1993 Upper Deck Team Stars Checklist

There’s something about the back-to-the-camera-during-the-National-Anthem sports photograph that I love so dearly. The facelessness of it. The patriotism. It makes me feel all tingly inside. Is that wrong? Then I don’t want to be right.

A few things stand out about this particular shot. First, that is one helluva middle of the order. I mean, it’s one thing to see these guys trot to the batter’s box one after the other, but seeing them together, physically -– not just in a lineup card -– is quite impactful. It’s no surprise the Giants won 103 games in ’93 (missing the playoffs). Second, all of these guys are going bald, or are already bald. This is apropos of nothing, but it reminds me of the first time I saw Will Clark take off his helmet as a kid and, for whatever reason, I began to like him a little bit less. I don’t know why. I wish he had just shaved his head like the other two. Whatever. Third, the fact that two of the men here are noted performance enhancing drug users definitely takes away from the romanticism of this card. It’s ’93 and Bonds is looking kinda big already. I’m just saying. Why couldn’t the two of them just do it naturally, and be injured all the time and bald gracefully like Will Clark?

Anyhoo, this card is a checklist.



When I originally turned this over I assumed this Team Stars checklist was a checklist for the regular ’93 Upper Deck set. But it turns out, it seems, that Team Stars is its own special series with its own checklist, as evidenced by the fact that this card is # 471, but the Team Stars card entitled “Giant Sticks” is # 476. I can’t imagine that there is different card entitled “Giant Sticks” that is not this one, which simply features a few players who carry giant sticks but do not play for the Giants because, Upper Deck figured, “Why does everything have to be a play on words?” But if that were the case, and all of our preconceptions were thrown out the window, we could then speculate that the title of this card is “The Royal Tenen-bombs.”*

I would also like to take this time to commend whoever came up with the name “Giant Sticks.” Bravo. That none of these three men are actually holding bats in this picture, and that we cannot see their torsos makes the mind race with only baseball-related wonder.

In perusing this checklist, it’s fairly simple to deduce which players these card titles may feature, although I could probably do without “Boyhood Friends,” which is too Hallmarky and weird for my tastes. (Yes, I have a distinct palate for checklist cards.) I am particularly fond however, of the Team Stars card entitled “Les Grandes Etoiles,” which is French for “The Great Mariners” and which features, I imagine, a picture of Wade Boggs and Roberto Alomar fishing.

*I am aware that movie had yet to be released in 1993. Just humor me.

John Salley's story about Rick Mahorn finding out he was drafted by the Minnesota Timberwolves (Deadspin)
For those of you who are not familiar with Joe Kleine, he was a durable NBA backup center from 1985 to 2000. For those of you who are familiar with Kleine, you'll remember him by his big play during... uh... well, by his, uh, being involved in three important trades:

- The Trade that Signaled the End of the Championship Celtic Years (Danny Ainge to the Kings)
- The Trade that Brought Robert Horry to the Lakers
- The Trade that Brought Jermaine O'Neal to the Pacers

Notice how Kleine's big achievements were things that he ultimately had no control over, and that all of them came away from the basketball court. This is important, because while he managed to be a relatively durable big man in the bruising, brutal NBA, he wasn't especially good. According to Basketball-Reference.com, Kleine put up a total of 38 double doubles in his career, the last one coming in 1992. (Kleine played until 2000.)

So with all this in mind, let's take a look at his 1990-91 Skybox card. For a set that thrived on the outrageous-for-the-time style of computer-generated backgrounds that at once accentuated the grace and electricity of the game action, as well as looked forward and embraced a more digital age, you could say that the Skybox editors were nothing if not realistic. Yes, Kleine's card is a feat of technology. And yes, Kleine does seem excited. But he's still on the bench in his big photo, in his warm-up jacket. And the photo on the back? The one where on other guys' cards shows them relaxing in their natural elements? Kleine not only shares the photo with future Hall of Famer Robert Parish, but Robert's in the game and Joe's on the bench.
Every now and again I like to slip on my smoking jacket, my fuzzy slippers, and my oil-free archival gloves, pad into my study, take down my oversized oil painting of forgotten uncle Griggs Wigwam Henry, spin open the combination lock on my in-no-way-over-the-top super-secret safe, and go through my collection of cardboard rarities. I'm surprised I've even shared this much with you. Oh well. Behold! Here are a few of my most prized treasures...

Stojko Vrankovic, 1991-92 NBA Hoops
Stojko was a terrible player, even by 12th-man standards. Thus, there are three highlights to this card:
1. Larry Bird is featured.
2. The basketball and the light next to it have a weird yin and yang thing going on.
3. Larry Bird is featured.

Adolphus W. Greely, 1911 Hassan World's Greatest Explorers
There's something wonderful about collecting cards of restless men.

Chef Girl-ar-dee Feminist Spaghetti, 1974 Topps Wacky Packages
Oh Topps, you old chauvinistic, pun-errific coot!

Larry Johnson, 1991-92 Skybox
I loved Skybox basketball cards and their defiant use of Photoshop. 
For about five years there the ball glowed. Also of note: Larry Johnson's shirt is
absolutely horrendous. 

Ralph Simpson, 1971-72 Topps
I also love the 1972-73 Topps set – the color backgrounds,
the crazy ABA ball, the horrible jerseys...
Not to mention
whatever printing errors they happened to let out. 

George Low (Golfer), 1911 Hassan/Mecca Champions of Sport (T218)
If you're in the market for pre-war non-baseball cards, I would recommend this set.
The cards are super-cheap and have a nice collection of aviators, bowlers, olympians, and others.  

Harold Miner Draft Pick, 1992-93 Skybox
Ah, Baby Jordan. We meet again. 
And remind me... why did we call you "Baby Jordan"?
Did it have something to do with your haircut? 


John Morningstar (Billiards), 1911 Hassan/Mecca Champions of Sport (T218)
Another thing to highlight about this set is the artwork. The color detail is especially rich, considering the source materials were most likely black and white photographs.

 
Gary Payton Authentic Arenas: Boston Garden, 2001-02(?) Topps Heritage Basketball
There are two funny things about this card: 
1. Why isn't the seat from Key Arena? Topps should've used a photo of Payton on the Celtics.
2. I don't remember the seats in the old Garden being repainted from red to green. I remember the seats being a hard yellow plastic.
Don Bradman, 1930 Player's Cigarettes Cricket
Q: How do you spell "Babe Ruth" in Australian?
A: "D-O-N  B-R-A-D-M-A-N"

William Shakespeare (unscratched), 1967 Topps Who Am I?
This series of unscratched cards is one of my absolute favorite non-sport sets.
It's the buckteeth and late-Sixties cartoon styles, mostly. 


Joe Gans, 1911 Hassan/Mecca Champions of Sport (T218)
What is so interesting about this card of Gans, one of the greatest boxers of all time, is that it was created and released posthumously (like many others from the set). 

Bobby Bonilla & Barry Larkin, 1991 Fleer, NLCS Team Leaders

Look at these two guys here. They have nothing in common! One guy is tall and the other guy is not as tall. One guy plays for the Pirates and the other guy plays for the Reds. One guy has a mustache and the other guy only kinda has a mustache. One guy plays by the rules and the other guy is unorthodox and goes only by his gut instincts, I imagine. What common denominator could possibly bring two men together who are otherwise worlds apart with regards to their careers, backgrounds, general worldviews and favorite musical artists?



Bobby Bonilla and Barry Larkin don’t have the same physical stature or play the same position,

You’re telling me! I mean, how could two men who aren’t the exact same size and don’t play the exact same position within the sport that they both play professionally possibly relate to one another? How?!

But the two did share one thing in the 1990 National League Championship Series:

Popcorn? Groupies? Playing in the 1990 National League Championship Series?

Leadership.

Huh. Leadership. Come to think of it, they do both resemble leaders of their respective clubs, what with their arrogant smiles and “come follow me” demeanors. I would go to war with either of these great men! Or whichever one was on the winning side! Let us discover the manner in which both men lead:

Bonilla, the Pittsburgh Pirates slugger, put together a marvelous 1990 campaign as Pittsburgh captured the NL East title.


Bobby Bonilla: Leading by marvelousness.

Bobby finished second in the NL with 120 RBIs and delivered a career-high 32 homers (sixth in NL). Bonilla placed second in the NL in runs and total bases (324) and finished 10th in slugging percentage and hits.

Bobby Bonilla: Leading by finishing second and sixth and tenth in various statistical categories.

Bobby, a switch-hitter who was signed by the Pirates at a baseball clinic in Europe in 1981, was moved to the outfield after playing third base in his previous four years with the Pirates.

Bobby Bonilla: Leading by being a switch-hitter in Europe in 1981. Bonilla would actually go on to display his leadership in future NCLS contests by reportedly playing cards with Rickey Henderson in the clubhouse while his team, the Mets, were outside attempting to reach the World Series in 1999. So there is that.

Larkin once again proved to be the Major League’s best offensive shortstop in 1990 as Cincinnati led the NL West Division from start to finish.

Barry Larkin in clubhouse after first game of 1990 season: We’re in first place and I intend to stay there! Are you with me?!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, Yeah!

Larkin: I will prove to be the best offensive shortstop again in 1990! Who’s better than me at playing shortstop offensively?!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, No one!

Larkin: They can’t handle the truth!

Clubhouse: erupts in chorus, Yeah!

Larkin: They can take our lives, but they’ll never take…our FREEDOM!

Clubhouse: destroyed in ensuing mayhem

Larkin had a sensational first half in the 1989 season, but an injury during the All-Star Game Skills Competition sidelined him for most of the rest of the season.

Barry Larkin: Leading by entering the 1989 All-Star Game Skills Competition and injuring himself while trying to throw a baseball through a giant clown’s mouth.

This account of the various leadership qualities of two men, and the specific events and situations in which these two men –- otherwise so different -– exercised their innate ability to lead, has been, for me, truly inspiring. Churchill & Truman? Pffttt. As the great Bobby Bonilla once said:

Looked who just walked in, {beep}. Hey, Bobby, why don’t you {bleep} my {bleep}? But don’t take it personally….That’s right, you heard me, {beep}. But, hey, don’t take it personally.

Somebody needs to put that on a poster. A poster entitled “Leadership.”
Every now and again I like to slip on my smoking jacket, my fuzzy slippers, and my oil-free archival gloves, pad into my study, take down my oversized oil painting of forgotten uncle Griggs Wigwam Henry, spin open the combination lock on my in-no-way-over-the-top super-secret safe, and go through my collection of cardboard rarities. I'm surprised I've even shared this much with you. Oh well. Behold! Here are a few of my most prized treasures...

Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd, 1987 Fleer Baseball All Stars #4 of 44
This card is pretty much the high point of his career. That, and pitching in a World Series. Well, I guess they both pale in comparison to having a nickname refer to how much you enjoy beer.

Cronin/Bishop/Cissell/Reynolds, 1935 Goudey 4-in-1 #6E
What? No airbrush to make Max Bishop a Red Sock? 



Tom Seaver, 1986 Topps Traded #101
Judging from this card, I'm not sure Tom Seaver is a real person.


Fritz Ostermueller, 1935 Diamond Stars #73
You have to love the baggy sleeve.
 
Carl Yastrzemski, 1967 Topps #355
I've never been a big fan of paper-loss, but this rip somehow adds to the aesthetic. 

Fred Lynn, 1976 Topps #50
You think the pen went to town on the front? You should see the back.
 
Pumpsie Green, 1960 Topps #317
Pumpsie looks like he just heard Tom Yawkey's pre-Reconstruction 
sensibility towards racial equality.

1972 Rookie Stars Red Sox, 1972 Topps #79
I never understood why the Red Sox ditched Cecil Cooper. 

 Dec. 1954, Fisherman Ted Hooks a Big One, 1959 Fleer #54
Wait a second, he caught it with that rod?
 
Dr. K & Super K, 1987 Fleer #640
This has always been one of my favorite cards, though I don't care for either player.
Every now and again I like to slip on my smoking jacket, my fuzzy slippers, and my oil-free archival gloves, pad into my study, take down my oversized oil painting of forgotten uncle Griggs Wigwam Henry, spin open the combination lock on my in-no-way-over-the-top super-secret safe, and go through my collection of cardboard rarities. I'm surprised I've even shared this much with you. Oh well. Behold! Here are a few of my most prized treasures...

Johnny Podres, 1969 Topps #659
It is perhaps the most meta card from the 1960s: Johnny Podres on the Padres.

Hank Arft, 1949 Bowman #139
Lo, to be born without an easily tease-able name!

 
Dick Selma, 1967 Topps #386
This is one of the most impressive printing registration screw-ups I've ever seen.
Van Lingle Mungo, 1934 Diamond Stars #19
It appears someone bit off more Mungo than they could chew. 
Autographed Anthony Young, 1992 Topps #148
Bravely, the '16' in his signature 
referred to his uniform number, not his record (1-16, 1992).

Dodgers' Sluggers, 1957 Topps #400
In all seriousness, this is one of my favorite cards ever made.

Pete Rose, 1985 Donruss #254
I've always thought Pete looked kinda pensive in this photo, 
like he were a child seeking approval. I may be on the Expos, but I still got it, right?

Roy Sievers, 1956 Topps #75
Roy may have been a graceful outfielder, but here he looks like a drunk guy in a 1980s sex comedy, trying to catch the football without falling in the pool. 

 Joe Morgan TRADED, 1972 Topps #752
Why is this card a highlight? Three reasons: the guy in the background; Joe's muttonchop sideburns; and the fact that Joe Morgan signed it with a ballpoint pen.

Rod Carew, 1968 Topps #80
Far out! I got a Rod Carew in my pack!
Be a pal and hand me that pencil, would you? 



I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: damn, Ben, where'd you get the cheddar for all these fine sports cards? And how can I emulate your devil-may-care attitude?

Well, my friend, you're in luck. As little as 15 years ago, without reliable access to card shows and a slobbering, rag-tag band of sweaty-armpitted, mouth-breathing sports-card shop owners to take your hard-earned cash, you were poop out of luck of ever amassing even a fraction of the collection I've laid before you here today. But thanks to the cornucopia of benevolence found on the Internet, untold treasures are only a click away!

Want to be knee-deep in the fool's gold of 1991 Fleer baseball? Poof! You're wading through stack upon stack of that horrid set. You want to spend your next paycheck on an unopened case of 1985 Donruss? Poof! It's yours... And when life gives you 49 Frank Tanana Diamond Kings, you'll be happy to make Diamond King Tanana-ade...
Any time a web site changes layout, there are reasons for doing so. In the case of The Baseball Card Blog, I changed the layout because the four-column design wasn't working for me. I felt there wasn't a clear hierarchy, and that new blog entries weren't getting enough attention. I also missed the original header image from 2006 - 2008, so that banner makes its triumphant return.

We're using BTemplatr, and this template uses pages as well as posts. Pages will be used for special things. For instance, the "Casey at the Bat" poster and original web project now live on a special page. Pages are accessible from the top horizontal navigation bar. You can get back to the home page by clicking "Home."

The goal of all this is to simplify things. Less jumble means more readers will give more attention to new posts.

Enjoy!

Today, August 14th, is Ernest Thayer's birthday, he of Casey at the Bat fame. He turns 147 today, which, if he returned from the dead, would make him incredibly old. Here's how to celebrate in a way Thayer would appreciate:

Step 1. Write a great poem about our national pastime or something else rife with folly.
Step 2. Submit it to a newspaper.
Step 3. When it becomes famous, deny you wrote it then distance yourself from the fame of its greatness.
Step 4. Move back to Worcester.


Or you could just read Thayer's great poem, Casey at the Bat, preferably aloud and with a thick regional accent of your choice, as befits the rivalry of towns that claim to be Mudville.

Pat Tabler, 1991 Score

Let’s just get right into this:



No matter what Pat does in the rest of his baseball career, he will always be remembered as the guy who always gets a hit with the bases loaded.

That is a bit presumptuous, no? This may sound somewhat outlandish, but let us say, for example, that one day while playing in a professional baseball game, Pat Tabler decides, out of nowhere, to pull down his pants and poop on second base. I may be wrong, but I would imagine that this occurrence would override his penchant for hitting well with the bases loaded in terms of his legacy. I would say things like, “Hey, remember when Pat Tabler pooped on second base?” and then the other person, my bestest friend, would say, “Heck yeah. That was ridonk.” And then I’d be like, “Didn’t he always get a hit with the bases loaded?” And my friend would be like, “What?”

Again, that is an extreme example. I just use it to illustrate the point that I greatly despise when people close the door on Pat Tabler’s potential accomplishments when his career is in midstream. Still though, I must admit it is impressive when a guy always gets a hit with the bases loaded. Always is a lot of times!

Well, not always,

What? I always take always literally! Pat Tabler is a fraud!

but more than any other player in at least the last 15 years.


That “statistic” sounds like something that John Kruk made up off of the top of his head during one his rambling episodes on Baseball Tonight. I mean, “in at least the last 15 years?” What does that mean? If it was more than 15 years, then just give me the amount of years. It’s not as if baseball started tracking statistics in 1976. Just look it up. You owe it to Pat Tabler.

Nevertheless, let’s pretend it’s 2010, and Pat Tabler never did poop on second base. Let us discover whether or not Score was prophetic. Wikipedia?

He gained attention for his amazing success in bases-loaded situations: 43 for 88 (.489) with 108 RBI.

Okay. But “gaining attention for” is not necessarily a legacy.

In his career, Tabler was known as a remarkably clutch hitter and for his uncanny ability to hit with the bases loaded, batting just under .500 in such situations (43 for 88).

Alrighty then. Those statements are four sentences apart, by the way, so I will take Wikipedia’s redundancy as proof of Pat Tabler’s legacy. Still, there must be something else that serves to define Pat Tabler as a person.

He has mentioned on a few occasions that he is a fan of band Jethro Tull.


I love how Wikipedia refrains from openly stating that Pat Tabler is fan of Jethro Tull, but instead cites undocumented occurrences where Pat Tabler mentioned as much. Allow us to document these occurrences:

Pat Tabler, at 1982 batting practice at Wrigley Field: I am a fan of band Jethro Tull.

Pat Tabler, at 1987 Jethro Tull concert: I am a fan of band onstage.

Pat Tabler, at home in 1990
: Check out my Jethro Tull stuff. I am a fan of band, that is them.

One more Pat Tabler-related item, then I’ll stop. Promise.

It was rumored that a residential quad was named after him on the Stony Brook University Campus, however, the quad was built and named in the late 1960’s, long before his MLB career began.

This rumor gained steam when Jethro Tull randomly decided to play a free concert at Tabler Quad in 1988. May I also applaud the student body at Stony Brook University, for recognizing the ironic iconic greatness of one Pat Tabler. Mathematician Vladimir Tabler may have founded Stony Brook University in 1958*, but Pat Tabler had 34 doubles in 1987. I think we all know whose quad that really is.

*may not be accurate
That's right. It's finally here, the poster everyone's been waiting for: "Casey at the Bat" done in baseball cards.



If you are interested in purchasing one, I have a limited number available and I'll be signing the first fifty!

The poster dimensions are 24" x 36".

They're $20 plus $6.50 shipping.

Sam Horn, 1993 Pinnacle

Sam Horn was a popular player during his days in Boston, and has gained somewhat of a cult following these days as a Red Sox post-game show analyst. Horn’s home run catch-phrase is “ka-pow,” so I am unsure if his loyal following is sincere or ironic. Nevertheless, once upon a time Sam Horn played for the Baltimore Orioles. We know now that Sam Horn’s job is to analyze baseball games. But what was his job then?



Sam’s job on the Orioles isn’t to dance around first base, and make acrobatic grabs or to take an extra base on a slap hit to left.

WANTED: Baseball player with sass. Must dance around first base, make acrobatic grabs, and take an extra base on a slap hit to left. At least 4-years experience required. Also must be proficient in Microsoft Word. Sam Horn need not apply.

Okay, so we know what Sam Horn’s job wasn’t. I do wonder however: If Sam Horn were to do any of these things –- say for example, if he, by chance, managed to, in some hypothetical scenario, take an extra base on a slap hit to left –- would the Orioles’ brass consider that a bonus, or would he be reprimanded? It seems like, from the tone of this, that he would be reprimanded. Still, I do not know what Sam Horn’s job is.

Sam’s job is to hit the ball hard and far.

Alrighty then. Easy enough, right? No need to make excuses when you, apparently, have one job and one job only.

Unfortunately, strikeouts happen when you’re a longball hitter.

It seems as though Pinnacle employed Sam Horn to write his own tidbit in the third person. And Sam Horn sounds defensive. Not defensive in the sense of making acrobatic defensive grabs, as we know for sure that he does not do that, nor is he responsible for doing that. It’s just…this reads like something Sam Horn would have said while sitting at his locker, angry and dejected, after -– oh, I don’t know –- striking out six times in one game: “Listen, my job on the Orioles isn’t to dance around first base and make acrobatic grabs or take an extra base on a slap hit to left. My job is to hit the ball hard and far. Unfortunately, strikeouts happen when you’re a longball hitter. Bitch.”

Coincidentally, Sam Horn once struck out six times in one game, which apparently spawned a term. Wikipedia?

Horn is perhaps best remembered as the origin of the term horn, referring to the act of striking out six times in a single game, a feat Horn accomplished in 1992 while with the Baltimore Orioles.


I have honestly never heard of this before in my life. I’m not even sure how to apply it. For example, according to my research (!), Geoff Jenkins struck out six times in a game back in 2004. Had I watched that game at the time, and witnessed this feat, I would have screamed, “He horned it!” But did he do the horning, or did he get horned? I think the batter receives a proverbial horn, but I am unsure. Anyway, this is a fun game! Who else is horny?

Did you know?
When Sam Horn was asked the reason for his retirement from Major League Baseball in 1995, he responded, simply, “Less ka-pow. More horn.”