Updated Food for Thought: Hot Stove Edition

A few baseball-card-related thoughts as we approach winter...

If Jon Lester signs with a team other than the Athletics—which is how it seems things will shake out—does that mean we'll never see a card of Lester in an A's uniform? This probably happens a lot, but the two players who come to mind are Reggie Jackson (Orioles) and Don Baylor (Athletics), both in 1976. Another guy who could fit this bill is Yoenis Cespedes, the slugging outfielder the Red Sox obtained in exchange for Lester. The Sox have a logjam in the outfield and the feeling is that Cespedes walks after next year.

This also brings up an interesting take on the purpose of end-of-year series like Topps Update and Topps Heritage High Numbers. Topps Update is a showcase for All-Star cards, rookies, and guys who fell through the cracks in the regular set. Heritage High Numbers is chock full of rookies and other end-of-the-bench guys who didn't get cards in the regular series. Gone are the days when traded players get cards of them in their new uniforms. Were it up to me, High Numbers and Update would be a more traditional mix of rookies and traded players. This would solve the problem of guys like Lester, Cespedes, and Nelson Cruz (whose year on the Orioles probably won't be recognized in 2015 Topps Heritage)...

...An insert set that didn't seem to hold its value is the mini set in 2014 Topps Heritage. Despite being the case hit and each card being numbered to just 100, eBay prices have fallen in the last few weeks. All of this is good news for me, as I now have 47 of the 100 subjects...

...Is Topps's design for 2015 a subtle homage to 1990's design? It'll be the 25th anniversary of that set, which could mean a possible "no-name" error, right?...

...I promise this is the last Heritage item I'll bring up for now: I've decided that the ultimate card from the Heritage set is the Maury Wills Real One autograph card. For one thing, Wills is shown as a member of the Dodgers. Secondly, he wasn't included in the 1965 Topps set, so—barring custom cards—this is as close as you're going to get to a 1965 Topps Maury Wills card. 

...Are there great card blogs still out there? From what I've read recently, collectors are more interested in posting images of their "hitz" on Twitter than talking about the bigger picture in the hobby. Is that how others see it?

Finally, I almost forgot. Remember my post in November 2013 about the future of price guides? (Read Average Real Pricing: The Future of The Price Guide.) Well, if you subscribe to Beckett's online price guide, it looks like they incorporated something like average real pricing into their tiered offerings. They're calling it the Beckett Online Price Guide Plus (very original). If it's anything like my idea for average real pricing, this is a step in the right direction. Hey Beckett, you're welcome.

School lesson: wins

Fleer cameraman: Okay Mikey baby, take a deep breath, and just relax.

Mike Schooler: OKAY HOW’S THIS
 

Fleer cameraman: Kinda looks like you’re holding in a fart. Exhale, okay?

Mike Schooler: HOW ‘BOUT THIS ONE

Fleer cameraman: I just … why are you wearing a batting glove?

Mike Schooler: WAS TAKING BP WITH THE FELLAS WHEN YOU SAID IT WAS MY TURN, HIT TWO OUT OF THE INFIELD TODAY, NEW RECORD

Fleer cameraman: (gives up, takes picture)

Mike Schooler: I NEED 10 WALLET-SIZE FOR NANA

Mike Schooler looks like a gym teacher. He should change his name to Jim Schooler LOL.

Mike Schooler, 1990 Fleer

DID YOU KNOW? Tied for 3^rd in AL in saves (33) and seventh in appearances …

To answer your question, no – I did not know that Mike Schooler ranked seventh among AL relief pitchers in appearances during {year not mentioned}. I hope this newfound information has pushed something less important out of my brain.

Tied for Mariners’ lead in ERA despite 1-7 record …

That’s weird. Wins are typically the best indicator of pitcher performance. Wikipedia, what say you?

On March 22, 1993 he was signed as a free agent by the Texas Rangers but was released on September 11 after going 3-0 with a 5.55 ERA in 17 games.

HE WAS UNDEFEATED! Surely another team picked up Mike Schooler immediately and he helped that team win the World Series, and when he was presented with the World Series MVP trophy by Bob Costas, he raised it high into the air and said into the microphone, “This is for the Texas Rangers, who thought it was cool to release an undefeated pitcher. Guess what? You just got SCHOOLER-ED!”

That’s what happened, right?

He has been a gym teacher at Richardson Middle School, and Calle Mayor Middle School in Torrance California. He is now the gym teacher at Ladera Ranch Middle School in Ladera Ranch, California.

We kid ‘round here, but for reals? Being a big leaguer with a season of 33 saves and a 3.61 SO/BB ratio under the ol’ belt, and then getting a gig teaching Phys Ed to kids all day was pretty much what I wanted to be when I grew up. Instead I am an unpaid blogger. All hail, #JimSchooler.

Confarnit

Zane Smith, 1990 Topps

SMELLIN' LIKE SOME SULFER JUST HAD SOME DIARRHEA OUT HERE. WHAT THE HAY? PEOPLE BE FARTIN' LIKE IT'S NOTHING THINKIN' THE SWEET SMELLS OF SPRING'LL COVER IT UP. AIN'T THE CASE. THEMS OPEN-AIR FARTS ARE BAD CAUSE PEOPLE BE THINKIN' THEY GOT CARTE BLANCHE TO DO 'EM. FART BLANCH. THAT'S MY JOKE I SAY TO PEOPLE. RECKON' MY WHO FARTED FACE BE RIVALIN' THAT OF M'GOOD BUD JOE JOHNSON. SOLID FELLA BUT MOODIER THAN A SONOFABITCH. AIN'T SEEN M'HAT IN SIX DAYS BUT WHOSE A' COUNTIN? SOME ROOK'S PLAYING A PRANK, BUT I'LL GIT 'EM WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT. PROLLY THE SAME PRANKSTER WHO CROP DUSTED O'ER HERE. I'LL DROP A TURD IN HIS LOCKER COME AUGUST. THAT'LL LEARN 'EM. WHATCHA'LL LILLY-LICKERS BE THINKING 'BOUT OUR NORTH AMERICAN NEIGHBORS UP YONDER? AIN'T NEVER LIVED IN NO PLACE OTHER THAN THE GOOD OL' U S OF A, AND DON'T WANT NOBODY QUESTIONIN' MY ALLEGIANCES! JUST TRYING TO FIND A GOOD PLACE TO REST M'HEAD AND A SPOT WITH SOME HOMEMADE PULLED PORK SANGWICHES. WHAT'S THE NATIONAL BIRD? I SHOULD FIND OUT PRONTO TO BLEND IN. WHO'S STARTIN' TODAY, MCDOOGLE? IS THERE A MCDOOGLE ON THIS TEAM? NO? COMMON NAME WHERE I COME FROM. FRANCIS MCDOOGLE USED TO FIX HVACS IN M'HOMETOWN. BEFORE THE PLAGUE HIT THAT IS. NOW HE SPEAKS WITH A STUTTER AND FIXES NOTHIN' BUT SANGWICHES. CAN'T SEE BUT TWENTY YARDS OUT HERE WITHOUT M'SUNGLASSES. BRIGHTER THAN M'GIRL'S SMILE TODAY. WHAT ARE THEM FELLAS DOING OVER THERE? PROLLY LAYING SOME FARTS AND HOOTIN' AND HOLLERIN' 'BOUT IT LIKE SOME DUMB KIDS. RECKON I BETTER GO FIND OUT. CONFARNIT ONE OF THEM'S GOT M'HAT. YEP THEY FARTED IN IT. I'LL BE A MONKEY'S UNCLE.

The Candy Trade

In 1989 John Candelaria began the year as a Yankee but then got traded to the Expos. Then sometime in the offseason, I guess, he signed with the Twins? If you happened to have a 1989 John Candelaria baseball card, you were probably like, "What the hell, bro? I can't keep up with all this." (You were probably not like though that because: who cares.)

In stepped Topps Traded. Say something happened like Scooter McSo-and-so got called up to the bigs, or some second baseman had a sex change operation and switched to third, or whatever with John Candelaria. Topps Traded would document those things in card form so that future scientists would know they really happened. Then, if you were a kid with like no money, you could buy this extra set and have all your wildest dreams come true.

Besides the up-to-the-nanosecond-three month accuracy, Topps Traded was also brighter than the regular year's stupid set. Because they only had to produce cards that reflected changes, Topps could afford to splurge on quality as it related to brightness. "You need to wear sunglasses when you look at these cards because the past is looking bright," is what a lot of people would say at the time. And was that brightness ever so beautiful! For example, check this out yourself before you wreck yourself:

               John Candelaria, 1990 Topps Traded

The brightness of the back of this card is exceeded only by the brightness of John Candelaria's smile on the front. I remember having this card and condescendingly asking my friends to see their John Candelaria '89 cards where he's on the Yankees. I'd be like, "Pfft. You know he switched teams, right? TWICE. Nice outdated card, brah. Look at outdated cards much? Also, this card is so dark. Did you pay for this?"

So yeah, not bragging or anything, but by 1990, thanks to my Topps Traded set, I had all my John Candelaria ducks in a row. Then he got traded to the Blue Jays and by '91 he was on the Dodgers? What the hell, bro? I can't keep up with all this.

57*

 

Cecil Fielder, 1990 Upper Deck

The thing I remember most about Cecil Fielder's 1990 season is this card. Not that I think about Cecil Fielder's 1990 season a lot, or at all, but sometimes, when I do - like when I'm posting this card to this blog and need an introductory paragraph - I immediately think of this card.

The main reason I think of this card is because the 1 in 51 looks SO MUCH like a 7 to me. Every time I look at this card, which is almost never, but DOES include now, I think, "Wait, did he hit 51 home runs or 57? I feel like it would have been a huge deal if it were 57 because that is very close to 61. But I don't remember it being such a huge deal. I know I could go online right now or just flip this card over, but it bothers me that I have already spent so much time wondering about this. I was supposed to be at work an hour ago. Wait, was I? What day is it?"

Obviously, artist V. Wells did a fantastic job here - the action and posed montage is splendid and an obvious nod to some of Monet's* finest work. I do, however, feel as though the number is the centerpiece, and in that regard at least some level of failure is at play here. The major point this card is trying make - Cecil Fielder hit THIS MANY home runs - is not clear to me. Maybe if the racing stripes were going the other way?

Honestly though, is it me? Am I only the only one who thinks this looks much more like 57 than 51? It's possible I'm over-thinking this.

In my quest to obtain multiple sources citing 51, I did venture on to Fielder's baseball-reference page. I noticed he is listed there at 230 lbs. That literally seems 100 pounds less than I remember him being. Every recollection I have of Cecil Fielder seems conflicted and warped. All I know for sure these days is that his son Prince Amukamara also plays sports and doesn't eat vegetables.

Pretty neat that Fielder's 50th and 51st home runs came on the season's final day. Also he hit six more home runs, giving him eight, which is a record.

The last three games for the Tigers were in New York. Fielder went 0-for-8 in the first two games of the series and it looked as if the 49 jinx might stop him.

I recall nothing about a 49 jinx, but the 49 jinx seems comical in retrospect. Forty-nine was the average number of home runs hit by each player in the years 1998 - 2003. Hey, remember when Richie Sexson hit 45 home runs TWICE? What the farts happened there? Richie Sexon's middle name is Lockwood, by the way. I am learning a lot today, on the Internet.

Finally, Fielder hit a Steve Adkins fastball that reached the "Upper Deck" and made history.

I like what Upper Deck did there. Brought it back to them because they are the focus here. I wonder if they would have paid the $6 million to commission this artist's rendering if Fielder's 50th home run had barely cleared the outfield wall, hitting the Topps of it.

*Monet is the only famous artist that came to mind. I assume he also did baseball player montages.

Dag

Randy McCament, 1990 Upper Deck

Daaaaaaaaaag, girl! Whatchu doin' all on the field like that? Baby girl, doncha know you're gonna get hurt out there! Walkin' around with them clothes on, actin' like you don't know what you're doing. You know, girl. You know. Pfft, I don't know what you're talking to HIM for ... must be a job requirement or somethin'. Why don't you come over here and holla at a REAL playa? I'll tell you what it's like to run out there in the seventh, runners on the corners, two outs, down by eight, crowd going crazy. Ain't too many that can handle that type of pressure, ya' know? You like that, baby? That impresses you? C'mere, lean in closer, I got another story for you ... starts french kissing back of hand ...

Roger Craig, Mngr: MCCAMENT!

Dag! What? I was just ... uh ... biting my cuticles or whatever ...

Craig: Stop slobbering all over yourself and get out there and stretch, will ya'!

Yeah, yeah, that's cool. That'll give me a chance to close this deal ...

What's up witchu?

No response.

That's cool, that's cool. Name's McCament, but you probably already knew that. No. 15 selection in June '85 draft. Led California League in saves with 19 while playing for Fresno in '86, no big deal. Should pretty much be a starter 'round here but, ya' know ... politics. Now I'm just cleaning up everyone's mess, like that guy over there. Points to John Burkett.

Burkett: Screw you, McCament.

We joke around here, bust each other's balls, ya' know? Guy stuff, no worries. Anyway, so uh ... where you taking that foxy body of yours after the game? Probably somewhere classy I bet, like a hotel bar. You mind if I tag along, buy you a spritzer? If you play your cards right, that is ...

Walks away.

That's cool, that's cool. I like this little game of cat and mouse. I mean, I wish you didn't have to go, but I sure don't mind watching ...

Craig: MCCAMENT!

Dag, what?

Craig: We're not posing for glamor shots around here! Stretch your groin unless you want to pull it sitting on the bench like last week ...

Rest of team laughs.

Dag, I TOLD you I pulled it having sex with like, four ladies at the same time. Pfft, whatever.

The Fred Manrique Story (short version)

Fred Manrique, 1990 Topps

Many people don't know this, but this is not Fred Manrique. This is Fred Armisen playing Fred Manrique in the Lifetime original movie, "The Fred Manrique Story: Well-Traveled and Playing Deep ... With Murder." It was sort of a dramedy. In the end though, he IS responsible for the murder. Oh, SPOILER.

According to Wikipedia:

The well-traveled Manrique was a solid second baseman with good range and a strong throwing arm that allowed him to play deep and steal hits.

I would like to mention that "hits" is embedded, in case -- while you are looking up baseball players on Wikipedia -- you realize you don't know what hits are and so you would like to click on it and see how Wikipedia defines hits. In fact, I'll wait while you do that ...








Hit (baseball)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
In baseball statistics, a hit (denoted by H), also called a base hit, is credited to a batter when the batter safely reaches first base after hitting the ball into fair territory, without the benefit of an error or a fielder's choice.








Countless times, Manrique's teammates thought he was playing too deep. They would shout, "Get off the grass, Manrique!" but Manrique wouldn't think anything of it because he was high as a mo fo (he's from Venezuela). Then the opposing team would hit the ball and Manrique would catch it and throw it to first base with his rocket arm, getting the runner out to the surprise of all and stealing a potential hit (see above).

Fred Manrique's full name is Fred Eloy Manrique Reyes. In some circles he was known as Eloy Reyes, like when he checked into hotels. Ya' know, because of the murder. That is all.

MAD Flopps - 2nd Series

I was going through a stack of old magazines this evening. These were on the back of a copy of MAD from 1990. It was pretty beat-up, and one of the squares was torn and ruined. Here are the other eight...

Ron Swanson Kittle

Ron Kittle, 1990 Topps

Here is a picture card of Ron Kittle looking off into the distance, thinking to himself, “I bet I could make a bench out of that.” That joke will make sense later. For now, to the back:

At Edmonton in 1982 Ron recorded some of the most impressive statistics in recent memory.

I didn’t know baseball cards had memories, but I am nevertheless very excited!

He led PCL with 50 homers, 144 RBI and .729 Slugging Percentage.

I am not sure of the details of PCL, for example, how many games they play per season and if they use adult human pitchers. It’s possible this information is available somewhere online, but … whatever. The point is that, regardless of league specifics, those statistics have lived up to their reputation, and that’s saying a lot considering my own memory has lived through the steroid era.

Kittle followed up that minor league campaign by winning AL Rookie of the Year in 1983. But you already knew that, maybe. What you’re probably asking yourself is, “What has Ron Kittle been up to these days? Has he ever posed for a picture on a motorcycle while dressed like a tiger?” Those are excellent questions. Many of the answers can be found on his website.

From what I can gather, Ron Kittle’s primary current interest is making benches out of baseball material, like bats and bases. According to Wikipedia, Kittle was a steelworker before he made it to the bigs. Now he makes his own benches. He seems to me like a real life Ron Swanson, which is the highest compliment I can dole out. The career path of steelworker > major leaguer with home run power > makes furniture by hand is one that I can easily relate to, as I played Little League and once almost successfully installed a doorknob.

I am unsure how comfortable the benches may feel on the ol’ back, but they are pretty cool and are definitely a conversation piece. It’s not like you’re going to sit on one of these benches and not talk about baseball, and I am always down for talking about baseball. I ain’t hatin’ on someone’s enterprise. You go, Ron Kittle.

But that’s not all. Kittle is also a motivational speaker. The motivational speaking link on his website features, to answer your previous question, a picture of him dressed as a tiger on a motorcycle. I am unsure if that’s how he arrives to each motivational speaking gig, but if so, I’ll tell you what—he’s already got my attention.

One of the motivational topics listed is, “How to look people straight in the eyes and shake their hands firmly.” I don’t know how much deeper Kittle can go on this topic …

Okay, the next topic today is, “How to look people straight in the eyes and shake their hands firmly.” Now, what I would recommend is this: Look people straight in the eyes, with your eyes, and shake their hands firmly, like this (shakes own hand). You can’t tell, because you’re in the audience, but believe me this is a firm handshake. Now I know I mean business. Okay, the next topic is …

My dad has always maintained that he can judge a man based solely on his handshake. So, if you have a flimsy handshake, that makes at least two people—former baseball player Ron Kittle and my dad—who think you’re a wuss.

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!

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 6

I never saw Fred McGriff play in person. And yet, here he is in Fenway Park circa 1989-1990. A friend of mine used to have tickets about 20 rows behind home plate and I remember going to a number of games around that time.

Nor did I ever really watch games that McGriff played in. My family, like everybody else who got cable, got all the Braves games on TBS. But that didn't mean I watched them. So then here's my question: Can I legitimately call McGriff my favorite player if I a) never saw him play in person and b) never made much of an effort to catch his games on TV? I think I'm safe.

McGriff fit what I was looking for in a baseball hero. To me, he was obscure. And if you know anything about my values system, obscurity ranks very high. Oh sure, he wasn't a face in the crowd to fans of the game. But ask a random person on the street who McGriff was and I'd bet nine out of ten wouldn't know. And yet, here's the funny thing: if McGriff had spent his career in a baseball mecca like Boston or New York, I'm completely convinced that his national presence would've rivaled that of Boggs, Mattingly or any other of his more famous contemporaries.

The One-Two Punch

1990 Score and 1991 Topps Stadium Club: it’s come down to these two sets and really neither of them is better than the other. In a perfect world I’d rank them 1 and 1a. But this isn’t a perfect world. People want order, they want debate. They want controversy. And I was ready to give you all of the above and name Score victorious, but then I really started to examine the situation.

I’ve decided that’s there no way Score wins this one. It’s a phenomenal set, no question about it. But is it the best representative for the early Nineties? More so than Stadium Club? No, it’s not. Here’s why.

1990 Score feels like it should have been released a year or two before it was. What I mean is, with its fun subsets (Dream Team, Highlights and those Draft Picks), the event cards scattered across the bloated checklist and the cheap packs, it felt more like a typical set from the late Eighties than a set from the early Nineties. Granted, it was released in 1990, but it followed those sets that came before, not setting precedents for those that followed it.

1991 Stadium Club, on the other hand, set the tone for the rest of the hobby for the rest of the decade. The plain and simple truth is that the early Nineties were about one thing and only one: the evolution of premium cards. And there is no better example than 1991 Stadium Club.

Let’s take a look at these sets, starting with 1990 Score. You don’t need me to tell you that the Bo Jackson football/baseball card was the biggest event card in a time when the hobby was completely awash with them. You also don’t need me to tell you that you probably had three or four of the Sandberg error, if you could remember what the error on the card was. Or how about Dream Team? Or Rookie Dream Team in the factory set? Or the fact that the Draft Picks subset was flat-out awesome, with rookies of Knoblauch, Ben McDonald, Mo Vaughn, Earl Cunningham (who?), Roger Salkeld and Frank Thomas. Or the fact that Thomas and Vaughn became stars after the others showed what they could do, which ensured the set with at least two rookie waves.

While this was technically Score’s third edition, it was really the set that put the company on the map. It had everything: enough superstars to clump at the beginning and spread throughout the remainder of the checklist, enough rookies to choke a horse, winning, inventive subsets and at least two Bo Jackson-related event cards (FB/BB and All Star Game). The cards featured a winning design, the packs were relatively cheap and Eric Lindros was in the Rookie/Traded set. ”He’s an unknown quantity right now because he’s so inexperienced,” said one scout. “But he has all the tools to make it big.”

What more could you want?

Like a handful of other sets from 1991, Stadium Club featured a Jeff Bagwell rookie (though no Chipper Jones or Mike Mussina). Unlike the others, though, the fate of the set did not rest on who was or was not included. That’s because unlike the other sets, the quality of Stadium Club was unbelievable. Full-bleed Kodak photography (Topps was smart to officially enlist Kodak; it gave the set a certain gravitas. Plus, if baseball card collectors are anything they’re brand-conscious to a tee), gold foil at a time when that simply wasn’t done, and Topps rookie cards on the backs.

The other thing that Stadium Club had going for it was that they were perceived to be scarce (though the validity of that perception was never determined). Packs were expensive. The cards were desirable. Nolan Ryan was shown in a tuxedo. I mean, c’mon. If the elder statesman was this excited about the set, comparison with Stadium Club’s contemporaries was completely unfair.

I’m not going to compare the two head to head. They excel in different ways. I will, however reiterate my main point: that while 1990 Score is a tremendous set, it belonged to the previous, pre-Upper Deck era of baseball cards (and were it released in the Eighties, it would rank in the top ten sets of the decade). Stadium Club, with its borderless photography, gold foil, perceived scarcity, Bagwell rookie and UV gloss, was a premium experience, one that exemplified the baseball card hobby in the early Nineties.

1. 1991 Topps Stadium Club
2. 1990 Score

End of story.


And of the 1990 – 1994 Countdown. It almost took a year, but now it’s done. If you’re looking for older Countdown reviews, in the next two weeks I plan on going back and tagging the rest of the relevant posts.

If you can't get enough early Nineties, head over to The Baseball Card Blog's sister site A Pack A Day, where the Cardboard Junkie will be live-blogging packs of both sets ranked here.

1990 – 1994 Countdown: #4. 1990 Leaf

Why are baseball cards made? I know I keep asking that question, but it’s important. I’ve been batting around different ideas, but the most realistic answer I’ve come up with is “Because it’s big business.” Name me another product that is tied to childhood, nostalgia and bonding with family and friends more than Topps Baseball Cards. I can think of only four: Coca-Cola, firecrackers, TV and Playboy Magazine. All are timeless products that have helped shape the American identity. “The first time I…” with each is a venerable rite of passage.

One side of business is branding, so obvious and important in the baseball card business (especially during a period such as the early Nineties, when there were scores of different products competing for dealers’ shelf space and collectors’ attention).

Another side is competing in the marketplace. For all intents and purposes, there was one manufacturer from 1956 to 1980. In 1981 that figure tripled to three and by 1989, with the introduction of giant killer Upper Deck, there were six. And though for those thirty-some-odd years it may have seemed like there was Topps and then there was everyone else in terms of market share, Topps’ response to competition (or lack thereof) helped the company slip in the standings. It got so bad for the company that it took them two years to respond to the biggest threat the company had yet to face: Upper Deck. In Topps’ defense, it was the worth the wait, as the inaugural 1991 Stadium Club release was a fantastic set, and Topps wasn’t alone in its delayed reaction. It also took Fleer two years to lob its response (1991 Ultra).

But by waiting two years to respond to the higher-quality standards of Upper Deck, Topps and Fleer were no longer responding to just one company, they were jumping on the bandwagon of a hobby trend: premium cards.

Born out of 1989’s Upper Deck (and possibly even 1988’s Score set), premium cards were printed on higher-quality stock, with better photography, brighter colors and more bells and whistles, most noticeably the heavy use of metallic ink. To ensure their desirability, manufacturers released them in a more limited quantity (or that was the idea). As such, they could charge dealers more per case, dealers would pass on the price increase to the collector and the value of individual cards would skyrocket. Add in the big ball of hype surrounding the hobby at the time and it was a recipe for success.

The company that didn’t wait to see if premium would survive more than a year was Donruss. By repositioning their Leaf brand as a premium set, they ensured not only that theirs was the first Big Three (Topps, Fleer, Donruss) response to Upper Deck, but that the set would garner more attention within the hobby.

All this preparation could’ve backfired had the set been terrible. Luckily for Donruss (and collectors) it wasn’t. Far from it. If we pull back for a moment and look at the long-term values of the set and individual cards, the Sosa rookie is still within the $15 to $20 range, which is remarkable considering all the bad press he’s accumulated over the past five years. Unopened boxes still go for $30 - $60 each and it’s safe to say that the cards remain in demand.

Long-term card value is not the reason why I’ve ranked this set so high. Premium or no, this was a great set. The design wasn’t bad: there was a subtle futurism thing going on that included more than a healthy dollop of metallic ink. The photography was excellent. The cards were printed on clean, smooth white stock. And the checklist was stellar.

With big-name rookies (Thomas, Sosa, Olerud, Justice, Walker) and strong second-year guys (Griffey, Belle and Randy Johnson), Leaf was suddenly the coolest kid on the block. The Thomas rookie was at one point as big as Griffey’s iconic Upper Deck rookie from the year before and when Sammy Sosa became a household name in 1998, there was no bigger card of him than his Leaf rookie.

It wasn’t just the rookies and young guys that made this set desirable. Like with any popular card set, what’s old was suddenly new. Cards of veteran stars and other established players were desirable.

But perhaps the most telling statistic for the popularity of a given set is the price for individual commons. For context, you can probably get a common from 1990 Topps for two or three cents. For Leaf, expect to pay a dime per common. That’s five times the average rate for a Topps common from the same year. That difference is, in a word, sick. I think you have to go back to 1984 Donruss before you see a common price that’s even remotely in the same league. Seems like the initial decision to limit the quantity paid off.

Was it a good decision for Donruss to jump the gun on their response to Upper Deck? I think so. It was a strong set that whet collectors’ appetites not just for more Leaf, but more premium cards in general. And though our opinions differ of if it was good for long-term card quality, we all can agree it was good for business.

1990 - 1994 Countdown: #8. 1990 Donruss

By 1990, Donruss and the other baseball card companies were beginning to understand that their industry was in a very different place from as little as three years before. Following the initial across-the-board quality of Upper Deck, the others suddenly found their market shares smaller. In order to stay competitive, they had to find the intersection between maintaining a traditional set and adapting to the competition with bells and whistles.

From what I can tell, Donruss’ idea of “bells and whistles” was to go red. Eye-catching, hellfire, mid-life crisis, love-it-or-hate-it red. That’s not to say their strategy didn’t work. I, for one, was both shocked and pleased to see them shake their black and blue funk (every year’s design from 1985 to 1989 had either been black or blue). The new color, coupled with the risk-taking cursive signature player name on the front, helped the set stand out in the crowd.

They made two other significant changes from the previous year. First, they put together a fantastic checklist with Diamond Kings you wanted, an intriguing “insert set” (MVPs), kick-ass ‘King of Kings’ and ‘5,000 Ks’ Nolan Ryan cards and one of the strongest Rated Rookie classes in years. Second, they let the presses fly without bothering to hire proofreaders.

Obviously that claim isn’t true, but consider the circumstances: just a year before, one of their competitors (Fleer) grabbed endless headlines after one of its cards (Billy Ripken) featured an obscenity. In order to prolong the news (or simply because they didn’t know how best to handle the situation), Fleer corrected the card not once but four different times throughout the season, resulting in five available versions of the card and guaranteeing a hard-to-find, highly collectible product.

Granted, it’s hard to monitor quality on every single card of a set, but 1990 Donruss featured eight error cards, with two of those being high-profile Nolan Ryan cards and one coming in the insert set (Glavine for Smoltz). Makes you wonder about motive.

Like other strong Donruss sets, in order for it to be truly great there had to be rookie balance over the entire checklist. This was certainly the case for 1990. Donruss had a track record of including great Rated Rookies since Bill Madden put together the first on-card-denoted subset back in 1984, but ran into trouble sometimes when it came to seeding rookies into the rest of the checklist. No such problem in 1990. With eleven desirable Rated Rookies (the most since 1987), the set found balance with rookies of Sosa, Larry Walker, Bernie Williams, John Olerud, David Justice, John Wetteland and flameouts like Junior Felix, Dwight Smith and Jerome Walton.

Yes, the base set lacked a Frank Thomas rookie (and so did the boxed Best of AL and end of year Rookies sets), but in this instance (unlike with 1990 Bowman or Fleer) it didn’t matter. Bowman nor Fleer had Rated Rookies to divert the attention away from the glaring Thomas omission.

Regardless, despite its overall quality and the changes the company made for 1990, this set finds Donruss at a crossroads. Yes, it has a checklist with more than a few highlights. Yes, it has the company’s third foray into insert cards. And yes, it was done with an eye-catching palette. But with the introduction of Leaf as a premium brand, created to compete and out-do Upper Deck on its own level, 1990 was the first year Donruss was the other brand for the company.

You know, it’s funny, but some companies seem to be able to cope year to year; their releases make sense as a cohesive whole. On the surface, this seems to be the case with Donruss (at least in terms of design). But if we dig a little deeper and examine the sets they released from 1990 through 1992—the first three in their role as secondary brand—the company seemed to go a few steps forward in 1990 (clearly their best set of the early Nineties, and their best since 1987) and then two or three giant leaps backward the next two years (crap in ’91 and more of the same for ’92).

It’s as if Donruss simply didn’t know what to do with the brand now that it was number two. Two series? Full color fronts and backs? Save rookies for an insert set? Did anybody even notice? Or care? Despite creating a great set for 1990, it was the beginning of a sad period for the brand.

1990 - 1994 Countdown: #32 - 31

32. 1990 Upper Deck
If you were Upper Deck, how would you have followed the seminal 1989 set? With an equally revered set in terms of design, availability and checklist, or by capitalizing on the hype surrounding your somewhat limited 1989 production run with a flood of product?

I haven’t looked at Card Sharks since reading it last summer, so forgive me if I paraphrase. The gist of the situation was that because the 1989 set took almost the whole hobby by surprise, everybody and his brother wanted to get in on the ground floor for Upper Deck’s 1990 release. Upper Deck, understanding the situation, was smart because they required dealers to buy in way in advance, guaranteeing a wide distribution. Then, as dealers realized en masse that the 1990 product was kind of a dud—and that the hobby was flooded with massive amounts of the product—Upper Deck was already laughing its way to the bank.

Why was it a dud? A couple of reasons. First, it wasn’t 1989 Upper Deck. The inaugural set was impossible to follow; any set in its wake was going to suffer. Second, the player that 1990 UD should have put on card #1 (Frank Thomas) wasn’t even included in the set (he wouldn’t find his way onto an Upper Deck card until 1991). Third, the stock was flimsy and the design seemed weak in comparison to 1989. I say that it ‘seemed’ weak because it actually wasn’t, it was just minimal to a fault. Fourth, there were so many of these cards that the special-ness of the Upper Deck brand seemed to evaporate.

But even though it was a dud at the time, the cards survive well. Sure, the stock is flimsy, some of the rookies have fallen by the wayside, and the design is a little boring, but it’s not a bad follow-up, especially when you take the situation into account. It bears repeating: any set would have had a hard time playing successor to 1989 Upper Deck.


31. 1993 Donruss
After creating birdcage-lining sets with ballooned checklists in 1991 and 1992, Donruss did something peculiar in 1993: they released a nice set that was worthwhile to collect. (They also did something interesting that didn’t seem so at the time: they released a set of 792 cards, the number of cards Topps practically trademarked in the Eighties. Why 792? It broke down nicely to two 396-card series. Ironically, though it didn’t feel that way, it was Donruss’ largest base set ever.)

It’s almost as if they frantically yelled ‘Wait! Wait!’ in vain as the trucks left the printing plant in 1992. Lesser companies would’ve turned to drink and vice, and probably closed up shop. Donruss just went back to the drawing board and came up with a somewhat attractive design, a balanced checklist worth buying into for both series, and inserts that felt more like true inserts rather than glorified subsets.

They also breathed new life into the by-then stale Rated Rookie subset by spreading the cards out over the entire set, and paring down the amount of them to 34 (from 40 in 1991 and 44 in 1992). By doing this, Donruss no longer felt naked without the Diamond Kings as a base set subset. It also allowed the Rated Rookie to become more of an event card (see the David Nied RR on #792, the last card of the set).

In addition to all the improvements on the base set, 1993 Donruss should be characterized as the brand’s transition set. It was the first Donruss set since 1981 without a puzzle. And even though they had separated the Diamond Kings into their own insert set in 1992, 1993 saw the brand put a greater emphasis on inserts (seven sets in all). The rest of the Donruss Nineties would follow suit.

Top Topps: 10th Response

Reader Luqman thinks he can top Topps. I'll let him tell you about it.

"This one’s rougher than most due to my near total lack of image editing skills, but I think you get the idea. Obviously the text should gradually get larger from left to right on the team name bar, and vice versa on the player name bar, however to do that competently is well beyond my skill level.

A few design points:

1. Since this is base Topps, there is going to be foil somewhere, therefore the player name, position, and Topps logo are in “foil”.
2. In terms of general card design, I like white borders, large pictures, and a splash of color

In terms of grading the design, I think if someone competent worked on the text, this could be a solid Topps design similar to a mix of 1974 and 1980, but at this point it kind of looks more like a marginal improvement on 1990 Fleer."


Not thrilled with the thick white borders of 2008 Topps? Think you could do better if only given the chance. Boy are you in luck. Send me your design and I'll post it on the blog!

Card Sharks & Countdown: #65 to #62

Last night I finished reading Pete Williams’ Card Sharks, an excellent read. The book, currently enjoying a round of renewed attention thanks to Michael O’Keeffe and Teri Thompson’s The Card, is great not only because it confirms my personal thoughts on Upper Deck, but because it helps me appreciate how the other companies approached UD, both leading up to its debut in 1989 and how they reacted and played catch-up in the early Nineties. It’s especially poignant in regards to this latest Card Critic Countdown.

It’s also interesting to note that there aren’t very many written accounts of the history of the hobby, and certainly few from the collector’s point of view. Not to be too self-indulgent here, but I think the recent burst of collector-fueled blogs is exactly what this hobby needed. Finally the collector has a way to express his or her own history in the hobby, how they approach collecting, what they’ve taken away from it and where they see it heading.

Anyway, the book is a good litmus test to see how much of a diehard collector you are. If you can make it through this book and still be in love with collecting cards as much as you were before, despite all the crap that the Upper Deck executives pulled, and how under the guise of “making a better baseball card” they mostly just sucked the soul out of the hobby—then congratulations, you’re really in this to the bitter end.

One last thing not related to the current Countdown. Yesterday I bought a hobby box of 2007 Topps Series 2, and although I got almost every card except Daisuke Matsuzaka (which leads me to believe his card may be as hard to find as Griffey Jr. in packs of 1989 Donruss), it didn’t really bother me, as I got this unintentionally funny card of Fernando Rodney and Pudge Rodriguez. Rodney is really into it; it looks like he’s waiting for a smooch. Too bad Rodriguez is still in his mask and pads.



#65. 1990 Topps
Ah, good ol’ 1990 Topps. A jewel in the rough. Yeah…not really, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend. It’s actually pretty amazing that this set was as bad as it was. Think about it: draft picks cards, Nolan Ryan Hero Worship, a decent crop of All-Stars, good Turn Back The Clocks (especially the 1975 Freddie Lynn, perhaps setting the precedent for later Archives Best Years and other retired players sets where they turn four-headed rookies to one-headed rookies with ease and grace), various other subsets and of course, Ken Griffey Jr, poised on the dugout steps gazing up into the sky, hopeful for a long, achievement-filled career. It’s a set brimming over with optimism.

It even had a high-profile error card, back when Topps was in the error card business by mistake. A quantity of Frank Thomas’ draft pick card, already one of the best cards in the set, were printed without his name on the front. Prices on the secondary market went through the roof and have stayed high, even after almost eighteen years and despite problems with counterfeit error cards.

Unfortunately, in terms of design, when Topps shot for ‘computer-gradient cool’ it missed widely and instead delivered ‘patchwork puke.’ This was one ugly set. Actually, you could say that it set the bar for the decade in terms of ugly design. Any ugly set that followed had to be compared to 1990 Topps to put its ugliness in perspective.

I want to say that this set has aged gracefully, that today’s sense of fashion, design and sensibility have grown and changed enough to be able to accommodate for Topps’ hiccup. But I can’t, because while the world has progressed, this set is woefully stuck. Instead, here’s what I appreciate about 1990 Topps: the unreadable backs and the ill-advised 3-D front, not so much for what they are as for what they symbolize: these design choices sum up just how much Topps (and the rest of the non-Upper Deck companies) had riding on predicting Nineties pop culture and style better than Upper Deck. Thumbing through a stack of 1990 Topps is like staring the end of the Topps Dynasty in the face.

Once the Traded and inaugural Major League Debut sets came out, it all but confirmed what the regular set had established: Topps was on the brink of becoming just another card manufacturer.


#64. 1992 OPC Premier
It was a big deal when O-Pee-Chee came out with their Premier line in 1991. I remember paying over a dollar for packs of Premier in 1991. But 1992? There was no hype, no buzz, nothing surrounding the set. And the set itself was like a minor tweak of 1991. Historically, that shouldn’t have been a problem. 1982 and 1983 Donruss differed only slightly in their design. But it was a problem with 1992 OPC Premier.

The player name, the crux of the 1991 design that was at once so crisp and delicate, was suddenly large-print size in 1992. The photos themselves were also softer, the backs were portrait instead of landscape and there were more cards in the set. But the real difference was that it was something in 1991 for a set to have a full-color back, with a color headshot, especially since not everybody could afford Upper Deck and Stadium Club. By 1992, that novelty had worn off. Too bad O-Pee-Chee didn’t get the memo. Ultimately, this set needn’t have existed.

#63. 1994 Pacific
God, how I loathed this set. Bad photos, unreadable front type, stupid company logo, cards that stuck together, bad back design (complete with torn linen resumé paper bottoms). The only good thing was that it was half in Spanish. Everything should’ve been in Spanish. The way it was, it seemed like a half-assed job to me. Think about it: the Player’s Association should of let Topps just make cards in Spanish, like they did with O-Pee-Chee for French-speaking Canadians. They could’ve built off the resurrection of the sets Topps released in Venezuela in the Sixties and early Seventies. People would’ve become interested in those hidden gems, if however briefly. Anything would’ve been better than Pacific’s set from 1994.

#62. 1994 Topps
I kind of liked this set when it came out. It was a derivative of 1993 Topps, only with a better design, better photos and a nice thin gloss varnish on the front and back. I call it derivative of 1993 Topps because it was released in two series over the course of the season and Topps Gold parallel cards were seeded one per pack, which was kind of neat. There weren’t too many All-Star caliber rookies (though Konerko and Jason Schmidt made an appearance in the Traded set), and All-Stars were head-to-head AL/NL by position. Really, there’s not much to say about this set.
That’s because it’s not who’s included in this set that is important, but who’s not. Topps had three chances to include a card of Alex Rodriguez in this set, but didn’t. Only a handful of sets did include the A-Rod rookie (SP is the most notable), and those that did were rewarded with more interest from collectors.

I guess the only thing I can add right now is that I unearthed this card of Barry Bonds over the weekend. When this card came out in 1994, it perfectly summed up the hero cloaked in stoic greatness. Today it’s still perfect; a perfect photographic metaphor of the shadows that have enveloped much of this man’s game.




More Countdown Coming Soon

Early Nineties Countdown: #77 to #70

The checklist is complete. The sets have been ranked. And while I originally thought there were 76 sets from 1990 to 1994, I recounted and found there to be 77, so that’s the figure I’m sticking to.

A few more notes before we begin. Like the Eighties countdown, the worth of an individual card or set will not be considered when ranking these sets, but may be mentioned anecdotally in describing a set. Also, I am going to say that my personal favorites of the years in question will not get preferential treatment, but we all know that that’s a very tall order to fill and I may stray from that rule. Also, I recently came across an old Beckett from November 1995, and will be referring to the stuff in it on more than one occasion. For starters, let me say that I forgot how big a deal Kenny Lofton was; his 1992 Fleer Update card is high column listed at $32.00! Are you kidding?

Finally, what makes a countdown like this so great to me is that thinking back on all these sets, I was able to come up with good things and bad things about almost all of them. There were only a handful that I had no recollection of collecting, and almost none where I couldn’t think of anything to say. I’ve decided that the sets that fall into this category, those that are so boring and non-descript that even I can’t think of one good or bad thing about them, were boring because they simply had no reason to exist. I’ve put these sets at the bottom of the list, but really they shouldn’t even be in the countdown.

In no particular order…

#77 1994 OPC
#76 1993 OPC
#75 1993 OPC Premier
#74 1994 Triple Play
#73 1994 Sportflics

Now, let the countdown begin.

#72. 1991 Leaf
Let’s start with some easy multiple choice. Let’s say that you’re in charge of Leaf, it’s 1991, and you’ve just come out with one of the great sets of 1990: a set with a perceived limited production run, chock full of rookies, plus a great design and loads of star cards that everyone, young and old, want to get their mitts on. How would you follow this great success? Would you a) put out another great set following the same principles, b) take in a ton of advance orders and then split for the border with the cash, or c) over-produce, strip the base set of important rookies, stuff them in an insert set that no one will ever be able to complete, commission and greenlight a shitty design and then laugh all the way to the bank? If you answered ‘c’…congratulations, you’re correct.

Seriously, how did Donruss and Leaf screw this up? A company simply doesn’t abandon a winning formula, especially at a time when there are a thousand competitors in—let’s face it—a niche marketplace. Why, why, why didn’t they include important rookies in this set? Why did they only include them in the Gold Leaf Rookies insert set? If Leaf had included a Jeff Bagwell rookie in the base set, this would have been a monster in the early Nineties. Instead, it was the hobby’s biggest joke; one from which Leaf would never recover.

#71. 1990 Fleer
I’ve given this a lot of thought over the past few days: Were it not for the colossal let-down that was 1991 Leaf, 1990 Fleer would be the worst set of the first five years of the Nineties, and for a variety of reasons, none so prevalent as it simply had nothing to offer. You’d think that 1990 would’ve been a stellar year across the board for baseball cards, as 1989 had so much going for it and the hobby was experiencing a boom larger than it had ever seen. That was simply not the case. While other sets figured out a way to capitalize on the hype, a few didn’t (Fleer chief among them).

This is not to say that they didn’t try new things with this set; they did. In addition to the requisite combos and doubleheaded rookies, they included 'Players of the Decade,' a new subset of stars of the 1980s. Fleer also led the way with three insert sets: All-Stars, League Standouts and Soaring Stars (after a 1991 hiatus, this insert set was renamed Rookie Sensations for 1992).

But they took more than a few bad turns. For some reason their design team (which was in the middle of putting together an unprecedented four straight years of bad design, 1989 to 1992) approved a bland white border and bland red, white and blue back—virtually guaranteeing that collectors would confuse them with novelty deck-of-cards sets you could buy at Circle K, Kmart and other fine drugstore and discount department store chains. They then proceeded to miss out on the key rookie of 1990, Frank Thomas. Oh, and like most of all the other manufacturers that year, they printed 1 billion cards.

It’s not so much that they printed so many cards. It’s that they printed so many cards and none of those cards was of Frank Thomas. Taking nothing away from Juan Gonzalez, David Justice, Marquis Grissom, Ben McDonald, Larry Walker, John Olerud, Delino DeShields or even Sammy Sosa, Thomas was hands-down the best of the bunch. So to come out with a set that doesn’t have a card of him? What’s the point of that? Exactly. There is no point. You’re just killing time until you have a chance to show the world you realize you screwed up and pray that collectors are completist enough to hold out and buy your lousy Update set at the end of the season, where not only will there be Thomas, but Olerud, Carlos Baerga (was there ever anyone bigger than Carlos Baerga was in 1993?) and Travis Fryman too.

Too bad by the time the Update set came, nobody really cared about it, either.


#70. 1990 Bowman
OK, so I didn’t mean to set up Frank Thomas as the savior of baseball cards. In reality, he was a standout from the many that made up the great, overlooked rookie class of 1990. And while it’s a good thing that Thomas is in this Bowman set, it’s also true that this set is not a classic simply because it has a card of Thomas in it. Far from it.

1990 Bowman must be viewed as a transition set between the 1989 and 1991 Bowman sets. 1990 was the first year to use the modern card size (1989 was the same size as the 1950s issues, just slightly taller than what is considered the ‘modern’ card size that began with 1957 Topps) and really the first Bowman attempt to fashion itself as the ‘Home of the Rookie Card,’ something it would achieve with the 1991 set. So where does that leave this set? Well, it’s got a lot of rookies; all the big names are here, all in the one series, which is nice. Plus the front was one big color photo with a tiny white border along the bottom with team and player names (also nice). But that’s where the niceties stop.

Those minimal fronts became a big sea of boring faces as the set progressed. Also, what was with the backs? Who was it at Bowman/Topps that decided a grid-like breakdown of the past year’s stats would be a good thing? Granted, it was something that set Bowman apart, but for the worse. I could never make heads nor tails of the stats on the back of a Bowman card from 1989 to 1991.

There nothing really that bad about 1990 Bowman, it’s just boring. Minimal design is one thing, but boring? 'Boring' is never going to cut it in baseball cards. C'mon Bowman, you know that.


#69 to #65 Coming Soon