Ball So Hard

Tom Brookens, 1989 Donruss 
NOTE: Don't ask me about the stain because I don't know

TOM BROOKENS

WATCH THE THRONE

"BALL SO HARD ****** ******* WANNA FINE ME"









LET'S CHECK THE HIGHLIGHTS Y'ALL

Idled during '84 pennant stretch for Tigers due to pulled hamstring...

= HIGHLIGHT

"BALL SO HARD OOPS THERE GO MY HAMSTRING
BUT I AIN'T HAMSTRUNG
GONNA CHEER 'COP THAT RING'
ON THE BENCH CHECKIN' MY SAMSUNG"






Missed a month of '81 season with ankle and hamstring injuries...

= HIGHLIGHT

Started triple play and went 5-for-5 in same game 8/20/80 vs. Brewers...

MORE LIKE LOWLIGHT AMIRIGHT

THIS IS PLAYED OUT, IMMA HOLLA AT WIKIPEDIA

Tigers radio announcer Ernie Harwell nicknamed Brookens "the Pennsylvania Poker", a play on the song "Pennsylvania Polka."

HIDE YOUR KIDS, HIDE YOUR WIFE, THE PENNSYLVANIA POKER'S COMIN' TO TOWN

"POKE SO MANY BALLS ****** ******* WANNA FINE ME"









HOW GOOD WAS TOM BROOKENS AT POKING BALLS?

He did lead American League (AL) third basemen in errors twice, in 1980 and 1985, but that was largely because he was getting to so many more grounders than other fielders;

"LED LEAGUE IN ERRORS TWICE, SON
IF YOU WANNA GET STATISTICAL
FOR REAL 'IT AIN'T MY FAULT' THO
SHOUT OUT TO HOMIE MYSTIKAL






Brookens also has the dubious honor of sharing (with 21 others) the AL record for the most errors in a game by a third baseman, four, on September 6, 1980.

OKAY I GET IT HE WAS GOOD AT POKING BALLS.

Brookens' twin brother Tim was also drafted in 1975 by the Texas Rangers; he was later traded to the Tigers organization, but never made the majors. In spring training, Tim and Tom would sometimes switch identities, even suiting up in each other's uniforms;

"THAT SH*T CRAY, AIN'T IT, TOM?"

"BALL SO HARD"

"WHAT SHE ORDER, FISH FILET"

"BALL SO HARD"

"DON'T LET ME INTO MY ZONE"

"I'M DEFINITELY IN MY ZONE"

The Tonic

Jay Howell, 1989 Score

Jay was just the tonic the Dodgers’ bullpen needed in 1988.

Tommy Lasorda: Our bullpen sucks!

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: If only we could find the right tonic.

Tommy Lasorda: (eats three pounds of pasta) (uses bathroom) (takes nap) (comes back to bullpen) Well?

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: Well what? Did you find the tonic?

Tommy Lasorda: Me? I was going to ask you the same thing. I’m the *** **** manager! I don’t find the tonic! I just play the tonic! Who’s responsible for finding the tonic around here?

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: I think Fred is.

Tommy Lasorda: (grabs bullpen phone) Fred? We need some *** **** bullpen tonic!

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: I think that phone just goes to the dugout.

He gave them the superb closer they had been missing in recent years after being traded from the Athletics at the end of ’87.

Fred: Everyone, meet Jay Howell, our new tonic.

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: Hello, Jay. 


Tommy Lasorda:

Fred: I firmly believe Jay is the superb closer we’ve been missing in recent years after being traded from the Athletics at the end of ’87.

Tommy Lasorda: (jarred awake) What the hell was that sentence, Fred?

Fred: I just …

Dodgers’ bullpen coach: You went from Jay being the subject to the Dodgers being the subject back to Jay being the subject.

Tommy Lasorda: You made it sound like we’ve been missing a superb closer ever since we—the *** **** Dodgers—were traded from the A’s. Shit, Fred.

Fred: Listen, dickheads. I’m paid to go get tonics, not master English.

Jay Howell: Can I like, start warming up or whatever?

Lasorda: You shut your pie hole, tonic boy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Oh, hey, hi there. Sorry about that post. I know, it was dumber than ushe. Anyway, I wanted to let you all know that I wrote a new book (which, to the chagrin of very few, partially explains my lack of posting on this wonderful blog of late). It's called The Man in the Garlic Tuxedo and you can find out more about it here and maybe, I don't know, buy it? here. Like the previous book, it contains nothing about baseball cards, but maybe you will like it anyway because it is, I have heard, funny and good and nice. Please buy it. I am not good at promotion. Thank you.

Frank

Frank Viola, 1989 Sports Illustrated for Kids

Picture me, 1989, delicately tearing out the perforated card of a curly-haired, mustachioed pitcher and adding it to my collection. Who's living better than this? Got my own magazine subscription, practice is in 45 minutes, 'bout to get on the phone with this girl who I might like but only if she likes me, got my dope new 3-D-ish Frank Viola card ... can't tell me NOTHIN'. Wait 'till I get my money right.

Frank won the American League Cy Young Award in 1988,

Please use his last name, Sports Illustrated for Kids, and stay true to AP Style. Frank. That's so stupid. Frank won the Cy Young. That doesn't even sound real. It sounds like what Jeremy Viola told Mrs. Viola when his brother Frank won the Cy Young. "Ma, Frank won the Cy Young." Frank won the Nobel Peace Prize. Frank discovered penicillin. I don't believe a person named Frank did those things. I'm going to need a last name.

This is what always bothered me about Sports Illustrated for Kids - they were so patronizing. It's fine if you want to cater to kids or whatever and throw in some cartoons or perforated sports cards or what have you. But don't call him Frank. I wasn't trading cards as a kid like, I'LL TRADE YOU THIS TODD FOR THAT DON SORRY CAN'T PROCESS SURNAMES JUST A KID MY NAME IS MIKE.

I mean, yeah, maybe I AM a dumb, illiterate kid who smells, but I'm not an idiot, you know? I do subscribe to your magazine that my mommy got me for Christmas. I don't know, maybe I'm getting all bent out of shape about this pointless card from a kid's magazine from 1989. Maybe they weren't as patronizing as I remember.

Fans call Frank "Sweet Music" because of his last name. What is a viola?

A BIRD! AN INVESTMENT STRATEGY! NO, A BOOK! NO, A SKATEBOARD! A VEGETABLE! ANOTHER NAME FOR A HOT DOG! GERMANY! A VIDEO GAME! WAX! NO, SOMETHING SWEET! MY AUNT!

THE ANSWER IS UPSIDE DOWN WTF I'LL NEVER KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did you know?
FRANK'S FAVORITE COLOR JELLYBEAN IS WATERMELON.

Reflexes

Bill Doran, 1989 Donruss

CHECK OUT MY CAT-LIKE REFLEXES.

I AM READY FOR THE PITCH, PITCHER. PITCH THAT SHIZZ.

I DON'T CARE HOW FAST YOU PITCH IT, I AM READY.

OH SNAP, ABOUT TO GET YOUR PITCH ON, HUH? IMMA BOUT TO POUNCE.

HERE IT COMES ... THE PITCH IS WHAT I AM REFERRING TO.

I AM GOING TO HIT THIS PITCH WITH MY BASEBALL BAT.

BUT ONLY IF IT'S A GOOD ONE!

IF IT'S A CRAPPY PITCH I WILL LET IT PASS UNABAITED.

THIS PITCHER IS CRAPPY SO THE PITCH MIGHT BE CRAPPY ... I MUST REMEMBER THAT.

THIS IS TAKING FOREVER!

THE CROWD IS GETTING READY TO SEE WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT.

THE PITCH IS CLOSER NOW, ALMOST HERE.

HERE COMES THE PITCH!

ELBOW UP.

THE PITCH IS HERE!

IT IS A LIKE A BLUR TO MOST, BUT I SEE IT CLEARLY WITH MY CAT EYES.

WHAT SHOULD I DO?

A) SWING
B) NOT SWING
C) HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO PHYSICAL REACTION WHATSOEVER
D) FART

I HAVEN'T MADE UP MY MIND YET.

OH, YO WTF -- THIS PITCH MIGHT HIT ME!

BETTER GET OUTTA DA WAY ... AND FAST!

TOO LATE!

I WASN'T PREPARED FOR THIS SCENARIO!

WAIT, MAYBE IT WON'T HIT ME? MAYBE IT'S JUST TOO HIGH OR SOMETHING.

THIS PITCH IS HIGHER THAN CHEECH AND CHONG (JOKE).

IF THIS PITCH HITS ME IT WILL REALLY HURT NEXT WEEK.

(IT TAKES MY BODY A WEEK TO PROCESS PAIN.)

I AM READY FOR THE PITCH.

FOR REALS THIS TIME.

No Trouble With the Screw

 

Erik Hanson, 1989 Baseball Cards Magazine

Here is another baseball card that I did a terrible job of cutting out of Baseball Cards Magazine, which is a thing I used to subscribe to, I guess. Pictured here is ROOKIE STAR OF 1989, Erik Hanson, who looks as though he just -- like the second this picture was snapped -- experienced every phase of puberty all at once.

But if you think the front of this card is awesome, which it most certainly is not, let us then go all the way to the back.

We see here that Hanson's "home" is in Washington, but according to Wiki he grew up in my home state of New Jersey and attended Peddie High School. Now, I went to an all-boys Catholic high school in NJ and even I viewed Peddie as elitist. For example, it's not even referred to as, like I just did, Peddie High School, but only Peddie School. Barf. Stories about Peddie athletes were like folklore: "I heard Peddie got this new soccer player from Cambodia who is UNBELIEVABLE and whose dad is Pele." Sometimes we would play Peddie in a stupid sport like lacrosse or something, and they would arrive in a tricked-out, luxury charter bus with their school logo, and they'd walk out, kick our asses at lacrosse, and then leave. Also, they had girls there. Anyway, screw Peddie, is all I'm saying.

A dominant college pitcher who was passed over in the first round of the draft due to a nagging knee injury,

I'm not saying this statement is outright implying such, but I'm consistently offended by the implication that certain athletes with major question marks were not justified in being "passed over" in the draft. Whenever that athlete experiences a little success at the pro level, we're made to think organizations were dumb to pass them over. You didn't draft Erik Hanson in the first round because he had a nagging knee injury? I'm not hating on that. You passed on Gronk because his back was about to fall off? That's cool. You let Randy Moss slide because he's batsh*t crazy? All of this is okay with me, and I don't think we should be convinced otherwise.

Hanson arrived in a big way with the Mariners

Posting a sub-1 WHIP with a 3-to-1 K/BB ratio in his first three starts?

winning two of his first five major-league starts

Wow, that IS a big way. I'm sold! Could you imagine if he won three of five starts THAT WOULD BE INSANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hanson credits an attitude change in Double-A Chattanooga for his success, which resulted in a 12-7 record at Calgary last year.

Erik Hanson: This bus is dirty! I can't be ready to pitch under these conditions? Where is a payphone, I must call mother ...

Scooter Geetz, Manager, Chattanooga Chihuahas: Now listen here, young'n. Ain't too sure where ya'lls grew up and what ya'll there accustomed to, but 'round these here parts we don't have nuttin' handed to us. Hard work is all, scrappin' and puttin yer nose to the grind stone and what not. Now I here reckon if you don't get yer head on straight and go pitch out there like ya' mean it, it's gonna be a loooong season.

Erik Hanson: Thinks ... You're right. I am going to adjust my attitude starting right now. Hey you, black person -- give me a high five or whatever you call it!

Exciting montage of Hanson going 12-7, at end holds up award for "Best 12-7 Season, Calgary."

Still the question remains, what was Erik Hanson's most famous pitch?

Wikipedia notes that he was known for possessing an excellent curveball. The difference between a screwball and a curveball is that only the screwball can be represented through the profound cartoon imagery of throwing an absurdly large screw, which is illegal and which also would be impossible to throw for a strike or even near the plate. I know that because I've tried. I have a lot of screws in my garage and I don't what they are for.

Spahn Games

Warren Spahn, 1989 Donruss Diamond Kings puzzle

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check out my Warren Spahn puzzle, ya’ll.

Do you like baseball? Do you like puzzles? Do you like baseball player Warren Spahn, who was born in 1921? Are you 12-years old but like being patronized as if you were 4-years old?

Can you put together a puzzle that is literally like 10 pieces? Here’s part of a hat! Where does that go? On his leg? The yellow part is confusing! Mommy, where is my sippy cup?

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! The Warren Spahn puzzle card is a collector’s item, which is why I have 212 of them for some reason. Did they come in pieces or fully assembled? I cannot remember. If they came in pieces, I am the greatest puzzle-put-togetherer in the universe. Just sayin'.

According to Beckett, the Warren Spahn puzzle card is presently worth: Please see a publication that rates puzzles.

According to Highlights Magazine, the Warren Spahn puzzle card is worth three-and-a-half smiley faces. Holla!

The best time to put together your Warren Spahn puzzle card is at a restaurant while you are sitting in a high chair and playing with crayons. Are you done? Cool! Now it's time for the maze. How is that leprechaun going to reach the pot of gold? It seems impossible, I know. Just think about it. Take your time. Oh snap - chicken fingers are here!

Warren Spahn is the ultimate Diamond King. Can you piece together "the puzzle" of his dominance? Here's a clue: Look at the words. For example, 363 WINS. That's a lot of those! 20 OR MORE WINS 13 TIMES. Too much math. What is this, a puzzle for nerd babies? 2 NO HITTERS. No hitter = zero hits. Two times zero is zero. Warren Spahn had zero no hitters. Hey, I know SOME math. Back of the puzzle card, what's poppin'?

The white part means the bottom! Without clues like that, puzzles would only be for genius astronaut brain doctors.

Hey, remember jigsaw puzzles? One time my aunt got me a jigsaw puzzle of some landscape with a lion in it and I was like, "Worst Chirstmas ever!" Who has the time? But this Warren Spahn card is different. It's not a jigsaw; it's just a regular puzzle. To qualify as a jigsaw, you have to have at least a lot of pieces and be stupid. No offense to jig-heads, which is what I assume you call yourselves.

I can bang out a Warren Spahn puzzle in an afternoon, easy. Let's see if I still got it. Gonna take this baby apart and start over ...

I ruined it. These puzzle pieces do not stand the test of time. Shit, how many wins did Warren Spahn have again? I am lost!

Dude Puts on Twenty

Lenny Dykstra, 1989 Score

It seems silly now, considering his much publicized fall from grace, but in his heyday Lenny Dykstra was literally the most popular person in the universe. Imagine if David Eckstein chewed tobacco and was good at baseball, and you have only a fraction of an idea of how beloved Lenny Dykstra was. I mean, his name was Lenny for crying out loud. It doesn't get more blue collar than that.

He won over two rival cities with his charm and elegance. He had many nicknames, including "Nails" for his tough-as-nails persona (note: nails are very tough, except when I try to hammer them and bend them because I am tougher than nails and also terrible at hammering); "Dude," apparently; and, along with former teammate Wally Backman, "Wild Boys," for, according to Wikipedia, their scrappy play and propensity to serve as the spark plugs for a star-studded lineup. Wild boys = spark plugs for a star-studded lineup, and has nothing to do with off-the-field activities, in which neither Dykstra nor Backman ever participated. There is indeed something very wild and animalistic about getting on base so Darryl Strawberry can drive you in with a home run. That type of untamed spirit is typically locked in a zoo.

Dykstra was Nails, a dude, wild, a spark plug, a scrapper, a hustler, white, a bunter (above), a hunter (of runs ... and also bears, maybe), a ferocious competitor, a throwback, gutsy, and owner of big heart that pumped the blood necessary for winning baseball games by any means. Another thing Dykstra was good at, according to this baseball card, was increasing in mass size over the span of only a few months:

Lenny, the Mets' fiesty leadoff batter,

Hey, I forgot to mention that Dykstra was also fiesty. It's kind of a given, yes, but still -- I apologize.

bulked up during the offseason by lifting weights and went into 1988 with some 20 extra pounds of muscle.

All on the up and up. Obviously this card is more incriminating than praiseworthy, but this is just one of many "guy dedicated himself to lifting and gained X-amount of weight during the offseason" anecdotes we have all read about forever. Now, even though I blog about my old baseball cards, I am not a doctor, so I do wonder: what is a conceivable amount of weight for a grown man to gain naturally as a result of intense weight-lifting? I would say -- again, not a doctor -- zero pounds, unless that person is also eating the weights. If the person is supplementing these intense workouts with a consistent diet of extra large bananas (heavy in weight-mass protons), then I would say ... five pounds? Twenty pounds is a lot of pounds. In Lenny's defense, it's difficult to pose shirtless for a Beefcake poster when you're not adequately beefed up. From Wiki:

he even removed his shirt to pose for a "beefcake" poster under the "Nails" nickname.

What is a beefcake poster? Is that a thing? I will Google that later and get back to you. (I think they mean it literally -- he was shirtless under the headline "Nails" -- but I like how it reads that he posed "under the 'Nails' nickname," as if it was an alias to protect his true identity. I am going to pose for a Beefcake poster under the nickname "Mike" and see if anyone notices.) Anyway, upon seeing the new Super Lenny, fellow Wild Boy Wally Backman commented, "I'll have what HE'S having!" and then expounded upon the joke by stating it was from the new movie, When Wally Met Lenny. When no one laughed at that reference, he punched everybody in the face like a wild beast.

Steroids were just one of Dykstra's vices. In recent months and years, everybody has piled on ol' Lenny, and rightly so because, man -- he does NOT come across well in every single thing that has been written or said about him of late, and also he is in jail. But if Lenny Dykstra the person is very flawed, let us then focus on Lenny Dykstra the player, who, although he kind of sort of cheated, was really good at playing baseball. It may have been the only thing he didn't fake.

'Sup

Harold Reynolds, 1989 Topps

'Sup girl.

Me? Just hanging out by this fence, takin' it all in, letting the sun wash over me. What camera? Pfft. Didn't even notice it. Yo man, get outta here with that mess! For real ... a baller can't even smile handsomely along a fence these days without some paparazzo trying to snap a pic. It's crazy out here in the 8-9.

So whatchu drinkin' on? Oh yeah? I like that, I like that. So yo, check for me later. I'll be out in the field. I'll be the one with the golden glove, so don't let it blind ya', okay? Alriiiiight.

Oh, and they call me H.R. But somethin' tells me you already knew that. Winks. Holla.

Charlie and the Canadian Mask Factory

Charlie O'Brien, 1989 Topps

If I were to tell you that Charlie O’Brien, the person you see here, revolutionized the game of baseball, would you believe me? Well, you should, because it’s true.

But how, you ask? Here are some excellent guesses made by no one in particular, and I will examine which guess is correct. Feel free to play at home!

Did Charlie O’Brien change the game of baseball by …

 … being the first person to wear a helmet with zero earflaps?

Unfortunately, no. Many players before Charlie O’Brien sported the earflapless helmet. However, it should be noted that, via this very card, O’Brien brought the earflapless helmet controversy to the forefront. Suddenly, people were like, “Geez, that thing looks stupid. A gust of wind could knock that off his head, which doesn’t bode well for the prospects of a 90-mph fastball to the dome. I want to take that thing off his head and put a scoop of ice cream in it. Mommy, there’s a curly red hair in my ice cream! Ha, ha. Word.” That is exactly the thing many people were saying. Anyway, after Thomas Edison viewed this card, he got the idea to invent earflaps. The rest is history.

(Hint: That said, don’t dismiss the theme of protecting the face area. I’ve said too much.)

… inventing the burdensome, seemingly very hot, garbage-bag-type, long-sleeve baseball undershirt?

Another great guess, but … no. Few people appeared to be as comfortable in this undergarment as O’Brien, but he was not the first to wear it. Many players in the mid-to-late 80s wore the burdensome, crinkly, underbag, and a few even lived to tell about it. The others died of heat exhaustion. O’Brien himself was once quoted as saying, “It’s great! It really allows me to slow down my swing, because I can’t move my arms. And the noise it makes while doing anything really blocks out the jeers of the crowd when we’re on the road. I’ve lost 80 lbs!” The underbag was the brainchild of Jorge Costanza, and eventually led to Under Armor. The differences between the underbag and the modern Under Armor shirt are virtually indistinguishable.

… being the first catcher with a red, curly mullet to pose while wearing an earflapless helmet and a garbage bag underneath this jersey?

Maybe. I did not know how to look that up.

… inventing the All-Star MVP, the first hockey-style catcher’s mask?

Ding, ding, ding! You are correct! Granted, there was no possible way of knowing that simply by looking at this picture, or by possessing common knowledge. Nevertheless! According to Wiki:

After getting hit in his mask by two consecutive foul-tip balls in a game, O'Brien had the idea for a new catcher's mask while he was watching a hockey game. He worked with Van Velden Mask Inc., of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, to develop his idea. The new design, called the All-Star MVP, was approved in 1996 by Major League Baseball.

Before the All-Star MVP, catchers wore a mask with one bar across the front, like the old NFL punters. So this was a big deal for catchers’ faces. I, by the way, am also inspired by great ideas while watching hockey. For example, I frequently get the idea to change the channel. Jk! Hockey joke, not meant to be offensive! Everybody relax!

So O’Brien won a title with the ’95 Braves, hit 56 career ding-dongs, and helped entire generations of future catchers protect their dome pieces. Not too shabby. Here is a picture of Charlie O’Brien not wearing a helmet and protecting himself against the onslaught of a New York Italian person. Have a great day, everyone!

Cardboard Fenway: 1989 Fleer Jim Rice

Cardboard Fenway - #2. 1989 Fleer Jim Rice 

I love how Rice's bat just ends.

Rick Mahorn and The Myrrdin Merlins

Why didn't I think of this earlier?
Look for more animated card art on The Baseball Card Blog,
as soon as I figure out which cards would be cool to use.

Also, why hasn't anyone done this yet?

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 7

Contrary to what Donruss would want you to believe, Fred McGriff never won an MVP award. Did he ever deserve one? No, probably not.

But so what? Teams need players like McGriff to be successful. In a similar vein, someone recently said that teams wouldn't win with a whole roster of Dustin Pedroias. Why not? The guy has over 200 hits, 100 runs, he hits for average, he's a good fielder... what's not to like? Is it because he's short? Scrappy? Prematurely bald? Is it because he does that weird thing with his mouth and eyes before every swing? The same could be said for Fred McGriff. Could a team win with a roster of Fred McGriffs? Who wouldn't want a bunch of guys consistently smacking 35 homers, driving in runs and hitting for average?

Though until recently Pedroia had been putting together an MVP-like season, guys like Pedroia and McGriff aren't really MVP-caliber players. They're complementary guys. They're guys who make a lineup formidable. And though they're not a given lineup's heavy hitter, they're guys pitchers don't want to face in any situation.

They're like Thursday night. It's not quite Friday, but you're almost there.

More Miscuts

A few weeks ago, Reader Scott sent me a great big stack of blank-fronts, blank-backs, wrong-backs, misprints, and miscuts. To celebrate, I've put them with my other screwups in a binder.

The most interesting thing, besides the sheer quantity of screwups Scott sent, is that the blank-fronts he sent were broken down like so: 22 from 1989 Topps; 19 from 1990 Topps; and 14 from 1991 Topps. OK, that's a lot from each of those years. But here's where it gets crazy and leads me to put out a somewhat far-fetched conspiracy theory: the checklist numbers of the cards are grouped. For instance, here are the card numbers for the 1989 group:

237
246
681
685
686
690
691
692
694
697
702
703
716
717
718
722
723
757
783
788
789
792

So, that's like four separate checklist groups (and yes, I think it's awesome that #792 was included in the stack). And the same sort of breakdown is true for the 1990 and 1991 groups, respectively. It leads me to believe that there was at least one entire set from 1989, 1990, and 1991 (if not other years as well) printed as blank-fronts.

In other miscut news: I've been going through boxes, putting together the 1976 set (still need about 150 cards), and in the stacks of commons I've found miscut wrong-backs: Dick Drago (Wilbur Howard/Dave Parker) and Bill North (Father/Son Hegan/Father/Son Smalley).

Also, I offer no explanation on the double-prints, except to say that they may be the coolest cards I've ever seen. And yes, they're blank-backed.

Thanks Scott, you've totally made my year!

Stuff to Read & Monitor

To read

• Head over to Slate.com to read Darren Rovell's piece on the glory that is the '89 Upper Deck Ken Griffey.

• Start reading Sportscards Uncensored if you don't already. The writer has a voice that should definitely be heard. Also, as the title suggests, he likes to swear. A lot.

• Read Adam McFarland's Sports Lizard Rant. He's much more eloquent than I'll ever hope to be.


To monitor

• The general consensus is that Toppstown is going to be stupid. But let me say this: if and when I start buying Topps Series 2, I'm going to start entering codes, if only to see if I can find the secret hatch that makes the thing disappear. (By the way, if Toppstown is a hit, that probably means The Upper Deck ain't too far behind. Also, an enterprising card blogger would get him or herself in there on the ground floor and start the Toppstown alternative weekly. Call it something like The Michigan Test-Wax Tribune and I might have my anthropomorphic baseball cards read it.)

Question from Reader

Reader Grant sent in this question earlier today via email. If you can help him out, leave a comment to this post.

"I'm searching for an answer to a bit of baseball card mystery. I have a set of the 1989 Donruss Baseball's Best. The whole set itself is not factory sealed anymore but each individual pack of cards in the set is still sealed.

I noticed something some time ago that I've not seen before with this set and I have seen a few of these sets over the years. The pack that has the Gary Sheffield showing on top, also has Gary Sheffield on the bottom of the pack, showing the back of the card.

Naturally, I can't help but wonder: Is the whole pack full of nothing but Gary Sheffield cards? I've been looking and looking and have not seen another one like it nor have I found anyone else that has seen that. So, that is my question: Do you know anything about this or have you seen anything similar with this set? So far I've resisted the urge to open the pack but man is it tough. Any suggestions?"

If you don't feel comfortable leaving a comment, email me and I'll make sure your answer gets to Grant.

Life is Just One Big Warren Spahn Puzzle

I’ve wracked my brain for just about the worst card you could prepare yourself for when you opened a pack. Let’s face it, if you were like me when you were a kid, all of your money was going towards cards, but if you weren’t—and I can say that I envy you, but I don’t know if I really believe myself when I say that—and you were only buying one or two packs just to remind yourself you were a little kid and this was what little kids (or pimply teenagers without a girlfriend or any semblance of a life, for that matter) were supposed to buy and be interested in (and could afford to buy, besides Garbage Pail Kids and candy (and yes this would be right around the time your best friend got Super Mario 3 and you couldn’t go over to his house every day)), you’d probably be mega-pissed if you got a crap card in your pack. How much did packs cost? 1986 Topps cost 35 cents a pack, Donruss and Fleer more so, 1987 Topps went up to 40 cents a pack (but you got 17 cards a pack) and it just went up from there…until now you can’t buy a pack under a buck or even two (but that’s a different gripe).

So while I’m mostly writing this entry as a starter for an open forum, I have a few obvious suggestions and one strong suggestion for what the worst card you could pull would be.

1. Juan Samuel, Phillies (any year): Here was a guy whom Topps ‘honored’ as an All-Star in 1988 (this year has arguably the most-awesome design for the All-Star card during the 1980s). Okay, so he did have a great 1987, with 100 RBI and over 25 homers for a pretty crap Phillies team. But no one would be happy to pull a Juan Samuel card, let alone his All-Star card. Here were your Topps All-Star second basemen in the Eighties. American League:1982 gave us Willie Randolph, 83 Bobby Grich, 84 Sweet Lou Whitaker, 85 & 86 Damaso Garcia, 87 Tony Bernazard, 88 Randolph again, and 89 Julio ‘Never Gonna Die’ Franco. I wouldn’t be too happy pulling any of those guys, especially the immortals Garcia and Bernazard, though I think Bernazard is active in the Players Union now (actually, I’m not really sure about that, but I like to think he has a desk with a nameplate and a wall of plaques, including one reading ‘The Topps Chewing Gum Company would like to congratulate Tony Bernazard on being named to said Company’s entirely arbitrarily-chosen 1988 All-Star team. Way to go, Tony.’ National League: 1982 Davey Lopes, 83 Manny Trillo, 84 Johnny Ray, 85 Ryne Sandberg, 86 Tommy Herr, 87 Steve Sax, 88 Juan Samuel, and 89 Sandberg once more. Are you kidding me? They should have just given it to Sandberg every year. It would’ve saved thousands of kids from becoming inconsolable after spotting a 2B All-Star, only to realize it was Tommy fuckin’ Herr, or Johnny Ray, Manny Trillo, Steve Sax, take your pick…no one’s going to remember those guys, and All-Star status lasts forever.

2. Bill Doran, Astros, 1986: The idea of the ‘Common’ is one that deserves its own dissertation, but the idea of the faceless common is entirely different, and deserves a short paragraph. Julio Cruz played a forgettable career, recording every year on a forgettable card. Read the back of his card presented here. ‘Julio can dunk basketball from standing start.’ Do you understand the implications of something like this? Julio Cruz is listed at 5’ 9”. And he can dunk from a standing start? Does that mean he has a vertical leap of almost 5 feet? Is that for real? I really want to meet him and make him dunk a basketball. But Bill Doran? There’s nothing great about his career, nothing great about how he spends his leisure time, and worst of all, his photos aren’t interesting. Just a faceless common Topps needed to fill the 792 card quota. Faceless commons present a very strong case as being the worst cards to pull.

3. Doubles. In the same pack. Get a double in a pack sucks, unless it’s of a very good player, but the odds of that would probably be very slim because of print runs, et cetera. Somehow I remember ending up with tons of Lance McCullers, Padres in the 1989 Topps set, (and I just opened two 1989 Donruss packs just now and got a Mark Lemke in each pack…Donruss might as well as just’ve made the puzzle that year Mark Lemke, which leads me to…)

4. The Boring Puzzle Piece, any year, Donruss: unless you got the face or the logo or bat or something, there was nothing fun about the Donruss Puzzle. It was just wasted space.

I leave the rest of this thought to you. What’s the worst card to pull?

Of Gant and Van Slyke and All That's Forgotten

In the late 1980s, the Atlanta Braves were the worst team to watch on TV. Hapless is the most accurate word; a roster consisting of Dale Murphy and not really much else. I forget when Darrell Evans was on the Braves…he kind of looked like Warwick Davis, didn’t he? Or am I just imagining that they were separated at birth? Anyway, by the time 1988 rolled around, getting an Atlanta Brave in your pack of 1987 Donruss (when you were 8 years old and trying to rationalize paying almost $1.00 per pack…and you could just forget about collecting the über-cool blue Fleer) was just about the most disappointing thing you could get, except maybe a double puzzle piece from the Clemente puzzle…or a Padre Diamond King that wasn’t Tony Gwynn.

So by the time 1988 rolled around, the Braves were still hopeless, but their cards were getting better. Tom Glavine, from Billerica, Massachusetts (pronounced Birr-rica, explain THAT one), just down the Pike from me, looked like he was maybe 14 years old, and speaking of separated at birth, Glavine kind of looked like one of those stress squeeze toys where the red eyes pop out, didn’t he? If you squint real hard, you can make it out…he also kind of looked like Mr. Bill, the claymation guy on SNL who was always getting killed…just like the Braves.

They had Glavine, they had Steve Avery in his immortal 1989 Topps card, the card you would trade your George Brett double for (right up there with the Jim Abbott draft pick card from the same set and the Bo Jackson football/baseball 1990 Score special card), and Ron Gant, the guy whom Kent Hrbek picked up off first base in the 1991 World Series and got called out. I swear, speaking of separated at birth (I’m serious about this one too) and the 1991 World Series, Jack Morris kind of looked like The Edge from U2 (in his later handlebar mustache years).

Ron Gant was awesome. It seems people forget that today. A lot of guys who were totally awesome but not necessarily Hall of Fame caliber just seem to fade away (Terry Pendleton and Andy Van Slyke are two names that come to mind) when really they should be carried around on the shoulders of offensive linemen like Vince Lombardi or the Big Tuna, because a) that would be interesting to watch and b) because Pendleton and Van Slyke are probably not going to make the Hall and people won’t remember them as solid All-Star players. They’ll remember them for being fantastic for only a few seasons, and think that they could’ve been fantastic for many years. In reality, Pendleton sucked when he was on the Cardinals. And Van Slyke wasn’t appreciated very much when he was on the Cardinals either (I think Pendleton was on the World Series team from 1987, along with the incomparable Jack Clark and Joe Magrane. Didn’t Clark declare bankruptcy a few years ago? And what happened to Joe Magrane? He faded about as fast as Jim Deshaies, didn’t he?).

Right around Opening Day 1987 (on my birthday no less), Van Slyke was traded along with Spanky LaValliere and Mike Dunne (who I could’ve sworn was going to be a big-time pitcher on those contending Pirate teams of the early 1990s) to the Pirates for Tony Pena. Looking back on it, it’s still a great trade. The Cardinals got a starting catcher, but the Pirates got a starting catcher, an up-and-coming pitcher and a deadweight outfielder who never hit over .270 and never hit more than 15 home runs. What a steal.

Ron Gant had a fantastic career cut short by injuries. Even when he resurfaced with the Phillies and Reds, you knew he was still dangerous at the plate. Van Slyke was unstoppable on those Bonds/Bonilla/Drabek/Leyland teams and Pendleton was great in 1991 in his own right (I think he won the batting title with a ridiculously low average just over .300 or something).

There are literally billions of baseball cards made in the early 1990s, when card companies figured out just how many of us were collecting and then overcompensated by about 2 billion cards. You’d think more little boys who grew up into offensive linemen would remember just how great Andy Van Slyke and Ron Gant were and would track the two of them down and carry them around a few days a week. It would make someone like me feel better about the world.