Regardless of everything you are about to read, I’m not really into the aesthetics of baseball cards. In fact, as it stands now -- with me posting old cards to the Internet for the enjoyment of no one in particular -– the worse a card looks, the better.

That said, from like 1988 until at least 1991, Topps wasn’t even trying anymore. Just awful, awful sets of cards. I should know because I still have a complete unopened set of 1989 Topps that I received on Christmas of that year which has actually decreased in value since then. When he dropped it off that night even Santa was like “Pfftt. This set has nobody, and these cards are too bland to even generate camp value when you’re in your 30s!” And I was like, “I know dude. Just put it under the tree.”

So I was as delighted as anyone when Upper Deck came along and blew everyone out of the water. It was like going to HD. But it wasn’t until I was recently flipping through some old cards that it really dawned on me just how far ahead of the game Upper Deck was, and how little Topps cared. I would like to illustrate this point using two cards that feature an Oakland A’s pitcher. (I realize these cards are two years apart, however Topps ’89 set was probably the nicest from that era of indifference, and Upper Deck came out in ’89 with this, and Topps responded with this.)


Todd Burns, 1989 Topps

Look at ol’ Burnsie over there. Mullet blowing in the breeze. Doesn’t have a care in the world. I think Topps banged out its entire 1989 set after two days at spring training asking guys like Todd Burns to pretend like they were playing baseball for three seconds. Also, according to Wikipedia:

Burns now runs the Todd Burns School of Baseball in Huntsville, Alabama.


In my head I have an image of ol’ Burnsie standing in front of a crowd of like, seven kids, and speaking to them in an extremely slow southern drawl:

Todd Burns: Alright, kids. Do you want to learn how to play baseball?

Kids: …

Todd Burns: I saaaiiiiid, do you want to learn how to play baseball?

Kids
: I guess/yeah?/*cough*

Todd Burns: Okay, then. Well, first thing you do is lift your arms over your head like this…

It should also be mentioned that the first rule of Todd Burns School of Baseball is: don’t talk about Todd Burns School of Baseball. Since I just violated that rule and now fear for my safety, I will move on.

In fact, let’s look at our next installment. I call this one: “Joe Slusarski in Three Parts.”


Joe Slusarski, 1991 Upper Deck

I’m not saying that this is the coolest card ever. Assuredly it would be much cooler if it featured someone other than Joe Slusarski. But for 1991, this was pretty awesome. I mean, ol’ Burnsie probably needed one take for his pose. Meanwhile, Upper Deck is taking their photos back to the lab. If he wanted to Joe Slusarski could analyze his mechanics with this. I mean, not really. But still. Based on these two cards, and given the choice, I would much rather attend The Joe Slusarski Camp of Awesomeness, which takes place every year during the first week of fall at alternating parks in Indianapolis.

I am also finding it quite humorous to envision what “Todd Burns in Three Parts” would look like if it involved just him bringing his glove from his waist to over his head. And now I know what I will be asking for this year for Christmas. I realize that there is something wrong with me.

Did you know?

During my college years I valiantly attempted to make the phrase “getting Slusarski’d” synonymous with getting really, really drunk, but it never seemed to catch on.
I like to hold onto stuff. Things like old magazines, books, souvenir cups (anybody need an almost complete run of 32oz McDonald's Dream Team cups from 1992?), postcards, and of course, old cardboard, er, sports cards. And I hold onto them for many reasons, not the least of which is that I perceive them to have some kind of monetary value.

I come from a long line of collectors. My great-grandfather had one of the most comprehensive collections of Tennessee postmarks. Both of my grandfathers collected stamps. My father collects WPA guides, proof sets, travel memorabilia, first editions, and group photos (yard-longs). My mother collects things with birds and cats on them, and my older sister collects anything with eyeballs as the main focus. I've been to Brimfield Flea Market more than ten times in my life, Allentown Paperama once, the Metropolitan Post Card Show once, the Boston Antiquarian book fair twice, Madison/Bouckville once, Round Lake Antique Show at least twice, and am well-versed in the ins and outs of the many antique and junk stores up and down the east coast. So I like to think I have a pretty good idea of how and why things have value.

So then can somebody explain to me why cards of unproven rookies or no-talent hacks have value? I was looking through an old Tuff Stuff from 2007 yesterday, and under the "2003 Bowman Chrome Draft Picks & Prospects" header, Brandon Wood's autographed rookie was listed for $100. Excuse me for a few moments while I head over to Brandon Wood's Baseball-Reference page... Angels' first-round pick in 2003... just hit first career grand slam... career .184 hitter... sloppy fielder (16 errors in 139 career games)... So, am I missing something? Why did his card command $100 in 2007? (And after a cursory search on eBay just now, Wood's auto rookies are all in this price ballpark.) For a career .184 hitter? Huh?

I mean, I get it. This is how the hobby works. It's evolved into a speculative business, and now, combined with limited-run cards, the stakes are higher. I remember when rookie bulk lots of guys like Mike Greenwell set collectors back $50 to $100 bucks. Seems all so innocent now, doesn't it?

But there's a twist in today's hobby marketplace, and it's this: lots of cards are produced in limited runs. In fact, I'd venture a guess that over 50% of the cards produced today are part of limited runs.

The card manufacturers can make any card part of a limited run. If Topps were really thinking outside of the pack, they'd create a set where the big stars were printed at full strength, while the utilitymen and middle relievers short-printed or part of some other sort of limited run. Then the Jeters and Howards of the world would be $1-$3 and the autographed Joe Beimels $10 - $20 (see the Post Cereal sets of the early 1960s for examples of this). It's totally arbitrary who they choose to produce in limited run.

That's nice Ben. Why are you ragging on Brandon Wood? Truthfully, my argument has nothing to do with Brandon Wood. He could prove to be a great star if given a chance. But as it stands now, his card is perceived to be worth around $100 not so much because of who he is, or that it's autographed, but because it was created as part of a limited run. And to me, that's a weak argument for value.

You know how there are players who, for whatever reason, don't get cards? And how other players get more than one card in the same set? Inexplicably, Oliver Perez fits into neither of these categories, though a strong case could be made for both.

Why Oliver Perez Deserves More Than One Card: Okay, really the only way Perez would ever get two cards in one set is if Topps made a subset called Underwhelming and Overpaid. The Perez, Gil Meche, Hiroki Kuroda, and Gary Matthews, Jr., fan clubs would squeal with delight over a special card, that would also come in a special premium parallel made of curved, mealy cardboard.

Why Oliver Perez Deserves Zero Cards: He makes $4,938.27 for every strike he throws this season. Oh wait, he's on the DL and can't throw strikes anyway.

WEAK PULL!!!
Hi everyone. I’m Mike. Happy to be here. I’d like to talk to you, if I may, about Gregg Jefferies.


Gregg Jefferies, 1991 Score

Gregg Jefferies –- the extra “g” is for gregarious –- holds a special place in my baseball card-loving heart. You see, I grew up in central New Jersey, and the arrival of Jefferies coincided with the apex of my card-trading days, which meant that I took full advantage of the unbridled enthusiasm and unrealistic expectations of the Mets fans in the local neighborhood. Not that I myself wasn’t interested in obtaining the cards of a can’t-miss prospect, but as a Yankee fan I was content with my expanding card-collection of one future-Hall-of-Famer named Kevin Maas.

Speaking of enthusiasm, we all know that Gregg Jefferies was a talented player, but what I really want to know is: Was he enthusiastic? Let’s check the back of this card and find out:



“Everything he does, he does with great enthusiasm,” said Giants’ GM Al Rosen.

Awesome! I love enthusiasm! But, wait…everything? Not that I would ever in a million years doubt the input of Giants’ GM Al Rosen, but could it really be that Gregg Jefferies displayed noticeable enthusiasm for all of his endeavors? Spring training bunting drills? Furniture shopping? Putting his mail on hold at the post office because he needed to make an impromptu trip back to California because his great aunt fell down a flight of stairs? Hmmm. It’s also interesting to me that San Francisco Giants general manager Al Rosen has seemingly obtained exclusive knowledge regarding the enthusiastic nature of Mets’ third baseman Gregg Jefferies, but whatever. The point is that Gregg Jefferies is one enthusiastic mo fo. Also, not to change the subject but do you guys smell something? Al?

“You can almost smell the love of the game reeking all over him.”

Almost? It’s been twenty years since the release of this card and the smell that emanates from Gregg Jefferies’ love of the game still wafts over certain parts of the metropolitan area, most notably Staten Island and South River, NJ. Unfortunately, Gregg Jefferies’ love of the game smells like scrambled eggs and exhaust fumes.

Anyway, one thing you all will soon discover about me is that, when I am nostalgically searching for information on a baseball player of my youth, I have two and only two sources for reliable information: 1) Al Rosen. And 2) Wikipedia.

In response to criticism from teammates, on May 24, 1991, Jefferies pleaded his case in an open letter read on WFAN, New York's sports radio station. In the letter, Jefferies wrote: "When a pitcher is having trouble getting players out, when a hitter is having trouble hitting, or when a player makes an error, I try to support them in whatever way I can. I don't run to the media to belittle them or to draw more attention to their difficult times…”

I honestly don’t remember this, and Wikipedia surprisingly makes no mention of why Gregg Jefferies was forced to plead his case. We can only assume, via context, that Gregg Jefferies had been criticized by numerous teammates for his extreme enthusiasm -- "Slow down, honky," was the mantra of both Dwight Gooden and Kevin Elster -- and also because he smelled. Nevertheless, I do thoroughly enjoy how he maintains that he does not run to the media in an open letter to the media. One other thing:

Also in 2000, Lisa Kesner who was a flight attendant at Olympia Aviation, which provided flights to both the Detroit Tigers and the Detroit Red Wings, alleged that many players were sexually harassing her, and it was also alleged that Doug Brocail and Jeffries, who were with the Tigers at the time, asked her if she could perform sexual acts with her husband, "in a van".[citation needed]

For his career, Jefferies had a career .289 batting average with 126 home runs, 663 RBIs and 196 stolen bases.


Nice transition there from alleged sex requests “in a van” to career stats. I call that a transwikition. And I obviously have no idea if something like this ever happened or not –- Wikipedia has failed me before and Al Rosen could not be reached for comment. All I’m saying is: Kevin Maas would never do that.

Did you know?
In 2002 Gregg Jefferies was forced to go on "Larry King Live" in order to reiterate his anti-media stance and also to inform people about what to do when this van's a' rockin'.


Dear Gentle Reader,

Please put your hands together for Mike Kenny, who is joining the unpaid staff here at The Baseball Card Blog (ie, me) as a contributing writer. If you're unfamiliar with Mike's baseball-card-related writing, don't worry. Check his own blog out here: So...do you like stuff?

Not to build him up too much, but Mike's ability to mix non sequitur observation, bombastic shit he's made up, and actual anecdotes allows him to accurately pinpoint where a card goes from normal to ridiculous time and time again. It makes for a fantastic read.

Please welcome him aboard.
I'm helping this guy out by re-posting his Craigslist ad on the blog. If you live in the San Luis Obispo/Paso Robles, California, areas – or even if you don't, as he'll probably ship them to you – take a look at this guy's hoard.

I'm not going to pass judgment on its contents other than to say that from the pictures he posted the cards look to be mostly from the mid-1990s.

Stupidly Massive Pile of Baseball Cards - $300

[I am in no way affiliated with the seller.]


Too much of the hobby is centered on the "great pull": Autographed jersey cards, cards dipped in gold, and other "case hit" cards that get the random collector in the pages of Beckett Sports Monthly. I'm kind of sick of reading about all the lucky readers who were "smart" enough to plunk down another bazillion dollars for a high-risk box of Upper Deck Blood Diamond... seriously, why didn't Upper Deck come up with a product with that name? I can see it: Parallel versions in silver, gold, saran wrap, and super-ultra-rare cards bedazzled in red diamonds.

Thus, the inaugural edition of Weak Pull!!!, where I highlight the crappiest card of a given pack. Today, I was lucky enough to pull this card of David DeJesus from a pack of Topps T206, which only cost $4.

Ugh!
I've had a breakthrough in the Casey at the Bat poster quandry: All 95 card images can fit on a 24" x 36" sheet when sized to 75% of normal size. Done and done! This will cut costs in half, and decrease the cost of the poster as well. Real question is: Why didn't I think of this earlier?

Also: Thinking of a new recurring post idea, coming soon...

Finally: I'll be going through a Life Event in a few weeks (as it's known in the health insurance industry), so posts will be probably be even less frequent than they are now.