
I don't want to talk about Ugie Urbina.
But, strangely enough, I have been thinking about the idea of legacy lately, and more specifically, the back of Jorge Orta's 1987 Topps card. On it, his blurb says that he's enshrined in the Mexican Baseball Hall of Fame. This morning before work I dug a little deeper and found that the Salón de la Fama del Beisbol is located on the grounds of a brewery in Monterrey, Mexico. And not only is Jorge "Charolito" Orta a member, but so is Josh Gibson and someone named Homobono Marquez (I'd tell you how good he is, but all the pages are in Spanish and I don't really read Spanish, so I'll just say he's 'all good'). Here are a few links to other baseball-related Halls of Fame around the world:
Mexican Baseball Hall of Fame
Venezuelan Baseball Hall of Fame
Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame
Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame
The real kicker will be to wait and see if the Museo de Beisbol in Venezuela inducts Urbina while he's doing time. Something tells me he's not going to be able to save that situation.
Where Old Packs Go To Die
I was in Boston last weekend and, as any card collector up there can tell you, Newbury Comics sells cards--and most of the time sells them for very cheap, much cheaper than you'd expect. I remember a few years ago I bought up the Harvard Square store's supply of Heritage basketball at $0.49 pack. Anyway, whenever I'm there I check them out. I thought it would be no different this time around, maybe get some new packs on the cheap...except this time around I think I may have been the one who ended up with 'SAP' written across my forehead in huge block letters.
I couldn't resist...goddamn Tri-Star...stupid box of packs...what's $20?...I don't know if you've seen these in hobby shops or big box stores or on eBay, but I bought one of those boxes with a picture of a 1952 Topps pack on them. The type across the front of the box screams 'Find the Hi-Series 1952 Topps Pack!!!', and of course there are other old packs worth hundreds of dollars that you could possibly (never) find. So I bought one, and immediately after I bought it--even before I had opened it to take a look at the 20 packs inside--I knew I had been duped. My immediate reaction was that if it was another Tri-Star product (which I'm pretty sure it was), then like the 'Find the Honus Wagner', the packs inside would be worthless, the sum total of the cards would be roughly five dollars (if that) and I'll be out $20.
So I got it home, ripped 'er open and, what do you know, I was staring at a graveyard of packs. But I had to hand it to Tri-Star, and if not Tri-Star then whoever came up with this idea: they found a way to sell old, worthless packs that many dealers had most likely already written off at a loss. I got a lot of packs from 1991, 1992, early Nineties, late Eighties, and one or two weirdos and oddballs that I had forgotten about. I opened most of them, which was cathartic and did momentarily make me forget my post-buy guilt, and left those up in Boston.
In amongst the weirdos and oddballs, the garbage and the junk, I did get three good packs (or at least I would consider three good): 1984 Topps wax, 1989 Topps cello and 1988 Topps American Baseball (sold in Europe). I've been saving these to rip tonight.
1989 Topps Cello
I'm going to start with the 1989 Topps cello. The more I examine it, the more it looks like it was hand-packaged in cellophane, which is totally bizarre, but could also guarantee that there's no chance that I'll find a Randy Johnson or a Gary Sheffield in this pack. I already know I got Dave Winfield and Gregg Jefferies, as they're on the top and bottom of the stack, respectively. And as a sidebar, isn't that the saddest if your Jefferies? Your card is in what is probably a hand-packed cello pack. That means that either someone put you there deliberately to get ride of you, or didn't care enough about you to set you aside. Sad days for you, Gregg Jefferies. At least you're not facing 14 years in a Venezuelan prison.Well that's totally messed up: I just flipped through the stack of cards and while there's 34 cards (definitely not standard cello pack size), there are two of each of the first six cards: Winfield, Dan Quisenberry, Kelly Downs, Steve Lyons (out of curiousity, I wonder how Psycho would do in a Venezuelan prison), Eric 'Ugly Like Joey Ramone' Plunk, and Julio Franco. Getting two Winfields, two Q's and two Francos no doubt helps the success rate of the pack, but they're really pushing this pack that much closer towards the bizarre.
The rest of the pack: Mike Capel (aka Pat Tabler), Checklist 133-264, Mike Pagliarulo, Chili Davis, Bill Long, Larry Parrish, Jeff Robinson, Brady Anderson, Jim Rice, Wil Tejada, Mike Jackson, Danny Cox, Checklist 529-660, Mike Witt, Tim Laudner, Mookie Wilson, Mark Parent, Bob Ojeda (bad luck with a lawn trimmer, no such bad luck with a machete), Don Mattingly, Ted Power, Floyd Youmans.
Success Rate: 35.29%
I guess Success Rate is not something you can use to judge a pack when 34 cards is your population. It's a mighty tall order to fill.
1988 Topps American BaseballTrying to drum up interest in American Baseball, Topps sold these cards in Europe in the late Eighties. As you can imagine, they were a flop. Subsequently, they aren't worth very much today. Let's see who I got. Five cards to a pack, one stick of gum...the pack is a boring though omniscent tear-away clear plastic (they should've gone for wax). The cards are smaller than regular sized post-war cards. Greg Walker, Cal Ripken, Eric Davis, Tim Raines, Pedro Guerrero.
Success Rate: 80%
Again, maybe Success Rate isn't a good judge on packs after all, as it doesn't work for packs larger or smaller than 10 to 15 cards in size. Then again, this is a good pack, especially after staring down the barrel of Greg Walker, Chicago White Sox. These cards probably didn't have a chance of success anyways, what with baseball not being played in Europe. It's almost like if Topps unveiled a Cricket card set here: even though the rest of the world's wrapped up right now in the Cricket World Cup, and cricket and rugby and soccer the rest of the time, the United States doesn't care because it's never cared. A card set wouldn't stand a chance.1984 Topps Wax
I've never opened a wax pack from 1984 Topps before. Should I hold off? Wait and have it graded as an unopened pack? Nah, who am I kidding? It's from 1984. The whole set is selling for under $80. Besides, I can hear the gum moving around in there when I shake it. Nice. All the cards are warped from age. I bet this pack was kept in a box in a basement or on a radiator somewhere. Plus there's a nice big wax stain on the back of Mike Smithson. Flip it over the pack and there's Houston Jimenez. Next it's Jerry Augustine, fat-faced Glenn Wilson, backup catcher Jeff Newman, Joe Beckwith, Dusty Baker (most likely my star of the pack), Dave Winfield (I stand corrected), Cliff Johnson (already touting the GWRBI--Johnson's claim to fame, if I remember correctly), The Venerable Max
Venable, Rick Honeycutt, Checklist 1-132, Bob Clark, Odell Jones and Glenn Abbott.Success Rate: 20%
My first pack of 1984 Topps was horrible.
And it all happened so fast.
I'll cherish it forever.
Army of 792
If you had to choose sides right now, which would you choose: Topps or Upper Deck? 
What makes basketball cards so great is that nine times out of ten the card will feature an action shot, which means you’ll not only get a photo of the featured player, but one that includes other players as well. This is almost an entirely foreign concept in baseball. (Which reminds me: Wouldn’t it be great if Topps put out a subset or an ultra-rare chase set called ‘Baseball’s Greatest Brawls’? It could be a ten card set, with a parallel relic set featuring a leaky shard of an actual battery thrown on the field at Yankee Stadium during a game against the Sox, a ripped swatch from a bloodied jersey, or maybe a piece of a chipped tooth? Then the back of the card could be headshots of all the players involved and what they said to reporters after the game, or what they were supposed to have said on the field that started everything (like Varitek telling A-Rod that his pitchers didn’t throw at .260 hitters). I think it would be great, and besides specials and team photo cards, Brawl cards are the only way you’ll ever get more than one or two guys on one baseball card).

which may have very well been the case, because Topps didn’t start the Archives reprints line until 1991 (1953) and didn’t start Heritage until 2001. Anyway, I don’t know what happened to all of them, but the ones I have found all have great photos, really strong color, great backs and spotty (if completely representative of the time period) player choice. I especially like the ‘The Investment Advisor Says:’ on the back of the 1970-flavored cards. I’m glad I found these.
















How many more years can Topps do the Heritage line? You have to think they’ll do it as long as it makes them money, right? Or is it more of a question of design? I’d like to think it’s the latter, that at a certain point they’d stop (after the well of classic design runs dry). So how many more years? Well, they’re set for now, because this set is almost flawless, a huge improvement from last year’s Heritage ’57 (and I’ve always been a much bigger fan of the 1957 design than 1958). Topps had stellar design years in 1959, 1960 (to a certain degree), 1963, 1965, 1967, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1977, 1978…but Upper Deck compromised more than a few of those years with their own rip-off Vintage line, and do we really need or want Heritage ’78?
This set—one of the strongest Heritage sets in years—represents Topps at the top of their design arc of the 1950s-1960s. Gone are the unneeded (and historically inaccurate) action poses. Instead: lots of close-ups and medium close-ups. Now I know beyond a doubt that not only does Jeff Weaver look exactly like Zach from Gilmore Girls, but he will probably fight you if you tell him. Gone is the washed-out photography that seriously marred last year’s Heritage ’57 set. Taking their places are strong colors: from the better-quality photography to the iconic solid color background; even the backs feel stronger than last year’s. The deep red may be a little hard to read in low light, but for some reason when I read them I get the strongest urge to learn how to chew tobacco. This is also odd, because I’ve always considered 1958’s design to be the most elemental Topps ever produced, almost to the flash-card degree. Like all great art, it’s all things to all people: elegant, abstract, simple, international, clean, crisp, modern, and yet I find it very pre-school (I think it would be fascinating to track down some of the old Topps designers and have them explain how they went from the almost no-design design of 1958 to the ultra modern, beatnik, jazz-record-and-advertising design of 1959. The two years couldn’t be more different. I almost expect the explanation to be that there was a change in art department leadership). Because today’s Topps designers didn’t muck around with the base card design (or any aspect thereof), it works.

They should really do a design overhaul on this one, and while they’re at it, they should re-evaluate where they’re getting their images. This one of Kaline is obviously taken off his 1967 card. Not even the right decade! How dumb do they think we are?
At least in the Mantle set’s defense, it commemorates his 1958 home run title and it’s printed on the same stock as the set, so it sort of fits. But the Rodriguez cards have nothing to do with anything, plus they are printed on thin glossy stock. They feel out of place in Heritage packs, like Topps got the target audience wrong. They’re as bad and feel as worthless as the Hobby Masters from last year’s Series 2 hobby packs.
one thing holding me back from going for the master set (I’m 11 cards shy of the master Heritage ’54 set), and it’s this: in 1958, card #273 featured Hal Smith of the Cardinals. Smith, possibly to stem the tide of questions about who was who between the two Hal Smith’s, possibly because he was just having fun or was out of his mind, had his photo taken with his mask on. It’s one of the greatest cards ever. He’s even giving a sign, which to a little boy might look like he’s gesturing inappropriately. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he’s smiling, and it sure as hell is creepy. That’s why I’m crossing my fingers that there’s a card of Joe Mauer or Jason Varitek with their mask and pads on, hopefully giving an equally inappropriate-looking sign. Then I’ll know it’s okay to dive in head-first.