrong of the Orlando Magic), tattoos and an earring (Allen Iverson of the Philadelphia 76ers). The Sparks’ Lisa Leslie sent her prototype back so her eyes could be lightened. Dave Winfield prodded the Twins to make sure his doll is taller than Kirby Puckett’s. (It is, by an inch.)

If fans don’t attend Fernando Bobblehead Night, they can’t buy a Fernando doll the next time they attend a Dodger game. The dolls are given away, and they’re gone, bound for display at home or sale to collectors.

When the Dodgers gave away Gibson dolls, a Detroit radio station on which Gibson appears wanted to buy several hundred. Some fans bought tickets, did not bother attending the game, mailed in their tickets and asked for a doll. (The Dodgers said no to the radio station but honored requests from season-ticket holders, according to Sergio del Prado, director of sales and marketing.)

Some fans in attendance, visions of online auctions dancing in their heads, offered cash to anyone willing to sell a doll.

“You see a dad bringing 25 Little Leaguers to a game so they all can get a doll for their college fund,” said Jay Deutsch, president of Bensussen Deutsch and Associates, another doll supplier.

Money to Be Made

That’s an exaggeration, but not by much. At the five-day Fan Fest surrounding this month’s All-Star game in Seattle, a run of 10,000 Ichiro dolls sold out, at $35 each. Within hours, an eBay auctioneer asked $800 for 10. He didn’t get it, but two sold for $100. Two St. Louis Cardinal dolls--one each of catcher Mike Matheny and outfielder Jim Edmonds--went for $95. An Iverson doll, mistakenly missing the earring, fetched $500.

The concept of bobblehead profits has not been lost on the teams. For years, baseball teams have sold plastic dolls bearing no resemblance to any particular player--the Dodgers, for instance, offer a generic white player, black player or Asian player for $10. But, in the Angels’ store at Edison Field, a new and prominent display case showcases a line of $40 dolls, representing almost every major league team, soon to be sold at ballparks across the U.S. and retail outlets specializing in collectibles and memorabilia.

The dolls, made under license from Major League Baseball by the Memory Company of Alabama, also are generic to each team, but chief executive officer Charles Sizemore cites a limited edition--fewer than 5,000 dolls per team--and a high-quality resin base as reasons collectors might pay more for his company’s dolls. Collecting a set could be a rather expensive hobby. The currently available dolls, dressed in home uniforms, will be removed from distribution at the end of the year, replaced in 2002 by dolls dressed in road uniforms and in 2003 by dolls dressed in catcher’s gear.

The craze has spread beyond dolls. The Angels sell bobblehead pins (two-piece pins held together by tiny chains) for $6 and a bobblehead cap (with the image of a doll in place of the team logo) for $19. The Dodgers sell a Hawaiian-style shirt decorated with bobblehead dolls from teams past and present, from the Washington Senators to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, for $75.

Andy Dolich, the former Oakland marketing executive who dreamed up the concept of obliterating dolls on the A’s scoreboard all those years ago, may not be kidding when he suggests the next step in the evolution of the bobblehead craze. “I guess,” Dolich said, “a jeweler to the stars will do a solid gold or diamond-encrusted bobblehead.”

If all your favorite pro athletes have their own dolls, why not your Little League all-star? The wholesale cost of a doll is about $3, but only in mass quantities. Deutsch fields numerous inquiries from parents wanting a doll of their son the ballplayer; he lets them down gently by informing them that his company requires a minimum order of 5,000.

“That,” he said, “would be a pretty big bar mitzvah.”

Dolich is now president of business operations for the Memphis Grizzlies. Since the NBA team just arrived in town, moving this month from Vancouver, Dolich said the Grizzlies might well give out bobbleheads to help introduce the team in its new market. “Ours will have blue suede sneakers, without a doubt,” he said.

Deutsch said his company, which does not sell its products in retail stores, expects to distribute two million promotional dolls this year. Malcolm Alexander, owner of Alexander Global Promotions, supplies dolls for team giveaways as well as outlets such as Kmart and the Home Shopping Network, and said he expects to ship 1.1 million dolls in August alone. He recently bought a factory in China, solely for the manufacture of bobblehead dolls, and said he employs 3,500 there, including 38 sculptors.

Even Becker, whose company makes old-fashioned plastic dolls and who disdains sports figures for bobbleheads in favor of cartoon figures such as Speed Racer and Betty Boop--”I don’t think she’s going to get traded or get a DUI,” Becker said--has reaped the benefits of the sports-generated phenomenon. Talk about retro: In three months, he said, he has sold 16,000 Mr. T dolls.

“It’s crazy,” he said. “It’s almost insane.”