Hard-Nosed Sheriff Zosky

Eddie Zosky, 1991 Fleer Ultra

Eddie Zosky, “Zoskmeister” to close friends only, was a MAJOR factor in a baseball trade that rocked everyone’s world.



The blockbuster trade of the last off-season involved the Blue Jays trading their star shortstop Tony Fernandez.

Fernandez and Fred McGriff were sent to the Padres in exchange for Roberto Alomar and Joe Carter. Many pundits later noted that the Padres got totally zoskied in the deal, which means bad. The Blue Jays, as we will see, indirectly got zoskied in the deal, which means good.

Although former backup Manny Lee is slated to fill the opening, the loss of manpower will leave them short off the bench.

Well what the heck? Who are the Blue Jays going to turn to should this loss of shortstop manpower leave them short off the bench? What if Manny Lee is underwhelming? THEY SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT TWICE ABOUT TRADING FERNANDEZ WHO IS GOING TO SIT ON THE BENCH NOW??!!!

This may translate into some quality big league backup time for their 22-year-old, 1989 first-round pick, Eddie Zosky.

Toronto Sun, 1991, headline title: Zosky may move up to second on shortstop depth chart; Subtitle: Blue Jays trade other shortstop and crime canine for two baseball players; Lede: Sitting patiently in the background of yesterday’s blockbuster deal was Eddie Zosky, 22, ready to pounce on the shortstop position like a cat pounces on a couch or something. Manny Lee? That’s Eddie Zosky breathing down your neck. According to Lee, Zosky’s breath smells like cat food. End of article.

In time, Eddie’s great range and sure-fire gun will create problems for Lee maintaining his hold on the shortstop position.

I’m not sure what Manny Lee’s 1991 Fleer Ultra baseball card has to say, but implied here on Eddie Zosky’s 1991 Fleer Ultra baseball card is: Manny Lee is not so great at playing baseball. He has mediocre range at best and a not-so-sure-fire gun, a recipe for shortstop disaster.

Already armed with Major League defensive skills, Eddie is improving at the plate.

Here is the part whereby which we discover that Eddie Zosky is good defensively but can’t really hit but he’s improving!, evidenced by some lukewarm statistic like batting average. Because 22-year olds who can’t really hit that much often improve on their hitting as they move through the profession and the pitching gets better.

In 1990 at Double-A Knoxville, he hit a solid .271 with seven triples and 45 RBI’s.

RBI is already plural and not possessive. Other than that, I am sold! Zosky!

He is known as a hard-nosed competitor, and that kind of attitude has been lacking in the Blue Jays clubhouse for some time.

Wow, that is a major implication of the state of the Blue Jays clubhouse, courtesy of this random Eddie Zosky baseball card. In 1990, the Blue Jays, despite the relative softness of their collective nose, finished second in the AL East. With new Sheriff Zosky in town manning the bench, they coincidentally won the World Series in ’92 and ’93. Carter and Alomar helped somewhat too, I imagine.

Mullet: Hero of Cucamonga

George Brett, 1987 Kraft Dinners

Today we continue our sporadic series of “Cards I cut out of boxed food products.”

Kraft Dinners presents …. Home Plate Heroes! So get this—on one hand, “Home Plate Heroes” works because we’re talking baseball, a sport in which one of the bases is home plate and, because the game is our National Pastime, a sport in which those who excel are considered heroes. But, on the other hand, “Home Plate Heroes” also works because Kraft Dinners can conceivably be served on a plate … at home … BY YOUR HERO, who in this case would be your mother (not pictured) for showing great bravery in serving you a boxed Kraft dinner product that contains processed cheese produced in a factory outside of Cleveland and which is 97-percent magnesium chloferate ensol byproduct, or, as translated by Kraft for the layperson, “Real, natural cheese!”

Home Plate Hero George Brett (pictured) is seen here heroically looking off into the distance while trying not to chew the tobacco in his mouth for the purposes of maintaining his hero status. As you can see, he plays for the blue team, described below the photo as the “Kansas City Royals,” whatever that means. It should henceforth be known that Kraft Dinners maintains no affiliation with Major League Baseball or its subsidiaries and is FDIC insured and the side effects of thinking otherwise include headache and diarrhea, in which case contact your physician and lawyer. Don’t be fooled by the apparent MLB symbol in the upper right-hand corner; that is only the symbol for the Major League Baseball Players Association, who apparently have their own symbol and who own the copyrights to this beauty right here so BACK OFF. Also, George Brett and/or Kraft have never represented Major League Baseball, properly exemplified by the following scenario:

Major League Baseball 1987 Gala of Heroes, Sponsored by Kraft

Guy dressed in Kraft costume that is a giant noodle dripping cheese: How ‘bout that George Brett, huh? Heckuva player …

Major League Baseball Players Association Executive Director Donald Fehr: Indeed. Heckuva guy, too. Loves cheese. A true home plate hero.

Guy dressed in Kraft costume that is a giant noodle dripping cheese: (stiffly turns to his left) How ‘bout that George Brett, huh? Heckuva player …

Major League Baseball Commissioner Peter Ueberroth: Never heard of him.

If you would like to know more about George Brett, for example, “What are some of his 1986 statistics?” and, “Screw it, just give me his major league totals already!” please reference the data below his handsomely stubbled glam shot. For more personal information, let’s check the back of the card …



Ha, ha! For reals? I never knew that!

According to Wikipedia, George Brett’s nickname is/was “Mullet,” which I have never, ever heard him referred to as in my life, but then again, whatever. I don’t believe his mullet even approached the magnificence of some others from that era, so I don’t know where that nickname comes from, and Wiki surprisingly offers no explanation. These days, George Brett is the perpetually tan co-owner of the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes, a team that, like their owner, wears hats. I trust all of this information has been helpful.

Zinged By Skeeter

Skeeter Barnes, 1990 Topps

Quick question: How many Skeeter Barnes(es?) do you think there are in the world? NO CHEATING!

Did you say “one?” Yeah, I’m sure you did. Well, you are an idiot. There are two Skeeter Barnes in the world! At least two, I guess. If there are three Skeeter Barnes in the world, or even four, then I just … whatever. That is too many, in my opinion.

Anyway, one Skeeter Barnes was a baseball player and is featured above. The other Skeeter Barnes is a chain of beef and barbeque restaurants—I didn’t say they had to be people; burn!—based in Nebraska. Judging by their website, they are represented not by Skeeter Barnes the ex-ballplayer, but by an obese bald man with a very long mustache who proclaims in ALL CAPS that they have the best beef and bbq around. (Then, if you put the cursor on him, he eats the rib he is holding and exclaims, “HMM!” Sold!) Also, feel free to shop at the Skeeter Store for their array of sauces and t-shirts! Or, if you prefer, t-shirts and sauces.

Neither Skeeter Barnes the player’s Wikipedia page nor the “About Skeeter Barnes” page on the restaurant’s website express any relation between each other, and I find this to be astounding. At the risk of being redundant in using an example of a rather obscure professional athlete with a sort of silly name, this would be like a chain of seafood restaurants called Bimbo Coles that had nothing to do with the former NBA player. Really, I am dumbfounded. You? Not so much? Then I digress.



In 1983 Skeeter achieved one of his fondest dreams, making it to the major leagues with his hometown team.

That’s pretty cool, I guess. One of his other fondest dreams, however, was to be a firefighter who saves the President of the United States from a burning Oval Office, which he was never able to achieve, and which has haunted him throughout his life. Oh well!

Skeeter Barnes was a prolific minor league player who finally achieved regular big league playing time with the Tigers when he was 34 years old, and as a result, became a popular player often likened to Bull Durham’s Crash Davis. His lack of a direct affiliation with a barbeque restaurant that bears his own odd and by-contemporary-standards-kind-of-nasty-name notwithstanding, he was a great success as a professional baseball player.

His BR Bullpen page, rather oddly, concludes with a list of quotes that the reader is left to assume can be attributed to Barnes himself, although they are certainly not of the Socratic or even Yogi Berra variety. To list a few:

"Kick mule!"

?

"Yeah ya ain't."

These are just (non)words that don’t mean anything that seem like a response to something none of us are even aware of. This would be like attributing me with the famous quote, “Yesterday, I think.”

"Run like hell."

Was Skeeter Barnes the first/only person to ever say this? I anxiously await the Ken Burns’ documentary, “Run Like Hell,” about the time Skeeter Barnes told that guy to run like hell, and he did, and they won the game.

"Hit us a sac fly."

No wonder he later became a coach and manager:

“Strawberry! Hit a home run!”

“Sure thing, Skip.”

"Hit it over that New Grape sign."

Ditto!

"Yall putting me to sleep."

The nerve of not maintaining Skeeter Barnes’ attention! Better to fail and keep Skeeter Barnes alert than succeed and make Skeeter Barnes fall asleep! You know this.

"Is that Good's brother out there, No Good?"

Wow, that is terrible. Why wouldn’t Good’s brother also be good, since they are brothers and probably share many characteristics? I am confused.

"It's called cetch, not fetch."

It’s not called cetch either. Nevertheless … you’ve just been zinged by the Skeeter! DEAL WITH IT.

What Ben's Been Up To Lately

Dear Gentle Reader,

Ben here. I haven't posted in a while and wanted to get you up to speed with what I've been up to. 

Let's see ... I put the finishing touches on the 1956 Topps set. Last card: Yogi Berra. My Mantle has a nice, fat, and healthy crease down the middle. Next set to finish will be 1961 Fleer Baseball Greats. ... I've started a tumblr photo blog called "Old Basketball Cards" that is exactly what it sounds like: scans of old basketball cards from my collection. ... I'm also thinking of collecting the 1965 Topps set, and am about 140 cards in. ... I've been listening to a couple great bands lately, Noah And The Whale and White Denim. Definitely check them out when you can. ... 

But the real reason I'm posting tonight is to share with you a custom card set I just finished for Boston Lyric Opera, the premier opera company in Boston, Massachusetts (as the name would suggest). Each season, they designate a group of youngish performers as "Emerging Artists." I was asked to create a card for each to celebrate this honor. Here's what I came up with.

I appropriated the trophy from a photo of Meredith Hansen in concert (see below). 

This was a fun project. I'll share the backs I soon as I get them finished.

While I Have Been Away...

I really should apologize for leaving you without my silly custom cards for so long... But I won't. I'll just show you one of the projects that I have been working on lately.

Completing my submission for the annual Halloween custom card making contest over at Thorzul Will Rule, took up a fair amount of time. It is now past Veterans Day, and he still hasn't announced a winner. I didn't receive an honorable mention, nor did I place third or second... So I'm thinking if he ever gets around to posting the winner, I stand a reasonable chance of finishing in the top spot. (He's a new dad, so I imagine he is just a little bit busy. Congrats on creating a new Brewers fan, from all of us at TBCB!)

It has been a while since I sent in my submission, and I really like seeing my work displayed for the public, so here is a little preview:

Front

Back



It was a minor news story back in '85. You might have missed it. Zombies took over the art department at Fleer on Halloween evening. Apparently, the zombies made some interesting changes to the baseball cards for 1986 that the living designers had been diligently preparing for the following spring. (Note: the "living" designers were only living until, of course, their brains were eaten.) 

Word around the hobby campfire was that some of the Zombified cards made their way into wax packs in '86. I had not heard about them until shortly after the contest was announced. I was searching through a bargain bin at my local card shop looking for ideas, and I stumbled across the card shown above.

I decided at that moment I needed to find these so-called Zombified 1986 Fleer baseball cards to submit to the contest as my own work. It took several days of scavenging the internet, but I was able to purchase a complete pack of the Zombified cards on eBay for just under $90 (with FREE shipping from Romania!)

I'm not sure what the cards look like inside the sealed wax pack, but when they are revealed on Thorzul Will Rule, I will add a link here. WooHoo! I Won!

Talk Sports. Sell Fish. Work Hard.

Dennis Lamp, 1989 Donruss

My name is Dennis Lamp. I used to play baseball for the Boston Red Sox. They filmed “Where the Wild Things Are” on my upper lip. It was a 17-week shoot. I didn’t charge ‘em nothing.

My name is Dennis Lamp. I talk sports. I sell fish. I work hard. Don’t believe me? Check it out. Yeah, I work at a fish counter these days, and I’m loving every minute of it. Ain’t trying to be some ex-ballplayer clinging to what wasn’t and showin’ his face at every autograph show this side of the Susquehanna. Get a real job, exie. I’m a working man. Ain’t in it for the glory. Try this one on for size:

Though Dennis Lamp fields the occasional autograph request, most shoppers seem to have no idea that the burly, outgoing man handling their halibut once came within three outs of pitching a no-hitter against the Milwaukee Brewers.

All true. ‘Cept for the burly part. Don’t know what that’s about—been staying in fine shape these days (pulls up sleeve, flexes bicep). Nevertheless, how many times you been handed a fresh piece of halibut and thought to yourself, “I wonder if that man—or woman I guess—who handed me this fresh halibut ever came without three outs of pitching a no hitter against the Milwaukee Brewers ... ” I mean, it’s a common fantasy, to wonder something like that. But in my particular case, yeah—it happened. That’s all the fame I need to get by. Now here’s your fish—get outta here and go have a nice meal with your family. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.



My name is Dennis Lamp. I was 1 win short of Luis Arroyo’s 61’ record for most consecutive wins by a reliever in ’84 w/ Blue Jays. A lot of people ask me about that one. Questions like, “What was the record?” and “What?” and “Where is my shrimp?” It was tough though, thinking about it now, coming just short of that completely random record that nobody knows about. Kept me up nights. Then I got into sabermetrics and was like, pfft. Wins on a reliever is like a nipples on a lizard. Does it happen? Sure. But it ain’t nothing to base a career on. I’ll hang my hat on my 1989 178 ERA+, thank you very much. Math. Learn it.

My name is Dennis Lamp. I was voted most handsome player in the major leagues 1977 – 1980 inclusive. That’s according to Wikipedia. Some people think that isn’t true, because sometimes people think it’s funny to add silly, out-of-place tidbits at the end of Wikipedia entries. Get a life, Wiki-nerds! Anyway, yeah, it happened. Got the trophy in storage—it’s just a 14-karat gold mustache on a stick, and the bottom plate reads, “Most Handsome Big Leaguer, 1977-1980 Inclusive.” It’s an every-three-years award, cumulative. That’s why you don’t go to the ballpark looking like a schlub, ya’ know? No big deal though. Don’t take a lot of pride in it. Just working with what I got.

My name is Dennis Lamp. And guess what? I saw “Anchorman,” too. The love you express is disingenuous, and I don’t appreciate it. Just wanted to get that off my chest.

Now who’s next?

The Purple Sky of Destiny

Rondell White, 1992 Upper Deck, Top Prospect ‘92

It was a starry, purple evening, like out of a {person who writes about that stuff} novel, when Rondell White, Top Prospect of ’92, first contemplated his existence. “What is the meaning of life anyway? Why do I have two bats? What is an Expo? Is the moon really made of cheese?” But the most important question Rondell asked himself that night was this one: “What does the future hold for me, Rondell White? Will I ever hit 30 ding-dongs?”

“Ha, ha! Sloooow down, Rondell!” said the purple sky.



Comparisons are often tough to live up to,

Is that true? I honestly cannot think of a single occasion when a person—especially an athlete—failed to realize the expectations prematurely placed on him by others. Every human being I have ever known has simply morphed into the person with whom he or she was most often compared. That’s a fact of life. And it’s easy, no? I am going to send that statement to our research department, and I will get back to you.

but scouts say White reminds them of the Cubs’ Andre Dawson and the Pirates’ Barry Bonds.

Comparisons are often tough to live up, but here are two comparisons for Rondell White to live up to, the latter of which is one of the greatest players ever in history. Good luck, Rondell! Sincerely, Upper Deck.

In ’91, White worked on his one weakness, throwing, by moving from left field to center field

Mngr: Hey, Rondell, come here for a sec. Listen buddy, I’m gonna break it down for you, tough-love-manager-style. You got four tools. Fif? Ehhh, not so much. In layman’s terms—you can’t throw. But here’s what I’m gonna do for you. I’m gonna move you from left field, where it’s a little easier to throw, to center field, where traditionally you gotta be able to throw a bit farther. You’re only 19, so your arm’s got plenty of time to grow magically stronger and also longer, like a slingshot. Now listen—I know it seems like I’m exposing your one weakness rather than hiding it. But by doing this, I’m really just implying that you’re not trying hard enough to throw better. This is your future at stake here! Prove me wrong, Rondell. Prove me wrong. I mean, prove me right? Whatever. Now get out there.

How did it go?

And he lit up the South Atlantic League with one fantastic catch after another

Mgr: (Leaning back, feet on his desk, newspaper sits on the desk with headline about Rondell White's game-saving catch the previous night) Had a guy here a while back. Scouts told me he couldn’t hit. So what’d I do? Stuck him in the cleanup spot. What happened? Became the ace of our staff. Didn’t have to hit anymore. That pitcher’s name? Walter Johnson.

The story of Rondell White conquering his weakness of throwing by being able to catch the ball better so that he wouldn’t have to throw—except for runners tagging, but really, how often does that happen?—is one that should be passed down from generation to generation. The lesson: If you can’t do something well, do something else so that you don’t have to do the other thing so much.

He also improved his ability to hit the curve ball.

Rondell White improved on his one weakness, throwing, by learning to catch better. He also improved on his other weakness, hitting a curveball, which wasn’t so much a weakness, I guess, as it was, like … a thing with room for improvement?, by hitting more curveballs.

And so it was that Rondell White, with two bats, hit endless curveballs into the purple night sky, and lit up that sky with a flair for making fantastic catches. One year he even hit 28 ding-dongs, which is almost 30, and he married Jerry Manuel’s daughter, and showed up in the Mitchell Report. When he saw the name “Rondell White” in the report, he said, “Who’s that?” Because by then, there was no doubt—he was Andre Bonds.