The piece in question was a road Yankees jersey said to be worn by Babe Ruth in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series, the day of the Bambino’s “called shot” against the Cubs at Wrigley Field.

According to Robinson, the company conducted its standard three-round research process and came away with a verdict: Per their standards, it was not a match.

The story of Ruth’s “called shot” — and the decades of debate it inspired — remains one of the most famous moments in baseball history. But the tale of the jersey he may have been wearing that day is almost as fascinating. It has also been a subject of discussion for years, researched by jersey experts and amateur historians, and analyzed using cutting-edge methods. On Saturday, the jersey is expected to become the most expensive piece of game-worn sports memorabilia in history, fetching close to $20 million or more at a Heritage Auction. The previous record was held by a Michael Jordan 1998 NBA Finals jersey that sold for nearly $10.1 million in 2022.

But the decision by Resolution Photomatching — one of the leaders in the industry — has offered a sliver of doubt, creating a stir in collector’s circles and offering a window into the world of photomatching, where private companies play referee in the high-stakes world of memorabilia auctions, increasing an item’s value with a simple yes. In an interview last week, Chris Ivy, the director of sports auctions at Heritage, said it was “unfortunate that a company like Resolution would want to come out and say something like that.”

“We’re 100 percent confident that this jersey is an authentic 1932 Babe Ruth game-worn jersey,” he said, “and we’re 100 percent confident that it’s the jersey he was wearing in game three of the 1932 World Series for his ‘called shot.’”

Robinson, who founded Resolution in 2016, sees his company’s ruling as “upholding the standards of photomatching in general.” But multiple other photomatching companies — including MeiGray, an industry rival — have declared the jersey a match. The evidence — the photos, details and conclusions — is readily available at the item’s Heritage Auction listing. But for many in the industry, it raised questions about how much uncertainty is acceptable. How much doubt can be tolerated when the price tag might reach $30 million?

In the years after the 1932 World Series, the jersey Ruth wore during Game 3 disappeared. The era of instant authentication was decades away. The National Baseball Hall of Fame did not yet exist. The jersey — made with heavy gray flannel that weighed around seven ounces and featuring midnight navy felt that spelled out “New York” — was not an iconic piece of American history. It was just laundry.

Until one day in 1990, when a road Yankees jersey was found in Florida.

One thing that is not in dispute: Babe Ruth hit two home runs in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series. The first came against Cubs starter Charlie Root in the first inning with two runners on. The second is perhaps the most famous in baseball history. It came in the top of the fifth with nobody on and the score tied 4-4. Root, who won 15 games that year, was still on the mound.

It had been a heated series. New York players were furious that Cubs infielder Mark Koenig — a former member of the Yankees’ “Murderer’s Row” — was voted to receive only a half-share of the World Series bonus. “We were givin’ them (the Cubs) hell about how cheap they were,” Ruth later told The Chicago Daily News.

What happened next is still a matter of some debate. When the count reached 2-2, the United Press wrote that “Ruth motioned to the Cubs’ dugout that he was going to hit one out of the park.” The New York Daily News, meanwhile, said that Ruth “merely held up two fingers to the Cubs’ dugout to show that there was still another pitch coming to him.”

In the only surviving footage from the game, Ruth can be seen motioning toward the Cubs’ dugout along the third-base line. “I didn’t point to any spot,” Ruth would say later, according to the Chicago Daily News. “But as long as I’d called the first two strikes on myself, I had to go through with it.”

Ruth, of course, understood the power of myth, and once the story had legs, he spent years repeating all manner of versions. The embellishments often came from teammates.

“All of us players could see it was a helluva good story,” Bill Dickey, the Yankees catcher, told The Washington Post’s Shirley Povich, according to the columnist’s memoir, “All These Mornings.” “So we just made an agreement not to bother straightening out the facts.”

Ruth did hit a towering home run. The Yankees won the World Series in four games. What happened to his jersey, however, was an even bigger mystery. That is, until a well-known collector named Andy Imperato purchased an old road Yankees jersey from a woman in Florida around 1990. According to the official story, the woman’s father had received the jersey from Ruth after a round of golf. Imperato turned around and sold the jersey to another private collector for $150,000. (Imperato did not respond to multiple requests from The Athletic.)

In 1999, the jersey was consigned back to Grey Flannel Auctions — where Imperato was a co-founder — and advertised for auction as a 1930 Ruth road uniform. It sold for $284,000 and was eventually loaned to the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum in Baltimore. When the jersey returned to Grey Flannel again in 2005 the company elected to do additional research, which is how it became touted as the uniform Ruth was wearing on Oct. 1, 1932, the day of the “called shot.”

The change led to questions in the baseball community. Marc Okkonen, an amateur uniform maven turned author, studied the evidence around the jersey and concluded that it “had to have been worn by the Bambino when he connected with his famous ‘called shot.’” Others, including Michael Heffner, the president of Lelands, expressed measured skepticism. It was just as difficult to prove it wasn’t the jersey as to confirm it was. (“This memorabilia business is a racket,” Bob Feller, the famously crusty Cleveland ace, told The New York Daily News.) Nevertheless, the price soared. It sold for $940,000 to Richard C. Angrist, an ophthalmologist from New Jersey, who later loaned the jersey to the Yankees for a public display at the team’s museum.

Angrist had grown up a devoted Mets fan but diversified his interests when, in the 1980s, he started collecting baseballs signed by Hall of Famers. The Mets delivered nostalgia; the Yankees provided terrific ROI. By 2019, he had spent more than a decade trying to further corroborate the authenticity of the road Ruth jersey through various means. In the only public interview he has done on his collection — given to an ophthalmologist professional society — Angrist said he used “the services of a two-time Emmy award-winning producer, editor, director, and videographer” to help authenticate his items. (Angrist could not be reached for comment, and Heritage would not confirm the seller of the Ruth jersey.)

In 2008, Angrist paid to have Dave Grob, the policy director at Memorabilia Evaluation and Research Services, re-evaluate the jersey. After studying the evidence, Grob believed it was “most likely the one and the same.”

But the rise of photomatching — the practice of side-by-side analysis by experts — as an industry standard left him with another avenue for authentication. So he submitted the jersey to Resolution for the first time in 2019. Resolution had been founded by Robinson, who grew up in the Seattle area collecting game-used bats by Mariners players like Mark McLemore and Bret Boone. He had come across the concept of photomatching on internet message boards that concerned memorabilia, and when he graduated from the University of Washington in 2016, he saw a void in the emerging market.

The Resolution method consists of a three-round process that incorporates an 11-person team, more than 35 image databases and what Robinson calls a “comparison analysis process.” The approach relies on identifying characteristics on the item and the photos that are, in Robinson’s words, “definitively identical and definitively unique” — such as pinstripes, stitching patterns or stains. If the lettering alignment on a jersey is the same for each player on a team, then that cannot be deemed a “unique characteristic” and cannot be used to determine a match. The method eschews what Robinson terms a “process of elimination” analysis, where experts rule out jerseys.

Resolution has matched items going back to the early 20th century, including a Ruth bat and two Ty Cobb items. It scored one of its biggest marketing victories when it matched an aviator helmet that once belonged to Amelia Earhart. (It sold for $825,000 at a Heritage Auction.) The company charges one fee for its process and an additional premium if it finds a match, a point that Robinson emphasizes. When Resolution returned a “no match” verdict on the Ruth jersey in 2019, it was sacrificing additional revenue. And when Angrist submitted the item to Resolution again in 2021 and 2022, the company came back with the same ruling.

“We came to the same conclusion each time it was submitted after re-analyzing all of the characteristics each time,” Robinson said.

Ruth shakes hands with Lou Gehrig after hitting a home run in Game 3 of the 1932 World Series. (Bettman/Getty Images)

It’s not uncommon for high-end collectors to receive a “no match” from the leading photomatch companies. In the case of the Ruth jersey, the decision would have remained an industry secret, but Angrist took the jersey to End-to-End, a new photomatching company started by Blake Panarisi, a 2017 graduate of San Diego State who had worked in data research and analytics. Panarisi sees the art as “a variation of image classification,” which he utilized in the business world. The company returned a match on the jersey, and eventually, so did MeiGray, a firm with a longer track record. (Earlier this year, Panarisi moved to Professional Sports Authenticator, which started a photomatching department and also matched the jersey.)

In an April letter to Angrist from Jim Montague, vice president of MeiGray Authenticated, and Stu Oxenhorn, the company’s director of vintage, the company said the “jersey was photo-matched to two Getty Images (photos) and a photo from The Chicago Daily News showing Ruth standing at the dugout with Lou Gehrig and Joe McCarthy. The photos were taken both prior and during Game 3 of the World Series on October 1, 1932, at Wrigley Field in Chicago.”

The discrepancy between the rulings stemmed from characteristics — in this case, the alignment of letters on the front in relation to buttons — that MeiGray and others used to make their calls. Resolution found that those characteristics were identical to those on other Yankee jerseys from that year, which meant that they were not “definitively unique.” Upon prompting from Heritage, Resolution said it provided “a brief Letter of Opinion detailing the characteristics in player images that showed some level of promise,” which is included on the listing page. Robinson said it was not the first time that another company came to a different conclusion after Resolution failed to match an item.

“We have often felt heavy pressure from some of our most powerful clients to stay silent in these situations,” Robinson said in a press release in late July. “But in this situation, we felt like we had to be open.”

Resolution’s history with the Ruth jersey first became public after reporter Darren Rovell inquired earlier this year. But Robinson said the company had planned to issue a statement about its earlier rulings, citing the importance of the item. The ensuing conversation over the jersey has underscored a larger argument about the standards of photomatching, which are determined by the companies themselves.

“It’s part of the process of photomatching,” Panarisi said. “It’s really an opinion-based service, when you look at it. But there are hard facts to back that opinion.”

Major League Baseball, which operates an authenticator program, does not use photomatching, a league official told The Athletic. It relies solely on on-site employees, who issue stickers to game-used balls, bats and jerseys. Robinson remains hopeful that the questions over the Ruth jersey will benefit the photomatching industry in the long run. As of Wednesday afternoon, the highest bid was at $18.12 million, including a buyer’s premium.

“We’ve heard from a lot of our top auction house clients and individual clients in the last couple weeks,” Robinson said. “They’ve been really supportive of our standards and openness, which has been very encouraging.”

Heritage Auctions has kept relying on Resolution, too. Another item for sale this month is a 1954 game-worn Hank Aaron jersey from his rookie season. The item was photomatched by Resolution and the Heritage listing includes the following disclaimer: “The most ironclad assurance of authenticity is delivered by the good folks at Resolution Photomatching.”

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(Top photo of Babe Ruth with Ping Bodie: Bettmann via Getty Images)

In the days leading up to a long-awaited meeting with 7-year-old Cayden Addison, Minnesota Timberwolves star Naz Reid wants to get one question answered.

Can I lift him? 

Reid is 6 foot 9 and 240 pounds. The top of Cayden’s head barely reaches past Reid’s waist, so the question isn’t of physics. The issue is that Cayden’s little body has been through more in the last four years than most go through in a lifetime.

A rare form of cancer puts Cayden in the hospital for stays that last longer than a month, often pummeling him with horrible pain in his joints and extremities, which makes it difficult for him to walk at times.

So Reid and the Timberwolves want to know if Cayden can physically handle Reid picking him up when the two meet on the team’s practice court in Minneapolis and get to know each other. They had been paired together as part of a campaign to raise awareness for the importance of registering as a stem cell donor, which they hope will help Cayden find a bone marrow donor to finally win an endless fight with leukemia.

Yes, Reid is told. Cayden is feeling good and spry after flying from his home in Virginia to the Twin Cities with his family to meet this famous NBA player who has a burning desire to help him. So after Cayden’s first few shots on the 10-foot basket fall short during their visit, Reid grabs him by the waist and hoists him into the air to make things easier.

“Every kid dreams about that one, right?” Darryl Addison, Cayden’s father, said. “Dreams about an NBA player lifting you up. … It was just amazing watching him get lifted up there like that.”

Darryl and his wife, Courtney, are hoping Reid has another big assist up his sleeve.

Reid’s out-of-nowhere emergence from an undrafted rookie free agent to the NBA’s Sixth Man of the Year last season mirrored the Timberwolves’ rise from the Western Conference gutter to the conference finals in late May. The six-year odyssey has endeared Reid, 25, to the Twin Cities in a way that few have matched. He is so popular that people are only half-joking when they suggest he could run for mayor of Minneapolis and win in a landslide.

When he enters a game at Target Center, usually midway through the first quarter, the fans roar louder than they do for any of the starters during pregame introductions. In the days after the team gave away a Naz Reid beach towel at a game, they were going for $100 on eBay. During the playoffs, a tattoo parlor had a promotion to ink “Naz Reid” on to fans for $25. The artists worked around the clock on hundreds of people.

The Addisons hope that Reid has only just started to lift Cayden.

Reid linked up with Cayden through NMDP, formerly known as the National Marrow Donor Program and Be The Match, to help raise awareness for the need for more people, particularly those of color, to get registered to become a potential blood stem cell donor.

This is a personal fight for Reid.

In the spring of 2022, when the Timberwolves were in the playoffs against the Memphis Grizzlies, Reid lost Rudy Roundtree, a beloved father figure to cancer. Roundtree had helped look after Reid from his teen years through the start of his NBA career. When Roundtree fell ill, doctors tried to get him strong enough to become eligible for a stem cell transplant, but he died before that happened.

“He kind of taught me those ropes with care and being there for someone, the next person, and he kind of installed it into my head and into my life,” Reid said. “So it’s kind of like second nature to me now, giving that hand or that care. So I think this is definitely huge for me.”

Added Sheila Roundtree, Rudy’s widow: “We’re keeping him alive with this.”

When Naz speaks, the people of Minnesota listen. And that is exactly what everyone is counting on.

“Whether it’s for Cayden or someone else,” Courtney Addison said, “if Naz can use his influence to get other people connected with NMDP to use their platform, I really just want this to be a time where we can inspire people to act.”

It all started so innocently for the Addisons. In 2020, Cayden started complaining about some pain in his legs and Courtney thought he was walking funny. His older brother, Christian, went through some similar things when he was younger, and so the parents just chalked it up to growing pains and powered through.

One day when Courtney dropped Cayden off at daycare, the provider mentioned to her that he refused to walk the day before, instead scooting around on the floor. That was enough for Courtney to call the family pediatrician, who told her to bring him in right away.

The initial X-rays and exams did not reveal anything to be concerned about, so the family headed to Courtney’s parents’ house in Richmond, Va., for Easter. Once they arrived, Cayden grew quite sick. A fever spiked and a virtual doctor visit wasn’t very helpful. It was during the height of COVID-19, so Courtney was reluctant to go to the hospital. When the issues were not resolved quickly, Courtney took Cayden to a children’s hospital emergency room.

Cayden was admitted right away for blood work. By the next day, a chaplain, an oncologist and a slew of doctors arrived to tell the Addisons that Cayden had leukemia.

“I lie to you not, I did not hear anything else,” Courtney said. “My body was shaking uncontrollably. I still remember it as clear as day. And I still get emotional thinking about it because I have never sobbed so hard in my life.”

Cayden was in surgery a few hours later to have a port put into his chest, and he began chemotherapy later that day. He was 3.

“We didn’t have any time to process what was going on and to understand what was happening,” Courtney said.

Cayden was eventually diagnosed with Philadelphia chromosome-positive acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a type of cancer that affects just 3 percent of the population. The ensuing four years have been filled with chemotherapy, infections, surgeries, a hospital stay that lasted 37 days, hope and heartbreak.

“He’s such a positive, happy, sweet kid,” Courtney said. “He’s always been like the sweetest kid, and it’s just so heartbreaking that he has to go through this. And so no parent should have to go through this.”

In April 2022, Cayden completed his treatment. Courtney loves the 1999 movie “Office Space,” and so they recreated a scene from the film in which the group of employees destroy a fax machine that had been the bane of their existence. But the Addison family, including older brother Christian, took out their frustrations on Cayden’s disposable chemotherapy pump.

“We were celebrating,” Courtney says. “I got all of the chemo stuff out of the house. I was like, ‘Get it out. I don’t want to look at it ever again.’ ”

Unfortunately for the Addisons, that was just the beginning of Cayden’s battle. The cancer returned, forcing more treatments and leading to the family learning such technical terms as “detectable, but non-quantifiable,” which means that the leukemia is still hiding somewhere in Cayden’s body and will eventually return in full force.

After another round of treatments and therapy concluded just before Thanksgiving last year, doctors shifted their focus toward finding a bone marrow donor, the best chance for getting rid of his leukemia for good.

“At this point, it’s kind of a waiting game,” Courtney said. “It’s either wait to find a donor or wait until the science catches up and we have better treatment options.”

That is where Naz Reid comes in.

Naz Reid has become a fan favorite in Minnesota for hustle plays like this one against Ivica Zubac. (Gary A. Vasquez / USA Today)

Rudy Roundtree was one of the biggest influences on Reid’s life from the time he started emerging as a highly regarded prospect in New Jersey. With the blessing of Reid’s mother, Anashia, Rudy and Sheila Roundtree were there as a support system for Naz. Rudy retired early from his job to follow Naz from Roselle Catholic High to Louisiana State University. When Reid signed as an undrafted rookie free agent with the Timberwolves in 2019, the Roundtrees moved with him to Minnesota.

As a rookie, Reid spent plenty of time in Des Moines, Iowa, playing for the Timberwolves G League team. Rudy would make the 245-mile drive with Naz from Minneapolis, a constant presence and a warm blanket of familiarity in the Midwestern winter.

“Rudy could make him laugh,” Sheila said. “He was a little bit of a jokester.”

For those who know Reid, that is quite an accomplishment.

On a Timberwolves team filled with big talkers and fiery personalities, Reid is the one smoldering in the corner, stone-faced and contemplative. That may be why he was so drawn to Rudy, a larger-than-life extrovert who never met a stranger and never turned down a chance to start a conversation.

Sheila would call him the mayor for his hand-shaking, baby-kissing, gift of gab. He was always there to watch Naz, whether it was in front of a few hundred people in Iowa or 20,000 at Target Center. And when the couple would get home after a game, the fun was just beginning. He and Sheila would sit down and watch the game again, this time on television, so he could hear what the announcers were saying about his “Nazy.”

“If you talk to him, every conversation is about Nazy,” Sheila said. “He really, really believed in him.”

During the 2021-22 season, Rudy started telling Sheila that he was feeling tired all the time. He was diagnosed with leukemia, and after initial treatments were ineffective, he was hospitalized in January 2022.

Rudy did not want Naz to know how serious his situation was, and Reid was focused on helping the Timberwolves push for their first playoff appearance in four seasons. COVID-19 restrictions prevented Reid from visiting his mentor much in the hospital, but Rudy would call him every other day to check in with the conversation often drifting to his game, his mindset and why he wasn’t grabbing more dang rebounds.

“(Rudy) would always say to (Naz), ‘I need to hear your voice to see where your head is at,’” Sheila said.

Roundtree’s doctors were buying time for him to build strength, so he could be a candidate for a bone marrow transplant. He stayed hospitalized until he died that April at 60.

“I think I only got to see him maybe once or twice (at the hospital),” Reid said. “But the last two times that I did get to see were very, very crucial times. So I’m very grateful for that.”

There are about seven million Americans on the NMDP registry, which is connected to a network of registries around the world that counts some 41 million potential donors, according to Erica Jensen, senior vice president of innovation, strategy and marketing for NMDP.

At first glance, that appears to be a vast pool of donors for people like Cayden and Rudy. But the push for more has two primary drivers. First, the need for more ethnically diverse donors to increase the likelihood of finding a match for those in need. Second, the lower-than-ideal rate of converting those on the registry to actual donors. About 58 percent of the people on the register who are called when a match is found decline to go through with the donation, Jensen said.

“Getting the word out, getting people engaged, hearing the stories and then signing up to save a life is impactful,” Jensen said. “And not only signing up to get on the list but then when we call you, you have to say, ‘Yes.’ ”

The Addisons know how that feels. At one point in this journey, they were told a match was found for Cayden. But when contacted, that person decided against donating.

“Devastated,” Courtney said. “Just because I know how hard it is to find a match. And so for us to have such a good match and then that person not be able to donate was devastating because we don’t know how long it’s going to take to find another match.”

As part of World Marrow Donor Day on Sept. 21, NMDP is holding events in Minneapolis, New York and Los Angeles to promote registering to donate, and to saying yes if one is ever paired with someone in need.

Reid will attend the festivities in Minneapolis; NMDP is finalizing agreements with celebrities in the other two markets as well.

“I think we all have something innate in us that wants to do great things,” said Cayden’s father, Darryl. “But when it’s really applied, something like this means the world to a family. We’re thankful for Naz and his family.”

Naz Reid with the Addison family: Cayden, Christian, Courtney and Darryl. (Fran Manzano-Arechiga / Timberwolves)

Sheila Roundtree’s heart swelled as she watched Reid play with Cayden and Christian on the Timberwolves practice court.

She thought back to five years ago when they gathered in New Jersey on NBA Draft night and were stunned when Reid was not selected.

“What y’all looking sad for?” Reid said to the sullen crowd. “We’re good.”

Rudy was particularly conflicted. He wanted this basketball dream for Reid so badly it hurt. He also believed supremely in Reid’s ability to find a way.

“We told him, ‘Listen, we can’t go through the front door. You’re going to have to go through the back,’ ” Sheila said. “He said, ‘I got it.’ ”

A couple of years of toil in Iowa, a transformation of his body into a sleeker, more explosive version and a first-rate player development staff under head coach Chris Finch has helped Reid become an essential player in Minnesota. Last summer he signed a three-year, $42 million contract, which preceded a career season although he is the third big in the rotation, behind Rudy Gobert and Karl-Anthony Towns.

He averaged career highs in points (13.5 per game), rebounds (5.2) and 3-point shooting (41.4 percent) last season and cemented himself as a part of the Timberwolves’ core moving forward. The night of the towel giveaway turned into a full-throated celebration of Reid’s climb from obscurity to fan favorite.

“It was emotional. I had to sit for a minute and say, ‘Oh my God, Rudy, we’re here,’ ” Sheila said. “Because my husband would be going crazy.”

When Reid accepted the NBA Sixth Man award on TNT, he mentioned how important his mentor was in helping him get there. And now that he is firmly established as a player in the league, it’s time to pay it forward.

Sheila remains deeply involved in Reid’s life, going to games and helping him when he’s off the court. She is a cancer survivor herself, another reason Reid is so committed to NMDP.

“When they reached out, I was thinking this is going to be perfect for us,” Sheila said. “If we can do as much as we can to save a life and raise awareness around this disease, that would be wonderful.”

Cayden was a coil of nervous energy, ping-ponging all over the court as he tried to heave the ball up to the rim. For all that he has been through, his parents say that Cayden has been remarkably upbeat, laughing and joking through all the treatments, the remissions and reappearances, the hospital stays and the blood draws.

It reminds Sheila of someone.

“I was like, oh my goodness, he’s got a lot of energy,” she said with a laugh. “That’s how Rudy was. Rudy was a lot of energy. Real playful.”

Naz wore a wide smile on his face, the kind of smile that Rudy would put there. He watched Christian help his younger brother and encourage him, even when the shots weren’t falling. He saw so much toughness in such a little body that he couldn’t help but lift him toward the rim. As tall as he is, Reid knows he can only lift Cayden so high. But the right donor can take him to new heights.

“You can kind of tell him what he’s going through, but he doesn’t really understand what he’s going through,” Reid said. “So definitely at such a young age, you want to help him as much as possible, just to give him a second chance.”

Every year, according to NMDP, 18,000 people are diagnosed with life-threatening blood cancers or blood disorders that could be treated or cured with a blood stem cell transplant. For more information about joining the donor registry list online, go to https://my.bethematch.org/s/join?language=en_US&joinCode=NazReid

(Photo illustration: Dan Goldfarb  / The Athletic; photos: Getty; Jordan Johnson / NBAE | Fran Manzano-Arechiga / Timberwolves)

John Sterling may come out of retirement to call the New York Yankees’ postseason, according to sources briefed on WFAN, the Yankees and Sterling’s plans.

Early this season in April, Sterling, 86, stepped away from the booth after 36 years. The Yankees held a retirement ceremony for him. A trio of Rickie Ricardo, Justin Shackil and Emmanuel Berbari has replaced him.

This week, Sterling made a brief appearance in the Yankees booth, teaming up with analyst Suzyn Waldman to call a few innings.

Over the next few days, he is expected to discuss with Audacy New York president Chris Oliviero if he will return for the playoffs, according to a person briefed on the plans. Oliviero, who oversees WFAN, has not officially asked Sterling yet.

“The ball is in their court,” Sterling said. “They would have to ask. I would feel bad for the guys who have done the games all year.”

Oliviero declined to comment.

While it is possible that WFAN and the Yankees could have Sterling call home playoff games, initial indications from those briefed on discussions is that he would need to commit to all home and road playoff games. Travel was one of the major reasons Sterling retired in April. On Thursday, via phone, he said the scheduling of the playoffs makes that aspect easier.

If he returns, Sterling could call a few regular-season games to tune up.

Regardless of whether he returns or not in October, Sterling is expected to resume retirement after the season.

The Yankees and WFAN would then consider Ricardo, Shackil and Berbari for the job while also conducting a national search.

Recently, WFAN and the Yankees had FS1 “Breakfast Ball” co-host Craig Carton call some games. While Carton is not a full-time candidate, team and radio executives liked what they heard and would invite him back. It is unlikely to happen this season as Carton’s “Breakfast Ball” responsibilities go into full swing in September.

Required reading

(Photo: Brandon Sloter / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)