Ruth was baseball's first megastar, but he played in the 1920s-30s when endorsement infrastructure barely existed—he had to physically tour to monetize, barnstorming town to town like a traveling salesman. DiMaggio inherited a world Ruth built: by the 1950s-60s, national TV, national brands, and mass consumer culture meant his endorsements could scale infinitely without him leaving New York. Ruth's deals were handshake agreements; DiMaggio signed contracts with Mr. Coffee, Bowery Savings Bank, and Yankee-branded everything. One guy was inventing the game; the other was playing it when the playbook already existed.

The real killer: Ruth's spending matched his earning. He was a hedonist who treated money like it would never run out, and frankly, during his peak earning years in the 1920s, it didn't. DiMaggio, shaped by Depression-era caution and guided by sharp business advisors, actually *kept* money. Ruth made an estimated $8M in today's dollars but burned through it; DiMaggio's $45M represents actual accumulated wealth, compounded through real estate, business partnerships, and calculated endorsement longevity that stretched decades after his playing days ended.

The final arbitrage: DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak became *mythology*, which is worth more than any single season's salary. Ruth was the legend; DiMaggio was the *brand*. By the time marketing and celebrity management professionalized in the 1960s-70s, DiMaggio's team locked in lifetime deals and image rights that Ruth never imagined. He basically got paid for being iconic for 40+ years, while Ruth got paid to play baseball. One monetized excellence; the other monetized immortality.