The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 11

I've noticed lately that as they age, the one really noticeable place people gain weight is in the face. Even athletes, whose job it is to stay in impeccable shape. Just look at Tony Perez's Super Veterans card in 1983 Topps; he almost looks like two different people.

I bring this up because the more I look back through all these cards of Fred McGriff, the more it appears that he didn't gain face weight. Can that be right? His helmet looked comically oversized even late into his career (whereas someone like Tony Gwynn filled out under his helmet).

It's always shocking when you see an old retired athlete (take Larry Bird for example), because usually the first thing you think of is Hey, he really let himself go. And yet, take a look at this photo from a dinner in 2007. McGriff doesn't look like Rickey Henderson, but he also doesn't look like he stopped working out occasionally.

Anyway, I didn't really want to talk about face fat. I wanted to talk about good old National Packtime. Take a look at the lineup of this little set from 1995:

Alex Rodriguez
Barry Bonds
Cal Ripken
Ken Griffey Jr.
Tony Gwynn
Frank Thomas
Mike Piazza
Will Clark
Juan Gonzalez
Jeff Bagwell
Kenny Lofton
Fred McGriff
Deion Sanders
Matt Williams
Jose Canseco
Bob Hamelin
Tim Salmon
Raul Mondesi

You know, for all the future Hall of Famers and on-the-cusp guys in the set, the guy I was most excited by was Raul Mondesi. (You want to read something interesting? Read Mondesi's wikipedia page.) I still feel like Mondesi could, if he wanted to, get back into playing shape and make an impact on a team like Pittsburgh or Seattle. And I bet that with a few rigorous workouts, that face fat will leather itself taut. (Scroll down to the bottom of this page to see what Mondesi looks like now.)

A Suggestion for Topps

You know, I want to be excited by this. It looks like they even got Marvin from Pulp Fiction. You know, the guy they accidently shoot and have to call Harvey Keitel to mop up the blood. Well, I don't see a credit for Back on Topps on his imdb.com page, but that really looks like him.

I also like the reference to the "cocaine out of a bread truck," though if we remember back to last year, I believe it was a Mr. Softee truck out in Jamaica, Queens, where the driver was selling cocaine on the side. (His trick? Double-cupping the sundaes. Ingenious.)

So yeah, I want to get excited. But you know what would really get me jazzed on this series--and yes, I just said 'jazzed', which hopefully came across in a completely non-sexual way, though now that I've taken the energy to explain probably does come across as sexual--?

I think you know...

That's right: a re-occurring character who either appears in a dream sequence or within the wacky corporate world of Topps HQ who also happens to be on a mini Allen & Ginter card (or 1975 Topps Mini). Or is Lil' Kwame Brown.

This character would best be played by a real-life athlete, with his character name simply his real name with 'Baby' or 'Lil'' in front of it. Like "Baby Rafael Furcal" or "Lil' Dmitri". Actually, that last one's not bad. Get Dmitri Young on the phone to play the Topps egghead archivist (who expounds on his love of gem mint cards and also happens to be trapped on a mini A & G card).

And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Mets...

Buck up, all you lowly Mets fans lurking out there, tonight's the first night of the off-season. And you know what that means: it's time to fire up the old hot stove. Last year you guys found the marble in the oatmeal and got to drink from the fire hose (ie, kept Johan Santana away from the Yankees and Red Sox), and next year you'll get your new stadium. So thinks aren't all that bad, right?

I mean, in 50 years who will remember how your team choked down the stretch not just once, but two years in a row? And I think it's safe to say that history will forget how Carlos Beltran took a called third strike to knock the Mets out of the playoffs that other year, right?

Lederhosen Lucil - You Suck
Koufax - Roll the Dice


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New Layout

Looking for quality, independent writing about baseball cards and card collecting? You're in the right place. I felt it was time for a layout revamp. This template's a little ugly, but it gets the job done. Three columns should work, and yes, I'll be adding more links over the next few days. If there's something you'd like me to add, let me know. I'm currently figuring out how to get the old header image in there. That one may take a few days.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 10

Back in 2003, the popular rumor in Boston was that the Red Sox, White Sox, and Rangers were going to put together a three-team trade that would send Manny Ramirez to Texas, Nomar Garciaparra to Chicago, and Magglio Ordonez and Alex Rodriguez to Boston. Nobody knows for sure what would've happened had that trade gone through, but for a minute or two there I could see A-Rod and Ordonez in Sox uniforms.

There have been other players whom I thought would end up on the Sox one way or another (Todd Helton is at the top of that list), but one guy I never saw on the Red Sox was Fred McGriff. Maybe it's because I was raised on the Lou Gorman-led Sox ("What would we do with Willie McGee?"), but the Sox already had Mo Vaughn at first. What would we have done with Fred McGriff?

My grandfather grew up in a small town in South Dakota. His sisters were the switchboard operators for the town, and his father the postman and local semi-pro baseball team manager. He likes to tell the story of how, towards the end of one season, his father lured a star pitcher away from a rival team. And then, instead of pitching him in the big games that followed, kept him on the bench. When asked why he would do that, my grandfather laughs and says that his dad had the luxury of not using the star pitcher--as long as he wasn't pitching for the other team.

And when the A-Rod and Ordonez trades fell through, what did the Yankees do? Did they say "Why do we need A-Rod when we already have Derek Jeter?"

This is one of those little things that we with the Lou Gorman mindset never figure out: having Mo Vaughn at first and Fred McGriff, be it at DH or lounging on the bench, perhaps could've pushed the Sox closer to the pennant. Instead we defensively scoff at even considering the possibility.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 9

This afternoon I sat by the side of the road, waiting for the crosstown bus. I sat there for what seemed like forever, but was probably no longer than 20 minutes. I finally got so impatient that I crouched next to the bus stop sign, counting the seconds between a car appearing around the bend and it passing me. I also got to thinking... If I can't hardly wait 20 minutes for the bus, what's it like to wait six years from the time you retire to when you first become eligible for the Hall of Fame?

What's it like, the anticipation? Part of me thinks 'waiting for the bus' is a good analogy here. Sometimes it's on time, sometimes you have to wait a little longer, and sometimes it never comes at all.

A lot can happen in six years. Whole lives can change (but there's the Hall of Fame ballot announcement date, circled with permanent marker on the calendar in the back of your mind). For some guys, it's a given that the Hall will call (hey, that rhymes). Guys like Rickey Henderson, Greg Maddux, Craig Biggio--these guys don't have to worry.

But is too much emphasis placed on being an inductee in the first year of eligibility? It took Duke Snider eleven years of voting to make the Hall of Fame (first appeared in 1970, inducted in 1980), Joe Cronin ten years (1947-1956), Don Drysdale ten years (1975-1984), and Bob Lemon 13 years (1964-1976). And those players are just four examples. There are plenty of others.

It's guys like Jim Rice, David Concepcion, and Dale Murphy who get their hopes up, only to have them crushed year after year. And I guess I'll probably have to add Fred McGriff's name to that list in a few years. McGriff becomes eligible next year (for 2010 enshrinement), and while I'll be pulling for him, these days 493 career home runs don't seem to be enough to hang your legacy on.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 8

From Fred McGriff's entry on wikipedia.org:

"In 2000, the production company Rocco's Jobbers produced a pilot for a television series based loosely on McGriff and the "Crime Dog" nickname. The concept of the series revolved around a professional baseball player who moonlighted as a crime-fighting vigilante named "The Crime Dog". The project was a major creative and financial disaster, failing to get picked up by any networks. It is believed that McGriff himself has the only surviving copy of the pilot episode, which was given to him by his friend and former teammate, David Wells. On casting sheets used to promote the project, the comedy-action series was described as "Major League meets Blade", referencing two successful movie franchises. Kirk Jones, who played the titular character in Blade: The Series in 2005, was cast as The Crime Dog in the pilot.

McGriff has appeared in commercials for Tom Emanski Baseball Training videos on ESPN since 1991, which are still aired to this day on the network (one of television's longest running commercials ever). Because of the frequency and longevity of the Emanski commercials, ESPN analyst Kenny Mayne coined a second, less used nickname for McGriff, "Baseball Superstar", as he was referenced in the commercials as "Baseball Superstar Fred McGriff."

That's a lot to digest, but one thing's for certain: my admiration of the man just grew ten-fold. Like every other sports fan trawling late-night ESPN for west coast scores, I was aware of the Emanski commercials where McGriff walks stiffly across the diamond while juvenile automatons field an endless series of soul-crushing grounders.

I was not, however, aware of the failed pilot. I need to see that show. Should I make it my goal to a) get McGriff to acknowledge the existence of The Baseball Card Blog and b) get him to send me a copy of the tape?

Um, yes. Definitely.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 7

Contrary to what Donruss would want you to believe, Fred McGriff never won an MVP award. Did he ever deserve one? No, probably not.

But so what? Teams need players like McGriff to be successful. In a similar vein, someone recently said that teams wouldn't win with a whole roster of Dustin Pedroias. Why not? The guy has over 200 hits, 100 runs, he hits for average, he's a good fielder... what's not to like? Is it because he's short? Scrappy? Prematurely bald? Is it because he does that weird thing with his mouth and eyes before every swing? The same could be said for Fred McGriff. Could a team win with a roster of Fred McGriffs? Who wouldn't want a bunch of guys consistently smacking 35 homers, driving in runs and hitting for average?

Though until recently Pedroia had been putting together an MVP-like season, guys like Pedroia and McGriff aren't really MVP-caliber players. They're complementary guys. They're guys who make a lineup formidable. And though they're not a given lineup's heavy hitter, they're guys pitchers don't want to face in any situation.

They're like Thursday night. It's not quite Friday, but you're almost there.

More Miscuts

A few weeks ago, Reader Scott sent me a great big stack of blank-fronts, blank-backs, wrong-backs, misprints, and miscuts. To celebrate, I've put them with my other screwups in a binder.

The most interesting thing, besides the sheer quantity of screwups Scott sent, is that the blank-fronts he sent were broken down like so: 22 from 1989 Topps; 19 from 1990 Topps; and 14 from 1991 Topps. OK, that's a lot from each of those years. But here's where it gets crazy and leads me to put out a somewhat far-fetched conspiracy theory: the checklist numbers of the cards are grouped. For instance, here are the card numbers for the 1989 group:

237
246
681
685
686
690
691
692
694
697
702
703
716
717
718
722
723
757
783
788
789
792

So, that's like four separate checklist groups (and yes, I think it's awesome that #792 was included in the stack). And the same sort of breakdown is true for the 1990 and 1991 groups, respectively. It leads me to believe that there was at least one entire set from 1989, 1990, and 1991 (if not other years as well) printed as blank-fronts.

In other miscut news: I've been going through boxes, putting together the 1976 set (still need about 150 cards), and in the stacks of commons I've found miscut wrong-backs: Dick Drago (Wilbur Howard/Dave Parker) and Bill North (Father/Son Hegan/Father/Son Smalley).

Also, I offer no explanation on the double-prints, except to say that they may be the coolest cards I've ever seen. And yes, they're blank-backed.

Thanks Scott, you've totally made my year!

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 6

I never saw Fred McGriff play in person. And yet, here he is in Fenway Park circa 1989-1990. A friend of mine used to have tickets about 20 rows behind home plate and I remember going to a number of games around that time.

Nor did I ever really watch games that McGriff played in. My family, like everybody else who got cable, got all the Braves games on TBS. But that didn't mean I watched them. So then here's my question: Can I legitimately call McGriff my favorite player if I a) never saw him play in person and b) never made much of an effort to catch his games on TV? I think I'm safe.

McGriff fit what I was looking for in a baseball hero. To me, he was obscure. And if you know anything about my values system, obscurity ranks very high. Oh sure, he wasn't a face in the crowd to fans of the game. But ask a random person on the street who McGriff was and I'd bet nine out of ten wouldn't know. And yet, here's the funny thing: if McGriff had spent his career in a baseball mecca like Boston or New York, I'm completely convinced that his national presence would've rivaled that of Boggs, Mattingly or any other of his more famous contemporaries.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 5

A job I've always enjoyed is planning. In college I did the advertising and promotional planning for my school's campus movie theater, and one of my responsibilities at my old job was media planning for a variety of the firm's clients (media planning refers to deciding where and when an ad will run). In my new job I'll be doing more of the same, which is fine by me. There's just something about planning an event and then sitting back and watching it be a success that is exciting to me. I guess I've got a behind-the-scenes streak.

You could make an argument that McGriff's career was all about excelling behind the scenes. Before winning the 1995 World Series as part of the Atlanta Braves, McGriff's defining achievement came in 1990, when he was traded by the Blue Jays to the Padres (with Tony Fernandez) for Joe Carter and Roberto Alomar. That was, without a doubt, one of the premier trades (if not the trade) of the early Nineties. And it wouldn't have happened without Fred McGriff.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 4

Fred McGriff was selected by the Yankees as the last pick in the 9th round of the 1981 June draft, fresh out of high school and then as soon as he started to get his feet wet BLAM! Traded to the Blue Jays with Dave Collins and Mike Morgan for Dale Murray and Tom Dodd. Drafted one summer, traded the end of the next year. That's either a major confidence booster (that another team would want him) or a huge letdown (the most storied team in the sport gave up on him enough to throw him in on a minor trade).

As fans it's exciting to welcome new players onto our favorite teams, but what about how the players themselves feel? It's no wonder that many reiterate to the media that it's just a business and this is the way this business works. Because what are the alternatives? You can pout, go AWOL, or grit your teeth, say goodbye to your friends and pack your suitcase for the next town.

I'm a Red Sox fan, but it's not hard to see why Brian Giles, though marooned on a terrible Padres team, wouldn't accept a trade to the contending Sox. He has a life to consider, and he's been around long enough to be afforded a choice in his future. Why would you sacrifice that?

(I've never been traded. But if I were, I bet I could bring at least fifteen head of cattle and a few bushels of wheat. Or a bag of balls.)

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 3

I always wanted to have a nickname. Something that had to do with an experience, or perhaps from not being able to pronounce my name correctly as a child, or even something wildly nonsensical that had nothing to do with anything. Like Crime Dog.

In the grand scheme of things, Crime Dog isn't bad (for those not in the know, it refers to MacGruff, the bloodhound in the trenchcoat who encouraged kids on Saturday morning to 'Take a Bite Out of Crime'), though slightly bizarre. It's better than being referred to as Three-Finger or Stumpy. Plus it shortens easily to 'Dog.' As in, 'Dog, you can carve the turkey' or 'Hurry Dog, cut the red wire. No no, the red one!'

But that's just the thing about nicknames: you don't decide if you get one; someone else does. And though most baseball nicknames derive from the player's last name, I would bet that Crime Dog was the product of nickname evolution. You don't just wake up one morning with a nickname epiphany (unless your name is Shaquille O'Neal).

So unless I become a gangster, a character on a TV show, or join a baseball team, I'm resigned to spend my life as Ben. Not Piano Legs or Baby Face. Just Ben. Only, simply Ben.

I guess it could be worse. At least I won't be called Steve Urkel for the rest of my life.

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 2

I had a great idea a few years back: get baseball players and other celebrities to autograph my high school yearbook. How cool would it be to open your yearbook and have, amongst notes from your old friends, Fred McGriff's autograph? Or a 'Best Wishes' from Jonathan Franzen? I'm all about autographs in unexpected places.

If I weren't so shy in real life I'd do it. Or at least have an autograph book, filled with neighbors and other people I've met.

McGriff hit 34 home runs in the strike-shortened 1994 season. He was on pace for 48, had the season gone the full 162 games.

Hey Apatow, Don't Forget the 'Stros

With the news that Judd Apatow's upcoming film Ped-O-Van will feature Jonah Hill as a bumbling community worker named Glenn Davis, I can't help but hope that the filmmaker will remember to include the yellow, orange and red of a throwback Astros jersey in Hill's wardrobe.

Something tells me that chances on seeing an old Astros jersey are slim, probably as likely as the possibility of seeing a character with an un-ironic mustache in an Apatow comedy.


Weekly Dig (Boston)
Official Site

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 1

I found an old binder down in the basement this morning containing my Fred McGriff collection (all 99 cards of it), so I've decided what better way to celebrate my favorite player than with a daily proclamation. I was thinking of calling it 99 Days of Fred McGriff, but the descriptive quality always on the tip of my tongue with him was "underrated." And that's when it hit me: underrated-ness isn't just a term to describe a career, but a way of life. We're all a little bit underrated, in our own way. For instance, my skills with Microsoft Excel are underrated thanks to my prowess in avoiding circular functions.


Today's Tao of McGriff: Underrated is hitting 100 first-pitch home runs. (Baseball Reference)

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7PM - Thursday, October 2, 2014
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Miscuts: Hall of Fame Edition

Today I baked alive at Brimfield Flea Market in Brimfield, Massachusetts. If you've never been there, it's 17 open fields strung along Route 20, which for three weeks of each year are crammed full of leathery-skinned antiques dealers, junk collectors, hoboes, drug addicts, and certified weirdos. And a good time is had by all.

This year I went twice (July and September), each time filling up on weird stuff. July's big score was an uncut sheet of Wacky Packages from 1979. This time around I brought home a safe deposit box from an old bank, which coincidentally is the perfect size for holding baseball cards.

I also scored on miscut cards. On top of the major haul from Scott in New Jersey (more on Scott's Haul in a later post), these cards are helping make miscuts my next big 'thing.' And just my luck, all three of the miscuts I found today feature Hall of Famers.





Truthfully, the Reggie miscut is kind of lame, as it's almost impossible to determine the identity of the player on the other card. It's obvious that Jeff Newman is the other player on the Jenkins card simply because the back is cut so that his name is on there. The other player on the Carlton card (really the best card I found today) is Sudden Sam McDowell (#720). It's interesting to note that McDowell is not in the Hall of Fame, though he was 11 strikeouts away in 1967 from leading the AL in K's for six consecutive seasons (1965-1970), and he was traded practically straight-up for Gaylord Perry in 1971.

Fantastic Card of the Day

Something is wrong with this picture. Yes, there is no actual team depicted on this team card, but perhaps more importantly, there are no fountains beyond the outfield fence of Kauffman Stadium. It's one thing for a terrible team with no discernible national star (Mark Grudzielanek and Emil Brown, anyone?) to downplay a 100-loss season. But it's another thing entirely to rob a sure-to-be-boring card of its one potential highlight. When they don't even bother to turn on the fountains, you know they've given up.

It's almost like the Royals were trying to slip by undetected for the year. It's a bold move, one that I'm not sure I agree with, but an interesting tactic nonetheless. Let me see if I've got this right: if you don't put out a team photo, nobody will remember how much you sucked.

It's Official: The Oklahoma City Thunder Have the Lamest Logo in the NBA

Pack Break 2: NBA Boogaloo

Fantastic Card of the Day

Wow, it's late. Or at least it is for me. I guess this could wait til tomorrow... Except... I have a feeling that this card will show up in my dreams tonight, taunting me to figure out the Mystery of the Two Well-Dressed Men in the Stands Behind Burt Hooton. Seriously, I feel like the third Hardy Boy trying to make sense of who those two guys are at the top of the bleachers. Wait... there were only two Hardy Boys, weren't there. Hmm. Well, you know any time a book series clocks in at well over 50 volumes, I say it's okay to position yourself as an alternate. You gotta figure one of the two is gonna get sick of the other one, or will sprain an ankle and can't get past page 100, or will be killed off or something. Makes sense for there to be a stand-in, stretching and loosening up somewhere in the background. Right.

Anyway, I've come up with a list of possibilities on the identities of these guys:

• Jake and Elwood Blues Problem with this theory is that they're a), about ten years early, and b), not wearing hats and sunglasses. Other than that, one's tall, the other's fat, and they're at a Cubs practice... Oh, but that's another problem, isn't it? This is surely Cubs spring training, and wouldn't Jake be in lockup at Joliet round about this time?

• The Righteous Brothers Man, how great would it be if these two guys were the Righteous Brothers? Problem with this theory is that there's nobody sitting around them. The girls would be swooning all over them, and yes, when I say "girls" I really mean "old ladies in the bleachers at a Cubs spring training practice."

• The Everly Brothers They both look a little too tall to be the Everly Brothers, but you never know. Again, not likely, as there are no guitars around them, and no girls swooning. Yes, "girls" still equals "old ladies in the bleachers at a Cubs spring training practice."

• Bonafide G-Men OK, here's the scene: practice has just ended and the players are walking off the field in clusters, joking and making plans for dinner. G-Men #1 and #2 walk down out of the bleachers and up to a random player, flicking cigarettes out of their mouths and pulling out notebooks. They say they just have some questions and the player gets real jumpy (cue fast-tempo bongo roll, to build suspense). The G-Men tell him to cool it, the player freaks and makes a break for it, and G-Man #1 pulls out a walkie-talkie and calls for back-up (cue horns hitting the first hook of the theme song). The scene freezes for a split-second and the title comes up "FOOT CHASE!" Then it goes back to the action. I'm thinking real late-Sixties, early-Seventies cop show, full of tense drama and action-packed, uh, action sequences. Oh, so it would turn out that the random player was really a petty numbers runner who would cave in interrogation and squeal on the mafia boss. Or something. It would be different week to week.

• Team Executives or Scouts Snooze. Seriously, who wears a sportscoat and black slacks to a spring training practice?

Or maybe they're not in the stands at all, but are:

• Tiny Devil and Angel, perched on Burt Hooton's shoulder It's a stretch, mainly because a), they'd travel with him throughout his pitching motion, and b), they're not technically perched on Burt's shoulder. I bet, though, that if he were standing up they'd be right there, leaning in to tell him a dirty joke.