The Small Insect Slayer

Bo Jackson, 1994 Topps

Ya’ know what I’m sick and tired of? Bees. You know who agrees with me? Bo freakin’ Jackson.

I honestly cannot recall a situation where a bee showed up and made things better. What’s their deal, anyway? The main reason I don’t like bees is because—and I don’t want to get too much into science here—they can sting you. And they will! For no reason. Sometimes I will discover a bee in my car and my natural instinct is to react as if I am on fire and my main priority becomes getting the bee out of the car rather than paying attention to what else is happening on the road. I am more fearful of getting pinched with a miniscule stinger than getting into a multi-car accident.

Is my reaction to bees embarrassing? No. Ya’ know why? Because Bo Jackson reacts the same way:



On 9-26-93,

Write that date down. It will be important should anyone ever ask if you remember the exact day that Bo Jackson got attacked by a bee.

Bo was chased from the batter’s box to the dugout by a bee.

Bo Jackson played 12 professional sports and could bench-press a tank while eating a sandwich made of glass. Yet even he was not immune to the clear and present danger of bees. I mean really, a grown man trying to do his job getting harassed by a stupid little bee … IS THERE NO END TO THEIR WRATH?! If only someone had the guts and wherewithal to show those bees—or at least a bee—that we’re not gonna stand for this abuse!

He stepped back in and stung a pitch for a home run.

Ha! Score one for the good guys (humans)! Nothing shuts a bee up quicker than a home run. That stupid bee thought he could distract Bo Jackson? Pfft. After getting chased back to the dugout like a ninny and not coming back until he was certain the bee was gone, Bo Jackson was like, “Alright, enough. Let’s play some baseball.” Also, not sure if you caught this, but he didn’t just hit the pitch—he stung it. See, Bo turned things around and did what the bee could have done to him to a baseball, in a figuratively descriptive sense, because you can’t really sting a ball with a wooden bat. But still!

It’s never been confirmed, but I like to believe that the pitcher that day, Kenny Rogers, set aside the politics of baseball for a moment, recognized the statement that needed to be made to bees all over the world, and just grooved one right in there. That, or he was just pitching like Kenny Rogers.

Also, needless to say, this assault on bees obviously excludes the loyal bumblebees who work in baseball. There are some good ones out there.

Buff, Meet Bubba; Bubba, Buff

Tom Niedenfuer, 1989 Topps

Check out Tom Niedenfuer, the proudest District Manager of Produce at Orioles fantasy camp.

Ha, ha … (tear). I kid Tom Niedenfuer because he’s a good sport. I think. I’ve never actually talked to him, but I feel like I have, and that feeling says, “Go nuts making light of my professional baseball career—I married an actress who appeared in Playboy, so what do I care?” Okay, Tom, will do!

So by now we all know that Tom Niedenfuer famously married Judy Landers of, among other things, The Love Boat, and less-famously gave up two of the biggest post season bombs in recent baseball history—Ozzie Smith and Jack Clark’s respective 1985 NLCS ding-dongs. But what other interesting tidbits can Topps provide with regards to Tom Niedenfuer, playa extraordinaire?



Born in Minnesota, Tom’s family moved to Pennsylvania when he was age 3. He resided in Scranton and West Chester, then moved to Washington State in 3rd grade.

What happened? Honestly? I feel asleep. Where am I? Tom Niedenfuer? Hold on, I’m sorry—let me read that again.

Born in Minnesota, Tom’s family moved to Pennsylvania when he was age 3. He resided in Scranton and West Chester, then moved to Washington State in 3rd grade.

Wowwwwww! Minnesota, Pennsylvania , AND Washington??!! That’s three states! All before third grade??!! Tom Niedenfuer is da man! I wonder if he had an awesome nickname?!

Nicknamed Buff

For his great physique, as displayed above?

(short for Buffalo “because he had a big head,” Tom Lasorda said.)

That seems like a roundabout way of saying that someone has a big head. Why not just call him “Big Head?” I mean, I realize that buffalo have big heads as compared to humans, but are they like, the big-headed animal of note? I’m a little confused. That also makes consecutive posts referencing large, furry mammals traditionally hunted for sport. If anyone knows of a baseball player nicknamed “Elk,” please send me a card asap so we can keep this thing moving.

Quick aside: I often wish I were a professional baseball player, so that my peers in the clubhouse could endearingly josh me about some perceived physical flaw. Like, I have a cleft lip, so I wonder … would they call me “Clefty?” “Cleft Claven?” “Cleftopatomas?” I guess I’ll never know.

What else?

Daughter, Kristy, was featured on the show “My Super Sweet 16” in 2007.

Interesting to note that she goes by Kristi Flanders as opposed to Kristi Niedenfuer. I’m sure it’s because she doesn’t want any favoritism as she embarks on a professional baseball career. Anyway, that was the episode that featured the girls dancing provocatively with rapper Bubba Sparxxx during the circus-themed party at the Ringling Mansion (?)! That’s the parenting equivalent of giving of giving up two huge postseason home runs in two days! Except worse! Hooray Buff!

The Moose Whisperer (Psst -- You're Dead, Moose)

Moose Haas, 1981 Fleer

This card predates the prime of my baseball card-collecting years, and I honestly do not know where it came from or why I have it. It’s likely I traded for it, enticed by the allure of owning a small card featuring a man named “Moose.” One of my dad’s good friends is nicknamed Goose, so I may have been under the impression that Moose Haas was also one of my dad’s friends. He is not. Although he should be. I feel like they would get along.

Here’s the thing though—if you’re going to make a baseball card of a guy named Moose, who has a mustache and doesn’t wear a hat and plays baseball in Milwaukee, I’m going to need more of an explanation than simple baseball statistics. Luckily, there are other sources of information:

“Moose” earned his nickname after an unfortunate weekend run-in with a full-grown moose while on vacation in the Appalachian mountains.

I suspect this “run-in” was unfortunate for the moose only. Also, no kidding—you ran into a moose in the Appalachian mountains? Who would have figured?! A full-grown moose, too! Not one of those baby moose(s?) that you see all the time. Crazy. What five-star hotel were you staying at in the Appalachian mountains, Moose, that this moose so callously invaded?

Quick aside: please no more discussion about how nicknames aren’t like they used to be. Sure, A-Rod and CarGo aren’t entirely original, but neither is:

"Heh, heh. You killed a moose. We’re gonna call you … Moose."

The confrontation

What weapon was the moose using during this confrontation? A sword? Can you tell I’m a vegetarian?

resulted in the 12-foot-tall (3.7 m) moose

I swear he was 12-feet tall if he was a foot! -- George Costanza

felled at the hands of Mr. Haas.

I don’t like to throw the word hero around very often, so I won’t, but Moose Haas is a better person and American than Davey Crockett. And Daniel Boone. And Dan Boone.

If I may, allow me to reword this legendary baseball tale in layman’s terms. Ahem …

One time Bryan Haas, a professional baseball player, went moose-hunting and he shot a moose. After that, everyone called him Moose. The end. (applause)

The head of the moose (who Mr. Haas later named “Wallace”) was hung in his dining room as a memento of that infamous meeting and remains on display to this day.

Cute. I like when people name the things they kill. Am I crazy or this the plot to every Disney movie? Also, a giant moose head is a good conversation-starter, and goes well with any Pottery Barn-inspired décor. What else?

On Moose’s 1987 Topps Baseball Card,

That Wikipedia is going to the back of baseball cards for its information makes me worried.

Moose is also a locksmith, a magician, and a black belt in taekwondo.

I mean, obviously. Does anybody here know a moose-hunter that can’t pick a lock or karate-chop through wood? Didn’t think so. But the way that sentence is worded makes it sound as though Moose is actually pictured doing all three things on the back of that card. I am certain that is not the case, but if I’m wrong, somebody please send me that card immediately.

Also—and I am being completely serious—my dad is black belt in taekwondo. I told you those two would get along!

A Rush of Gold to the Beard

Jeff Reardon, 1994 Score "Gold Rush" series

Last year we got drawn-in by a series on TV called “America: The Story of Us.” One part involved the California gold rush of the mid-1800s. Men left their families behind in hopes of striking it rich, crossing dangerous terrain and encountering wild beasts and risking death all the way, an end that many realized. Some survived but abandoned their families anyway. Few actually struck it rich. It was a seminal event in American history, and a testament to this nation’s courage and fortitude, and to its perpetual fantasy of greener pastures.

As I sat there watching, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Ya’ know, a company should pay homage to this event in our nation’s history, not through any exploration of the event itself, but by using it to sell small pictures of baseball players, thereby which the company can exploit the desired wealth of a new generation of growing men, as did the very historical event it now markets.” Those were literally the exact words that ran through my head. I cannot believe I remembered them all.

Anyway, silly me didn’t even realize that this already happened! And I was a sucker active participant!

Yes, Score was the first to capitalize on the marketability of a strange event that took place over a hundred years prior by introducing the Gold Rush series. Every child worth his salt would rush to the nearest store, flea market, or card show—encountering wild beasts—and dig deep into his pockets so as to become rich, albeit at a later date, as a result of purchasing these gold-plated cards, which weren’t so much gold-plated as they were made to look gold-plated.

Unfortunately, as you can deduce from this scintillating question-and-answer session, this series, like the gold rush itself, did not reap the desired rewards. Oh well! No biggie. Let’s look at it anyway.



For the first time in his 15-year major league career, Jeff trudged to the mound minus his trademark beard in 1993.

In assuming that every man who trekked to California in search of gold did, in fact, have a beard, I find it somewhat ironic that the famously bearded Jeff Reardon shaved his off just prior to being featured in the Gold Rush series. I suspect Score was disappointed, and this may have been an important factor in dooming the card series overall.

Anyhoo, this has been my valiant attempt to avoid the awkward topic and sad story of Reardon himself, which can be read here. Hope he’s doing okay, and that he found greener pastures.

But hey, doesn’t it seem like he’s throwing a snowball on this card and not a baseball? Ha, ha, lol, lmao, and what not.