I Want to See Topps Heritage Push the Envelope

I haven't purchased a pack or any single cards from a Topps Heritage product in over two years (the last one I collected was Heritage '59, in 2008). I did this for a variety of reasons, most notably because I just didn't have the income to justify collecting another new set. I also stood (and continue to stand) firmly in the belief that the Heritage brand should've ended with the Heritage '59 (2008) set, and that Topps should've rechristened the subsequent sets as "Topps Classic." In any event, I've been thinking about this year's Heritage ('61), and I think I've hit upon a way to make the brand more appealing.

The Heritage checklister has done an admirable job "updating" checklists from the original sets and filling in each spot with its twenty-first century player equivalent. They haven't gotten everything right (as an homage to 1960's card #1, Cy Young-winner Early Wynn of the White Sox, 2009's card #1 was Mark Buerhle of the White Sox; it should have been one of the reigning Cy Young winners, Cliff Lee or Tim Lincecum), but 100% accuracy is not something any card company should be expected to achieve.

But a sly wink and an inside joke to an original checklist is no longer enough to buoy a set. The company has to continue to push the envelope or else they'll begin to lose the audience, or make them cynical about the checklisting tactics used ("Thom" Glavine, anyone? How about those annoying black backs versus green backs from the Heritage '59 set?).

The next logical step is the photo homage. Not just one or two photos sprinkled over the checklist, either. If they made every photograph on every card an homage to its checklist buddy from the original set, that would be something to write home about, something that would elevate the Heritage brand out of the retro-design doldrums.

Of course, to accomplish this, the Topps photographers would have to actually study the original set and pose their subjects down to the minutest detail. They'd also have to shoot their photos with an idea of recreating the photographic standards of the 1960s. Presumably, color-correcting of this caliber is something that Adobe Photoshop could assist in accomplishing.

I've never been a huge fan of the 1961 set. I think the design is one of Topps' weakest of the decade and the era, and the photos fairly unimaginative. Really, the only great part of the set are the subsets (the Brady Bunch-esque League Leaders, the MVPs, the All-Stars, the combo cards — "Lindy Shows Larry", anyone? — the World Series cards, and the Historical Highlights), an idea that exploded in 1961 and came to dominate the Topps Sixties.

It would be great to get "Josh Shows Daisuke" in my pack of Heritage '61 and not have it be two silhouetted shots of the individuals placed near each other. I'd appreciate the homage much more if Josh Beckett was smiling awkwardly while showing Daisuke Matsuzaka how to throw a curve.

Topps Million Card Failaway

Hey Topps Online Freelance Copywriter,

Is that "Jackie Robinson '58" card you're talking about the one where he's retired instead of donning the Giants' uniform? Is that the one you're talking about? Because if I remember correctly, Jackie's last card was in 1956.


YOU WORK FOR TOPPS! KNOW YOUR HISTORY BEFORE YOU PUBLISH!

Keeper trade with Cardboard Junkie

Thanks Dave! What can I send in return? Let me consult my Braves...

Keeper: 1960 Leaf "Baseball's Two Hal Smiths"

Consolidation has never felt so good. Big trade with Blake Meyer of Twinscards.com, not to mention selling off stacks and stacks of cards on eBay have left me focused. More is going up later this week, including vintage basketball cards.

Over the past week I've received a lot of recommendations for Keepers, so I thought I'd kick things off by talking about one of my favorite cards: 1960 Leaf "Baseball's Two Hal Smiths". It's on my Keeper List, and is a card I don't own.

It's a Keeper because it isn't clear what the two Hal Smiths are doing in their photo. Are they negotiating over the bill? Are they diapering a baby? Because the background has been removed, context is missing (and desperately, desperately needed). These guys could be anywhere – a bus stop... a locker room...

It's no secret, my love for 1960 Leaf (read my set review here). The photos are mug-shot bad, the cards themselves came packaged with marbles, and the design has a style aesthetic with as much pizzazz as checkerboard kitchen linoleum. But what it's lacking in visual appeal, it more than makes up for in awkwardness. Awkward halos behind each head. Awkward checklist including immortal baseball gods Stover McIlwain (out of the league since 1958), Marshall Renfroe (career = 1 game in 1959), and baseball's two Hal Smiths (one a journeyman, the other an All Star). And did I mention that the cards were awkwardly packaged with marbles? I understand that Topps had cornered the market on the cards and gum thing, but seriously, who came up with marbles?

There's something about Hal Smith... both of him. I can't think of another time when two players shared the same name. (Wait a minute... Steve Ontiveros? Weren't there two of that guy?) I've mentioned this already, but one Hal was a journeyman and the other Hal was an All Star. The All Star had a knack for showing up on his baseball cards in full catcher regalia; that is, toothily smiling through his mask in a creepy crouching position. I can think of at least two cards (1958 Topps and 1960 Topps) of him photographed like that. The journeyman was just ugly: pursed lips, narrowed eyes... it was as if he was a street-corner criminal scouting for the next fence.

This one is also a Keeper for me because it's a combo card. But instead of Hal and Hal hamming it up under a corny line like "Backstop Buddies" or something, as Topps was wont to do throughout the Sixties, Sports Novelties kept it obvious, in a Ripley's Believe-it-or-Not informative kind of way. It's "Baseball's Two Hal Smiths" because that's who they are. In the end it matters not what they're doing, just that they appear together. 

That's why this one's a Keeper.

Purge: The first cards to go

Purge update. There's no turning back. Those of you who want to trade with me or want some of my cards, email me and we'll figure something out. Also, two nights ago I started listing cards on eBay. You can follow my auctions here.

Last night I posted three lots of 1959 Topps Venezuelan, nine cards total. Almost immediately, they all sold at the "buy it now" price. If you're interested in Venezuelan cards, I have about 20 from 1960 and 16 from 1966, in various conditions, with Hall of Famers, stars of the day, rookies, Yankees, Dodgers, and commons.

Also this weekend, I'll be posting a whole bunch of lots from the 1970s, as well as going through and putting together a 1986 Topps set, then giving away all the doubles. If you're in the Brookline/Boston area and have a hankering for 1986 Topps baseball cards, drop me a line before I drop them on Craigslist.

The Keeper List update. As part of The Epiphany, I'm putting together a list of Keepers. What makes a card a Keeper? It's a card I have a favorable gut reaction to, if that makes any sense. For me the holy quintet of baseball cards is 1953 Topps Ed Mathews, 1954 Topps O'Brien Brothers, 1958 Topps Stan Musial All-Star, 1959 Topps Roy Campanella "Symbol of Courage" and 1972 Topps Roberto Clemente. These are cards I'd consider framing, cards that transcend their subjects, cards that I consider artwork. Of course there are others: 1978 Topps Eddie Murray, 1986 Donruss Jose Canseco, 1987 Topps Bo Jackson to name a few.

This is a work in progress, but you can follow that progress by viewing the Keeper List here. If you'd like to trade with me, these are the cards I'm interested in obtaining.

This weekend I'm going to start posting more about The Purge in earnest. But I'm serious, if you want to trade with me or you just plain want some of my cards, email me.

The Epiphany

I had an epiphany last night in conversation with my fiancee. And truthfully, I've had this thought before, just no reason to do it. I'm going to focus my collection down to 5,000 cards – 10,000 at most.

You may be thinking "Wow Ben, don't limit yourself" in a sarcastic way, but I have over 200,000 cards. That's not a collection. That's a landfill. And what of the other 190,000 to 195,000? Hello, eBay.

So what spurred this? The constant battle for space against the clutter, that's what. Since childhood I've been a neatfreak trapped in a trash collector's body. Like all people, my interest in things waxes and wanes, but unlike most people, I never make a clean break. I have hundreds of CDs. I have two very heavy boxes full of 16mm films from the 1940s. I have a postcard folder collection that rivals my sports card collection. My fiancee and I have a huge library of books. I collect Chris Ware books and prints. The list just goes on from there.

This is something I need to do. And this morning I got the ball rolling. A few days ago a friend of mine (who is currently housing most of my card collection) visited and dropped off a box brimming with my basketball card collection, all 5,000 or so cards of it, not counting the vintage stuff I've bought on the side through the years. Just a week ago I would've been excited to get it back and lovingly sort through the stacks.

This morning I got up early. I sorted through the entire box, pulling out the Celtics and the 1989-90 Hoops (by far my favorite basketball set of my youth). After that, I put up a notice on the Boston Craigslist: FREE Big Box of Basketball Cards. By 3pm it was on its way home with a new owner.

During the handing-off of the box, I was a little nervous, like making sure my kid was okay to ride the bus to sleep-away camp. But after it was done, I was surprised at how clean I felt.

I've tried focusing my collection before: only cards of the Red Sox, and only cards made before 1972. Well, then how did I end up with thousands of commons from 1973, 1974, and 1975? How did I end up with nearly 1,000 cards from 2008 Topps Heritage? Why, oh why did I just buy not one but two boxes of 1991 Topps?

I think I can do 5,000 cards total. I know I can do 10,000. I drafted a "keep" sheet this morning:

Sets
• 1986 Topps set (792)
• 1986 Topps Traded set (132)
• 1987 Topps set (792)
• 1987 Topps Traded set (132)

Still try to complete:
• 1962 Post Cereal (200)
• 1956 Topps (Life Goal territory here) (340)

• Cap out Red Sox collection at 1,000 unique cards

So far that's a total of 3,188 cards. That leaves me with 1,812 individual cards at the least; 6,812 at the most.

Lately I've been thinking about the purpose of continuing The Baseball Card Blog. I know that I've brought this up many times in the past, and that I've never come to a clear, concise conclusion about what to do.

I think I've figured the whole thing out. The way I see it, it follows a trilogy arc.

Act One: Binge (2006-2007)
I revel in the idea of rediscovering cards from childhood. I rank all the sets from the 1980s and early 1990s. I highlight the wonderfully inane with The Fantastic Card of the Day.

Act Two: Revelation (2008)
I wonder aloud at the posturing of the industry players; I even enter the game and consult for Topps on a few of their projects. I embrace the mighty modern-day airbrush and create a virtual cardboard homage to "Casey at the Bat." I flesh out previous blog entries and edit a standalone book ("The Baseball Card Book", never published).

Act Three: Purge (2010)
After a year of inactivity, I come full circle and explore ways of dodging the metaphorical iceberg that is 200,000 sports cards and nowhere to store them. I blog about The Keeper List and why certain cards make it and most don't. At the end of the Purge, I end the blog as a focused collector, an individual who's found meaning in the cards (and who's recognized that not all cards have meaning).


My friend and I were talking over lunch when I brought up the idea that tossing out most of our collections would be a good thing. He threw me a pack of 2010 Topps and said I sounded like I needed to be talked down from the ledge. But I don't think it's unnatural, just the logical third step for any collector (or their well-meaning, spring-cleaning mother): cleanse the palate, and focus on what matters.

Breathe easy, Oil Can, you're a Keeper.