Help Me Choose My Next Set: 1990s Edition

There's really nothing like collecting a new—or new to you—set. I'm just putting the finishing touches on 1988 Topps baseball (only six cards to go!) and now I'm itching to start another. I've got it narrowed down to two possibilities: 1991 Topps Stadium Club baseball or 1992-93 Topps Stadium Club basketball.

I never collected either when I was a kid; both were too expensive. Fast forward 25 years and you can still find unopened wax for under $20 a box (what an investment that turned out to be!). Here are the pros and cons of each set...

1991 Topps Stadium Club baseball
As Topps's first foray into super premium design and materials, 1991's TSC had an undeniably great design on both front and back. It was also the first Topps baseball product to be released in more than one series in 18 years (last multi-series Topps baseball set was in 1973). There was a card of Nolan Ryan wearing a tux. For no good reason. (Collection idea: Guys in tuxedoes. There are a ton of cards depicting players in formal wear, for some reason most of them produced in 1991.) The backs featured an inset of that player's Topps rookie card. This was especially great when that player's rookie card was his 1991 Topps Stadium Club card. My 12-year-old self really loved the crap out of this ripple in the spacetime continuum. The photography is fantastic, and with full-bleed photos without borders, getting a miscut card is a really big deal (no borders mean miscuts are obvious; an excellent prospect for miscut collectors like me).

There are few drawbacks to this set. Foremost are the head-scratching data splits on the card back. Second, because the cards are basically just 25-year-old color photos, the cards stick together. Also, there are only 600 cards in the whole set, which means the last of the scrubs won't have cards. Also, there are few rookies (Bagwell, Luis Gonzalez) and no Chipper Jones.

1992-93 Topps Stadium Club basketball
I only purchased two packs on these when I was a kid, since packs were insanely expensive. Now you can buy a jumbo box of series two for $40. The photography is exquisite. The backs feature "rookie cards," which is self-defeating, since Topps did not create basketball cards from 1983 to 1991. Conversely, the actual rookies in series two are great, as the 1992 draft was hobby-defining for the 1990s: Shaq, Alonzo Mourning, Christian Laettner, Jimmy Jackson, Harold Miner, Walt Williams; even Latrell Sprewell. The checklist is robust at 400 total cards, which is especially deep for a pre-Toronto/Vancouver NBA expansion set.

And series two featured the ridiculous "Beam Team" insert, which was meant to highlight a laser-light extravaganza shown at halftimes of select NBA games and instead became the hottest insert of the early 1990s. Man, how I wanted those cards! And I don't think I ever even actually saw one in real life, just in Beckett.

The drawbacks are similar to those of the baseball set: clumped card stock, data points that make no sense to little kids, and the aforementioned non-rookie rookie cards.

So now I leave it up to you...

panel management

The Man Who Came to Dinner

John Barfield, 1991 Score

Cool mechanics, John Barfield.

"Your mom liked 'em, Internet weirdo." - John Barfield

Touché, John Barfield. Let's move on.

John was brought up from Triple-A Oklahoma City in late May ’90 as a temporary replacement for Gary Mielke

That is the SEXIEST story about opportunity knocking I have ever heard. It’s also, coincidentally, exactly how I started blogging.

But, like the man who came to dinner, John pitched so well in middle and long relief, he just stayed and stayed and stayed.

What

Texas Rangers equipment manager Dizzy Flapperton: STILL HERE, EH BARFIELD? YOU’RE LIKE THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER.

John Barfield: Ha, ha, yeah … what?

Flapperton: THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER, YOU KNOW—THE FAMOUS MOVIE.

Barfield: Uh, I’m not black.

Flapperton: NOT THAT DINNER MOVIE YA’ BIG DUMMY! THE 1942 COMEDY STARRING MONTY WOOLLEY, DUH.

Barfield: I don’t … I just … I am 25.

Flapperton: YOU DANG KIDS DON’T KNOW NOTHIN’ ABOUT CULTURE. YA’ JUST PITCH YOUR BALLS AND HIT YOUR BALLS AND I’M THE ONE WHO’S GOTTA CLEAN UP THE MESS.

Barfield: That sounds gross.

Flapperton: BUT AT LEAST YER HERE. OL' MIELKE IS BACK THERE ON THE TRAINER'S TABLE AGAIN, AND GETTIN' PAID FOR IT TOO, NO LESS. I SWEAR THAT GUY IS LIKE THE THIEF OF BAGDAD ...

Barfield: ...

Flapperton: THE THIEF OF BAGDAD.

Barfield: ...

Flapperton: FER CRYIN' OUT LOUD! THE POINT IS, JUST KEEP PITCHING WELL IN MIDDLE AND LONG RELIEF, AND YA' CAN STAY FOR DINNER AND EAT AS MUCH LASAGNA AS YA’ LIKE, OKAY GARFIELD?

Barfield: It’s “Barfield.” Why are you yelling?

The World Needs a Retro Donruss Studio Set

Topps can conjure nostalgia for a wave of collectors just by opening a random file cabinet in its overstuffed HQ and producing a legacy design series like Archives or Heritage. And yet, the 13-year-old in me still thinks that nothing beats 1991's "sophisticated," "artistic," and high-cheese-quotient Studio. So tell us, Donruss: What's stopping you from jumping into the retro deep end with both feet?

Here's what I'm looking for:

1. Tasteful black and white photography of men with mullets. I understand that standard baseball hair fashion these days consists of goatees, mountain-man beards, and Mohawk variations, so you might want to stock a few mullet wigs with your photography equipment.

2. Hats optional. And actually, without a MLB license, I'd even accept a 225-card series of players in street clothes, or warmup shirts. Or even Ebbets Field Flannels jerseys of forgotten PCL teams.

3. Autographed buy-backs of Ramon Martinez, Steve Lake, Roger McDowell, Sammy Sosa, Jeff Bagwell, and Kevin Belcher. Really, it would need a 25-to-30-player autographed buy-back checklist featuring the most memorable photos from the original set.

4. Trivial personal interest filler on the backs. Who watches Orange Is The New Black? Or what about The Bachelorette? Or Adventure Time? Also, I'd like to know if more players today would list "Jesus Christ" as their personal hero than did in 1991 (11 players back then, including Alvin Davis, who listed his heroes as "Jesus Christ and Harold Reynolds").

5. No inserts. I realize that this last one is a tall order for a card company in the business of making money. So how about just a few parallels? Definitely needs a one-per-pack stamped, original buyback from the 1991 series. Then a six-per-box "Outtakes" parallel, which would be a photo variation. Finally, a much-harder-to-find "Negatives" parallel, which would show up once every few boxes, maybe like one or two per case.

Even without that pesky MLB license, this could be a nice, low-frills retro set that harks back to a simpler time when men wore a workingman's haircut, enjoyed shows like A Different World, Cheers, and Unsolved Mysteries, and collected porcelain figures of animals (well, maybe that was just you, Glenn Davis).

Score one for America

When two things as American as baseball and America combine forces to honor our armed forces, the result is something so glorious it exceeds the combined sum of their American parts.

This is the American flag. But it is also a baseball card. You can tell it’s a baseball card because of all the America on it, not because of the baseball, which is invisible.

Score, the company that created this American flag card—this Ameriflard—was not going to stand idly by and let the flag speak for itself. Nor would it utilize the back of this card to list the statistics of the most American baseball player (this guy, obvs) or of America herself (DID YOU KNOW? America was signed by scout John Hancock after posting a perfect WAR in 1776). No. Score was going to play an active part in the effort.

1991 Score

Score’s mom: Score? Are you asleep in there, honey?

Score: (dressed in pajamas and night cap, kneeling by bed, which is covered in bald eagle sheets) Not yet, Mommy! Just praying for world peace.

Score’s mom: Good boy. I’ll bring up some milk in a minute.

Score: WARM IT UP FIRST THIS TIME, DANG.

Guys, let me make something clear: I love America. Truly I am blessed to have been born here—I doubt I’d be able to have a non-job contributing to a baseball card-based blog in, say, Micronesia—and I revere our armed forces. This is the truth. But also: what is this card?

I had originally written a more serious post attempting to explore this topic—paying homage to our troops in ridiculous, self-serving ways—and ran it past Ben, who shed some light on the history of baseball card companies’ military complex. The dialogue made me feel as though I shouldn’t curtail my first instinct at viewing this card again, which was: make fun of this.

As Ben pointed out, Score could have put some real effort into this, and made cards for soldiers, generals, or anyone on the front lines who could have become an identifiable face of the war effort for young kids. Instead they stuck a flag on the front and, on the back, claimed that they, Score, a subsidiary of Pinnacle Brands, was praying.

I can’t decide if this card is a Veteran’s Day mattress blowout sale—a marketing scheme masked as dignified patriotism (and, in this case, devout spiritualism)—or a moderately genuine but completely lackluster attempt to give a nod to our troops. Either way it sucks. That is all.

You Lose All, You Win All

Question:

Zero chances. Impossible. No way. I mean 0-6? That is the worst thing I have ever heard. Gritless. Gutless performance. Fire him from the minors. Actually KILL HIM. No coming back from that. Stick a fork in 'em. Done. Chances at major league stardom? PFFTT. Get a clue, jerkwad. Lose minor league games much? Yes, is the answer. Wasn't a rhetorical question, idiot. You're the worst person.

Ordinarily, nil.

Always, nil. A scenario does not exist where the answer is not "nil," so your "ordinarily" is sugar-coating. End of discussion. Let's talk about something else. I am tired of talking about terrible pitchers who are dumb and stupid.

But Chris, who did that in the Triple-A American Association in '90, isn't an ordinary pitcher.

Why, does he pitch from his butt instead of his hand? What does this mean? What am I even reading right now? Who is Chris?

 Chris

Oh. 'Sup.

A tall, lean southpaw with an outstanding curveball,

That is extremely NOT ordinary - some would even say extraordinary. Tall AND lean? I am beginning to reconsider my notion that a pitcher could go 0-6 in the minors and still attain major league stardom. If anyone could do it, Chris could. Prolly not though, still.

he had started the season, only his second in pro ball at Double-A Jacksonville and was promoted to Indianapolis in mid-June.

Don't even tell me he went 0-6 there.

Despite going winless in the AA

If you replace "the" with another "A" and move it next to the other "A"s, then what you've said is accurate and normal. Also, did he die after that happened? I would die of embarrassment.

Chris was brought up to the Expos in mid-August to replace the traded Zane Smith in the starting rotation.

"Yo, we traded the fart face guy. So uh, I dunno ... let's bring up the dude who literally cannot win in the minors. I think it will be good and ensure the stability and location of our franchise." - Expos dudes

Did he ever!

Calm down. Just tell me what happened.

Chris won his first five decisions, giving up only 19 hits in 30 IP. He went 6-0 when he pitched his first major league CG and shutout, beating the Mets

LOL Mets

2-0 on a brilliant one-hitter.

This is cray. It's almost as if the fact that he struck out 44 and walked ONE in AAA was more important than the fact he went 0-6, and that he pitched pretty much the same as he always did - well - when he reached the bigs and had success because wins are stupid and gross.

Who needs to win big in the minors anyway?

Ha, great rhetorical question to end this amazing storybook story of a story! Nobody, silly! Well, at least not Chris Nabholz! Ha, ha! Man, the Mets suck.

 Chris Nabholz, 1991 Score

Braveheart

 Alex Cole, 1991 Fleer Ultra

Outfielder Alex Cole looked off into the distance. The enemy troops were fast approaching. "It's okay," Alex Cole thought. "I have my bats."

Alex Cole envisioned a world of freedom, where it didn't matter if you were a position player or a pitcher, black or white, man or horse, gay or super gay or even straight, whatevs. Like he himself had written on his nation's "Declaration of Things," "This should be a place where everyone can just chill. Peace out, - AC."

But the enemy (Hater Nation) didn't want to chill. They wanted to fight. Alex Cole was cool with that, too. Because Alex Cole was a triple threat.

He could get mad, take a hack (with a bat or axe).

He could rest on one knee and observe (like a general).

He could bunt.

So on that fateful day, as a nation looked on with both hope and trepidation, its leader, outfielder Alex Cole, turned around to speak, his imposing presence amidst the backdrop of a partly cloudy sky.

"Gentleman," he began, " ... and chickenheads HOLLA just playin'. For real though - today is a day that will live on in history, the day we stood our ground and earned our everlasting freedom once and for all! So grab your bats, make sure your wraparound glasses are super-tight, and let's do this, son! Also, if anything should happen out there - like if this gets out of control and sh*t goes DOWN - my hat says No. 2. So somebody find it and bury me with it, aiiiiight?"

The Spirited Play of Lenny

Lenny Dykstra, 1991 Score "The Franchise"

We've covered Lenny around here before, and ditto for The Franchise. So why I am posting this? Well, for one thing, I think Lenny kinda sorta looks like Mike Trout here, so this card is RELEVANT. Also, it's like, I don't know, should we STOP talking about Lenny Dykstra? Probs not, dude is always bringing the realness. But the true reason I wanted to post this card today is because:

Have you ever wondered, like SERIOUSLY wondered how the Philadelphia Phillies performed the amazing feat of going from last place in 1989 to a tie for fourth in 1990? Seems ridiculous even writing it down now, so many years later. Of course, much of this was captured in the famous Steven Soderbergh documentary, "Worst To Tied For Fourth: The Amazing Story of the 1989 and 1990 Philadelphia Phillies and What They Meant to America." Much of that doc dealt with the after effects of the feat, the shock waves that reverberate throughout baseball even to this day. But has anyone had the guts to ask HOW they did it? You don't just go from worst to tied for fourth overnight, unless it's like the very beginning of the season or there's some crazy parity happening. It's takes years, decades, millennia to go from worst place to tied for fourth place. So again, I ask, does anyone have the guts, the BALLS the openly wonder how this happened?

The Franchise has the balls.

A large part of the Phillies climb from last place in '89 to a tie for fourth in '90 was because of the spirited play of Lenny.

I want to make my OWN movie called "The Spirited Play of Lenny." Here is the script:

Lenny Dykstra arrives at Phillies camp shirtless, chewing tobacco

Lenny Dykstra: 'Sup DORK-wads, ha. Nice last place last year.

Rest of Phillies: (hang heads in disappointment)

Dykstra: Any of you DORK-wads ever dove for a ball in your whole life? (does somersault through a ring of fire)

Rest of Phillies: (ooh and ahhh)

Manager Nick Leyva: Put that fire out! Where the hell did that even come from? What's going on here?

Dykstra: 'Sup Manager ... (squints to pretend to read name tag that isn't there) ... DORK-face.

Rest of Phillies: (snicker)

Leyva: Well, well, I see Mr. Dykstra finally decided to join us. Heard about you, son ... about your untamed attitude. Also heard about your spirited play, which I was hoping would rub off on some of THESE dork-wads ...

Dykstra: Oh you mean like THIS? (dives into fence head first)

Leyva: Uh, yeah I guess.

Dykstra: Well TOO BAD. I don't play like that anymore, Skip. Heart's not in it. Left a broad behind in New York. She died or whatever. Not really, but kind of. Might as well have.

Leyva: What does that ... what? Doesn't matter. Listen Lenny - we brought you here for your spirited play - we need you! We had high hopes for this season ...

Dykstra: Oh yeah? Like what - sixth place? Pfft.

Leyva: Lenny, I - gather 'round everyone. I was gonna save this for later but what the hay. Lenny, to answer your question, no. We're not thinking sixth place. We're shooting for the stars this year, son. We're thinking - I'm gonna tell you guys this right now - we're thinking FOURTH PLACE, dang it!

Dykstra: YOU'RE CRAZY OLD MAN!

Leyva: Am I? WELL SO WHAT? I believe in this team! I know we can do it! Fourth place is the goal, and I don't care if we have to share it. There, it's out there now. THAT'S the goal, and we can't do it without you Lenny ...

Bunch of scenes where Lenny's not playing spirited, team still in last place. Then he meets a broad who slowly but surely starts to make him forget about the not dead broad he left behind behind in NY.

Broad: Well then go ahead! Get out of here. And keep playing unspirited baseball! See if I care ... (cries)

Dykstra: OH YEAH? (turns around dramatically) WELL SEE IF I CA- (attacks her with kisses)

(they have sex)

Dykstra: (after sex) You know what ... ... ...

Jillian: Jillian.

Dykstra: You know what, Jillian? I think you're rekindling my ... my ... my spirit.

Montage of Lenny playing spirited baseball, diving and getting dirty. Montage also includes scenes of Phillies moving up in the standings; montage stops when they reach fourth place. Movie ends.

Fiesty, with plenty of spunk,

I'm going to go back and rewrite the script to include the fiestiness and spunk, so don't worry.

The Sluggo of Berry Hill

                                                                 Damon Berryhill, 1991 Score

A funny thing happened on the way to the back of this card ...

A funny thing happened to Damon on his way to recovery from surgery on his right shoulder in '90.

That is a succinct, engaging lede. I can't wait to discover the funny thing that happened! Here are my guesses:

He fell down the stairs carrying a bag of rooster meat and broke his LEFT shoulder.

He decided he hated baseball and wanted to be a bicycle repairman.

He recovered fully and returned to playing baseball. (The funny thing was how seamless it all went.)

He had a fart attack.

Those are excellent guesses. Let's see which one is right.

While he was away, Joe Girardi stepped up and became a good No. 1 receiver for the Cubs.

UNBELIEVABLE. Guy gets injured and the team uses a different guy in his place? I have never heard of such a thing ever happening before. Why couldn't the Cubs just not have used a catcher for a little while? This truly is a very funny thing to have happened to Damon Berryhill. Hey, Berryhill, you're out of a job, ha ha! Nice shoulder problems, dude.

That means Damon will have to show he still has the right stuff

NKOTB reference, I like it.

Cubs Manager Don Zimmer: Hey Berryhill, still think you still got the right stuff?

Berryhill: I think so, Skip. Just gonna take it step by step.

Zimmer: Good call. Happy to see you're hangin' tough after that shoulder injury.

Berryhill: Yeah, no doubt. Please don't go girl.

Zimmer: You talking to me?

Before his debilitating injury, Damon was cited as the best defensive catcher in the NL. Known as "Sluggo," he had one of the strongest throwing arms in the game.

Back in my playing days (Little League), whenever I noticed a guy (kid) had a strong arm, I liked to nickname him, "Sluggo." Because of his arm.

Hey, way to gun that runner down at home from center field ... "Sluggo!"

Shut up, KENNY.

Unrelated: In 1989, Berryhill sluggo'd .341.

LaCoss, Part Two

Mike LaCoss, 1991 Score

We've all met Mike LaCoss before, right? Good. (When you search Mike LaCoss these days, that post is No. 3 on Google's Mike LaCoss radar. It appears above his Baseball Almanac page. We are mainstream here now, folks. In specific regards to Mike LaCoss, but still.)

I would like to talk about Mike LaCoss a little more because I found something that is baffling to me.

Mike was one of the handful of Giants starters who went on the disabled list in '90, and weakened the team's chances of repeating in the NL West.

"LaCoss to DL - Giants chances of repeating further weakened" is a headline I have just thought up that I think would have been appropriate for that occasion. Sometimes I like to think of headlines that would have been awesome 20 years ago based on information I have read on the back of a baseball card. This particular headline would have been perfect to include in a high school time capsule circa 1990, because that year is best remembered for the various injuries sustained by the starting pitchers of the San Fransisco Giants.

He missed over three months after arthroscopic surgery to repair torn cartilage in his left knee.

I can never remember if it was his left knee or his right knee. It was his left knee.

Before being injured, Mike pitched a strong four-hit 3-1 victory over the Dodgers for his second straight win.

You guys are probably waiting for the baffling part. Sorry - I'm not sure why I copied down all the other crap. My bad. Here is the baffling part:

An All-Star pitcher in '79, his out pitch is -- you guessed it -- a split-fingered fastball.

I'm sorry, I just, WHY WOULD I HAVE GUESSED THAT?

Seriously, why would I have guessed that? No disrespect to Mike LaCoss, but was the average person so acutely aware of his split-fingered fastball? I feel like maybe not everybody knew about Mike LaCoss' out pitch.

Could it be that Mike LaCoss is tossing a split-fingered fastball on the front of the card, and the back of the card assumes that the 10-year-old kid viewing the card has excellent still-shot pitch recognition? Did some part of this text get accidentally deleted? I am at a complete loss here.

Ironically, I feel as though we here at The BBC Blog, in some small way, might have brought just a modicum of fame to Mike LaCoss' split-fingered fastball (by calling it a forkball, btw). But this card predates that post by two decades. Is it possible I am in some sort of time warp where blogs exist but Mike LaCoss is still playing? That seems more feasible to me than the idea that the effectiveness of Mike LaCoss' split-fingered fastball is common knowledge.

I don't know, maybe I am underestimating America's familiarity with Mike LaCoss' pitch repertoire. He did, after all, give Topps that famous split-fingered pose in '89 ... maybe he was just giving an insatiable nation what it so desperately wanted. If so, therein lies yet another irony -- that I once so callously attempted to sarcastically highlight his split-fingered fastball when that pitch needed no highlighting and was, in fact, already more famous than I could ever hope to be. Is the joke on me? I fear it very well might be.

Maybe I would have guessed it. Maybe I should have guessed it. This is bothering me very much, you guys. I have a full-time job, btw.

The Practically Perfect Practical Joker

 

Ryne Sandberg, 1991 Score All-Star

It's difficult to be serious when you're looking at a big-head cartoon baseball card. But let's get serious here for a second. Because guys -- Ryne Sandberg will beat you.

Ryne can beat you so many ways --

Like, beat ME? But I am just sitting here writing about Ryne Sandberg! I didn't ask for any trouble. I have always humbly acknowledged that Ryne Sandberg can beat me in a myriad of ways, including:

with a home run, a clutch base hit, a steal, by scoring from first on a double

By understanding the signs given to him by the third base coach, by telling the outfielders how many outs there are, with his fists, with his MIND,

making a tremendous fielding play.

And with that we have listed all the conceivable ways a baseball player can single-handedly beat a baseball team. WE THOUGHT WE WUZ GONNA WIN BUT WHEN RYNO SCORED FROM FIRST ON DAT DOUBLE WE WUZ LIKE, LIGHTS OUT.

Ryne has such natural instincts and intangibles

Full disclosure: I was never aware a middle infielder possessed intangibles pre-Jeter. I had thought that Derek Jeter literally invented intangibles, an act in itself that IS intangible because no one knows how he did it. So this is all very surprising to me, although not really because I have natural instincts for noticing intangibles.

that he rarely, if ever, makes the wrong play, either on the field or on the bases.

That he rarely, IF EVER, makes the wrong play. IF EVER. IF EVER. IF EVER.

"There is an excellent chance that Ryne Sandberg has never made a mistake." -- this baseball card. 

Not that I am a skeptic, but I did take the initiative to check and: Ryne Sandberg has 109 career errors. That is just in the field. I tried to look up how many times he made the wrong decision while running the bases (j/k I didn't do that), but I couldn't because that is an intangible.

Okay so obviously Ryne Sandberg was a tremendous defensive player by any metric. But I was thinking that maybe we can chill out a little bit with the praise. I think we can all agree that Ryne Sandberg has intangibles, but that doesn't mean he's infallible. I mean, this isn't Don Mattingly we're talking about here.

A gamer who likes to play practical jokes, he set records for

Practical jokes?

errorless games and total chances in '90.

I would like to learn more about the practical jokes. I don't appreciate how this card mentions practical jokes in passing and then doesn't expand. What are the hot foot stats? How did he marry being a gamer AND a practical joker, as it is obviously something not many players can do. Who got the ol' clubhouse whoopie cushion? Who fell victim to a double-decker poop job? Who let the dogs out?

"Day in and day out, there's nothing he can't do," said Cub manager Don Zimmer.

I'm sure there's something he can't do. It may take a hundred years and 12,000 scientists to reveal, but I am confident there is something Ryne Sandberg cannot do. In the meantime, we must all take the word of the man who once fell down while trying to fight Pedro Martinez, which was a hilarious practical joke.

World's Best Guy

George Brett, 1991 Score, "The Franchise"

A lot of people ask me, "Mike, is George Brett a good person?" And I will say, "Well, I don't really know. Because I don't really know George Brett, like, at all. I just make fun of my old baseball cards on the Internet. I don't actually know any players." Then the person will say, "Oh. That's pretty dumb." Then I will say, "I DO know that George Brett is extremely tan for a person who lives in Kansas City, from what I have seen on television," but by that point the person has already walked away.

This much we know for sure: George Brett is indeed The Franchise and he can also hold up to three baseball bats at the same time without falling down. But IS he a good person? Hmmm ... let's try and find out.

George has been the ultimate franchise player for the Royals for 18 years now. Just when everyone was ready to pass the mantle on to someone younger in '90,

I remember in 1990 thinking, "When are the Kansas City Royals going to metaphorically pass the mantle of 'franchise player' down to someone younger than George Brett? George Brett is pretty freakin' old, and other players are younger than him and also Bo Jackson. Maybe if I keep watching television this will happen, and I won't miss the ceremony ... "

he rose from the depths of a .267 BA

(Note: BA stands for "batting average," a.k.a. the most important statistic ever. "A.k.a." stands for "also known as," which I didn't have time to write out completely earlier.) I didn't want to say this, but what a jerk for having such a crappy batting average at one point in time. Is he TRYING to hurt the team? That's not really the kind of personality I want from my "franchise player," someone who is such a jerky jerk that he can't hit the ball more often.

at midseason to win the AL batting title.

Wowzers. I wish there was an adequate phrase that captured exactly how I feel at this very moment, other than "wowzers."

What a guy!

What a guy, indeed! I don't think anything speaks to George Brett's character better than the fact that in 1990 he had a poor batting average before ending up with the best batting average. He probably started hitting better because he went to the hospital everyday to visit old people and maybe he also went to Africa and did some stuff there, too. "What a guy!" is something I like to say when someone (a guy) does something awesome that reveals his true personality. I haven't said it non-sacrastically in two decades, but nevertheless!
One more time with feeling!

What a guy!

Again!

What a guy!

You know what? Just for confirmation, let's ask the opinion of someone who really knows George Brett -- Angels' Manager Doug Rader.

"There's more to him than just being a player," said Angels' manager Doug Rader.

Impossible! All baseball players are just players and not actual human beings with emotions or thoughts that exist outside the realm of baseball! What is this jerk even talking about?

"The way he projects himself, the way he handles himself in the field, the way he competes, George is something special."

I don't want to editorialize here, but I think part of the reason the Royals were so hesitant to pass down The Franchise player mantle was because no other player handled himself in the field the way George Brett did. Like the way he stood on it and handled himself. In fact, the mantle itself is literally a statue of George Brett handling himself in the field. It's kind of gross, which is probably why no one else wants it.

The Fire of Savviness

Doug Jones, 1991 Score Dream Team series

I don't know anything about Doug Jones -- let's pretend; I obviously know everything there is know about Doug Jones -- but I do know that he obviously has a blazing fastball. I know that because the baseball he is holding in this Score Dream Team card is blazing. Like it's literally on fire. Remember, these are the days before Photoshop, so everything you see is real. And if Doug Jones can set fire to a baseball by merely holding it gingerly, one can only imagine what his blazing fastball does. I just imagined it, and his blazing fastball explodes before it reaches home plate, only it just appears to have exploded because in actuality it was going so fast that it time-traveled to the past and successfully prevented the assassination of Gerald Ford. WHEW!

Anyway, let's find out more about Doug Jones' blazing fastball.

Doug is an anomaly among stoppers.

Think about everything you've come to understand about traditional stoppers. How they don't like to eat spaghetti. How they only go to matinees because they are so freakin' cheap. How they come from broken homes but were then adopted by two dads who aren't gay but just living together. How they are called stoppers. Now forget all of that because Doug Jones doesn't fit into that box, yet he stops nonetheless. Weird, right? The only trait we know for sure that Doug Jones shares with traditional stoppers is that he has a blazing fastball, which is optimal for stopping.

He doesn't have an overpowering fastball that blows batters away.

Oh, that is kind of weird because

What he does have is plenty of savvy

My mistake. I made an assumption by thinking the fire protruding from that baseball represented the heat generated by speed, but it is actually the fire of savviness. The fire of savviness burns deep in the heart of elite stoppers, and tells them things like, "He's looking for the heat, which you don't have, so throw this one slow and outside or whatever. Actually, maybe throw it first base now to disrupt his timing. Whoops, no runner on first. My bad, that was weird. Pretend the ball is dirty and ask for a new one."

and a dominant changeup that he mixes in with his with average fastball.

Have you guys ever seen how the Score baseball card company interprets an "average fastball?" Here:

Let's find out what Wikipedia has to add with regards to Doug Jones' blazing fastball, which is often represented accurately with fire:

A changeup specialist, he was known for keeping hitters off balance by throwing extremely slow pitches.

What's cool (opposite of hot) about this card is that, not only did Doug Jones not have a blazing hot fastball, he was actually renown for throwing the ball extremely slowly. Score was like, "How do we accurately represent the slowness with which Dream Team stopper Doug Jones throws a baseball?" and then another person at Score was like, "Sarcasm."

Oldies But Goodies (For 1/2 Season)

Terry Kennedy, 1991 Score

Terry Kennedy the baseball player -- not Compton Ass Terry -- was an old farty farthead who took naps while watching golf and who would have been the oldest baseball player who ever lived were it not for his Giants teammate, Gary "Old Man" Carter.

For two old guys, the catching tandem of Gary Carter (36) and Terry (34) did very nicely, thank you, in '90.

I am 34 years old myself and let me just tell you --                                    oops forgot what I was going to say. THAT'S how old I am. Where are my pants?

Seriously though, where are my pants? Seriously seriously though, age ain't nuthin' but a number (h/t Aaliyah or Mary J. Blige, one of them), and what really counts in the big scheme of things is craftiness, which is an intangible possessed by old people who are too freakin' lazy to exert physical effort.

Together, these two crafty catchers

It's a darn good thing these two elderly men did not try to outcraft each other. CRAFT-OFF!

Carter: Hold on there, rook. Let's work smarter, not harder. Might want to decide at what angle you want to get that couch out the door before you go thrashing it around like that. You're gonna throw your back out.

Kennedy: Listen, old man. Why don't you go check that paper over there. I already diagrammed the degrees at which we need to pivot to get this beauty out the door and into her new home. Took me all night, not that you would know, since you fell asleep watching "Matlock" ... AGAIN.

Carter: First of all, I was just resting my eyes. Second, not really sure I need to check a diagram from a guy who can't even pick an absent-minded rookie off first.

Kennedy: I don't make the calls, Gary the Elder, I just do my job. Rook was out by a half-step at least. You know it, I know it.

Carter: Welp, if you had spent any of your, what -- 14 years in the bigs? -- developing any kind of rapport with the men in blue like a good catcher should, you might have gotten the call.

Kennedy: Are you going to help me with this couch or what?

Carter: I was thinking -- it might be easier to take the door frame off ...

totaled 30 years of experience.

I just don't think "zero dropoff in experience between starting and backup catchers" is something general managers are targeting much these days, to everyone's great chagrin. Personally, I hate when my favorite team removes it's old catcher and inserts a younger catcher or vice versa. Even medium-age catchers are like, eh.

Best of all,

This is the best part.

Carter batted .302 and Terry hit .281 by mid-season.

That was the best part of ALL of this. That Gary Carter hit .302 and Terry hit .281 "by mid-season." What happened after mid-season? Don't know; doesn't matter. It's not the best part. The batting average by mid-season (BABMS) of two absurdly old catchers is what we're talking about here, nothing else. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my pants.

Plucking Out Redundant Redundancies

Gary Wayne, 1991 Score

Gary Wayne. Pitcher. Twins. That's all I know so far. Let's find out more.

Gary, a happy-go-lucky southpaw (if that isn't redundancy),

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? Honestly, what does that mean? All southpaws are happy-go-lucky, so it should go without saying? If so, a) that is a terrible stereotype -- oh, just because I'm left-handed (not me personally, thank God, weirdos) I don't have fears and anxieties like everyone else? -- and also b) nobody told this guy. I just ... I just don't know what this is supposed to mean.

gave the Twins strong middle relief after they plucked him out of the Montreal system

Confession: I hate the word "plucked" when used to describe obtaining the services of a human baseball player. Nevertheless.

Minnesota GM: We're looking for a happy-go-lucky southpaw.

Montreal GM: Aren't they all? Ha, ha, ha!

Minnesota GM: HAHAHAHAHA seriously though.

Montreal GM: We got a few middle reliever types in the system, but don't y'all go plucking from us!

Minnesota GM: Well, I mean ... that's the whole point of this conversation, no? I'll trade you Johnson, our 26-year-old no hit, all defense shortstop for ... shuffling through papers ... Gary Wayne.

Montreal GM: You dirty mother plucker ...

Minnesota GM: So ... does that mean it's a deal?

It was a chancy gamble

IF THAT ISN'T REDUNDANCY. Here is a baseball card that uses the parenthetical phrase "if that isn't redundancy" in a context that makes zero sense, and then in the very next sentence actually uses a redundant phrase without even, apparently, realizing it. If baseball cards were valued on ironic misuses of the word redundancy rather than the talent of the player featured, this card would be worth $700,000. CHANCY GAMBLE?

CHANCY GAMBLE? Am I the only one amazed by this? Sometimes I think I overanalyze the backs of my old baseball cards.

Anyway, let us discover why plucking Gary Wayne was a chancy gamble.

since he had suffered a stress fracture of his right foot three times in seventh months

Montreal GM: Before we sign on the dotted line here, I feel I should mention that Gary Wayne has had three right foot fractures in the past seven months.

Minnesota GM: That is ... weird. Does he have a right foot fracture problem?

Montreal GM: I'm sure it's just a coincidence. He's really happy-go-lucky.

Minnesota GM: Well, I didn't get into this line of work not to take chancy gambles.

Montreal GM: We're a dying breed, us two.

Racquetball Wrists Come in Handy for Guy

 Jeff Conine, 1991 Score

Curly mullet, no sideburns. Holla atcha boy.

You can’t start out much lower on the totem pole than Jeff did in ’88.

Here is Major League Baseball’s Totem Pole of Future Awesomeness, from lowest to highest:

Homeless person who just learned baseball thanks to a genie’s lamp found in a dumpster
Undrafted person
62nd round draft pick/vague relation to Tommy Lasorda
57th round draft pick/racquetball champion
Best player in Japan
1st round draft pick out of college
Foreign person who washed ashore on a raft
1st round draft pick out of high school
#1 overall draft pick
#1 overall draft pick + son of current/former major leaguer
Bryce Harper

A pitcher at UCLA and a National Junior racquetball champion at 18, he was drafted in the 57th round by the Royals.

The Royals, desperate for a first baseman, had targeted Conine as a potential late round pick in ’88. Their draft board analysis of Conine read:
Pros: Plays baseball, sort of, hustles (assuming)
Cons: Is a pitcher, not a first baseman, two-sport star - will he flee for racquetball $$$???

And two years later, you can’t stand much higher as a prospect than Jeff in ’90.

Stand forth, ye who stand highest among prospects! I don't know how a person stands high, but this is already a great story. Sometimes life is a just a constant reminder that baseball players are not necessarily bound by the Major League Baseball Totem Pole of Future Awesomeness. After all, a pole IS for moving up and down (twss).

Called "The Barbarian" for obvious reasons,

Because he ... hurls his feces at the competition before rushing them with a sharpened sword (illegal, by the way), and/or is a non-Greek living outside the Roman Empire with no literary skills? The reasons -- there are more than one reason? -- are not obvious to me.

According to Wikipedia, Jeff Conine's middle name is Guy. I like this because Jeff Conine totally looks like such a guy. Look at him.

I would have called him "Guy," personally, which would have been funny because it's his middle name and not his first name.

Jeff has extraordinarily strong wrists

Wrist-off! (twss)

and hands from playing racquetball.

I would enjoy an intense montage of Jeff Conine playing racquetball in order to get his wrists and hands strong enough for baseball. Oh, you think you're good at racquetball, balding CPA who is wearing goggles and a headband? Take THAT! Bam! My point or whatever you call it! Tell 'em "Guy the Barbarian" did it to ya'! NEXT! I'm almost ready for baseball! (I wonder if playing baseball is also a good way to improve wrist and hand strength for baseball. My friend is a physical therapist. I will ask him.)

"The day he gets to the big leagues, he'll be the best fielding first baseman in the league," said Joe Klein, the Royals director of player personnel.

Said Joe Klein, director of grandiose statements and person unfamiliar with one Donald Arthur Mattingly.

Jeff Conine played professional baseball for 17 very productive years. He is still awesome at racquetball and now he does triathlons. A bust of his hands and wrists are enshrined in Cooperstown next to a totem pole, and by Cooperstown I am referring to Alice Cooper's restaurant. And also that is not true.

A Taste of Two Gundersons

Eric Gunderson, 1991 Score

So apparently there is ANOTHER Eric Gunderson out there, amazingly, who is a member of the country trio Love and Theft, whatever that is. The presence of other Eric Gunderson was an unwelcome deterrent to my exhaustive research on real Eric Gunderson, baseball person. I got through it okay, guys, but it was tough. It was tough mainly in the respect that there is nothing out there regarding real Eric Gunderson. Meanwhile, other Eric Gunderson is on Twitter and stuff ... where is the justice here? Anyway, if my information overlaps, it's not my fault.

Eric gave the Giants a taste of his darting fastball in '90 and they liked what they saw.

Sorry, Score, but you can't see taste. Try this on for size:

Eric gave the Giants a taste of his darting fastball in '90, and they liked what they tasted.

Or:

Eric gave the Giants a taste of his darting fastball in '90, and what they (the Giants) tasted (the darting fastball) was delicious.

Or even:

Eric gave the Giants a taste of his darting fastball in '90, and they tasted it and were like, "This darting fastball tastes like heaven. Bring him to the big leagues, where he can taste success!"

Any one of these could have won "Lede of the Year, '90." Just saying. Where were we?

A mentally-tough southpaw,

I'm sorry, is there any other kind? I have literally never met a weak-minded left-handed person. It goes completely against science.

he was arrested for trying to board the plane with a large hunting knife.

That is ... something. I am lost. (By the way, that article describes Love and Theft as a duo. WHAT HAPPENED TO THEFT?) I need some manager-speak to bring everything back to normal here.

"He can't throw the ball straight," said manager Roger Craig.

Maybe the greatest managerial compliment (?) we've ever featured here on The BBC Blog. Outstanding stuff. I realize what he's trying to say here, that Gunderson's fastball has such natural movement he couldn't throw it straight if he tried. Still, you should probably, as a pitcher, be able to throw straight sometimes, yes? No? I am wrong? Okay, fine.

"He's got a heavy sinker that can get you out of an inning quickly with a DP. Actually, it's not a typical sinker, but a fastball that moves everywhere."

"He's got a curveball that can bend a guy's a knees. Actually, it's not a curveball, but a fastball that curves. It curves almost as much as his changeup, which isn't so much a chanegup, but a fastball that moves everywhere and a little bit slower, for some reason. It reminds me of his slider, which is also a fastball and not a slider, contrary to what I just said two seconds ago. He only throws a fastball, Gunderson."

'Big Head' Myers: Cartoonishly Strong Prankster

Randy Myers, 1991 Score All-Star

Who doesn’t like a big-head cartoon card? Nothing says “I take my baseball card-collecting seriously” like possessing a card with a cartoon picture of a grown man with an abnormally large dome piece.

To the back!

Randy is one of the most feared stoppers in baseball.

"A fact we here at Score attempted to personify by drawing him as a cartoon with a giant head. Our caricaturist originally had him riding a skateboard while juggling baseballs, but we figured, no -- that's not scary enough."

Extremely strong from a daily weightlifting regimen,

So Randy Myers totally lifts weights like, everyday. He's pretty much stronger than your dad ... by a lot. He could bench press your dad. He is extremely strong. From the lifting. He'll do some tris, some bis, some chest. Then he'll work in some back, some legs, some glutes, some shoulder presses. Calf presses, neck curls. Abs galore, obvs. Oh, what about the elliptical? Pfft. "That's all yours, Jane Fonda," is what he says to your dad after bench pressing him. Randy's fine with the free weights, okay? Does about a two-hour intense workout, followed by a 45-minute light workout -- the light workout is intense, Navy Seal-type stuff -- followed by a gallon of milk mixed with phosphogen and then some pasta, and then a bullpen session, then a quick half-hour workout. That's on a light day. No, that's on an off-day. Light day is every third Wednesday, a.k.a. "Extreme Wednesday." There are no light days. Full days are extreme to the max. Four-hour pre-breakfast workout, then 30 raw eggs, 10-minute nap, then a mountain-climb with two 45-lb plates attached to his testicles, then lunch at the top of the mountain -- lunch is a mountain goat he has to kill with his bare hands, standard -- then a thousand curls. Then it's gametime! Is he gonna pitch? Hopefully, but no sense in waiting. Instead try weighting ... bullpen dips, tri extensions, bench press, military press, etc. Phone rings. Bring in the main Nasty Boy. Hold up, he's almost got a decent burn going. Nine hundred ninety-nine, aaaaaaaaaaand ... done. Wait - carb load. Now he's ready. Takes the ball. Basically uses his weight regimen strength to throw the ball as hard as he can every time. Deal with it.

he simply winds up and throws his 93-mph as hard as he can to every batter.

Pitching coach: Okay so Randy, here's the gameplan. I want you to basically wind up and throw as hard as you can every time.

Randy Myers: No shit, Sherlock. What do you think I do all this weight-lifting for, to throw changeups? Pfft.

Pitching coach: Yeah whatever, just make sure you and catch are on the same page. Catch is short for catcher.

Randy Myers: I want to bench press you so bad right now. Catch, what's your page say?

Catcher: Pulls paper out of jockstrap, reads it. Page says, "heat." What's yours say?

Randy Myers: Oh, let me check. Pretends to look at a piece of paper. Mine says "heat," too. Stares at pitching coach. Now get off my mound, m'kay?

Randy is oblivious to pressure while pitching.

"What's it's like to deal with pressure?" a reporter once asked Randy Myers. Myers finished his set, restacked the weights properly, then responded, "Speak English, brah. No lo comprende, seniorita. Now spot me ... jk, you're weak."

Off the mound, he is prone to pranks and is a very outgoing guy.

I'm pretty sure "prone to pranks" means that Randy Myers is often the helpless victim of pranks, although I don't think that's what Score is trying to say here. Randy Myers IS the pranksta, this we know. Of course, that's not to say he's never played the victim. In fact, one time Norm Charlton gave Myers the ol' hot foot while Myers was trying to leg-press 650 pounds, and the whole leg press machine caught on fire, but Myers kept going because he wasn't finished his set yet. It was pretty extreme.

Rickey Being Naked

Rickey Henderson, 1991 Score Dream Team series

Score’s Dream Team series was mostly sort of weird. But this one … this card right here is just … man. This is an awesome baseball card, the precursor to ESPN’s “Body” series, which has morphed into something overtly sexual and awkward. (Instead of getting ready to steal a base, ESPN would have had Rickey completely naked, covering up his genitalia with a playful look that said, “Don’t steal my penis!”)

I’m also not sure any baseball card of my youth was more flattering to the player featured. All baseball cards are 3 ½ X 2 ½” pieces of cardboard, but the difference between the above card and this one are evidence that not all cards are created equal. I doubt Rickey minded the attention.

Score: Rickey, it’s Score. We need you to come to the studio tomorrow for the Dream Team series photo shoot.

Rickey: Cool. Rickey’ll be there. You want me to wear my stocking cap and beauty rest blindfold to go along with the "dream" theme?

Score: Actually … we need you to bring just a pair of spandex and a gold chain.

Rickey: Got it.

Next day, Rickey arrives wearing suit, changes in fitting room, shoot goes smoothly.

20 years later …

Score: So, true story: We’re doing a ‘Dream Team’ photo shoot in which Rickey is going to pose, essentially, naked. So I call him up the day before and say, ‘Rickey, just bring spandex and a gold chain.’ He says, ‘Rickey don’t understand.’ I say, ‘Don’t worry about it, Rickey, just trust me.’ So the next day, we’re all sitting in the studio getting ready, and in walks Rickey … barefoot, wearing only the spandex and gold chain! I say, ‘Rickey, we have a changing room here!’ He says, ‘Rickey don’t care. Rickey went to the grocery store first, and being there like this felt Liberace.’ I said, ‘Rickey, do you mean liberating?’ So he says, ‘Rickey knew a guy who used to wear a helmet like that,’ as he’s pointing to a naked Jon Olerud in the corner, whose shoot we just did. I said, ‘Rickey, Jon Olerud is your teammate!’”

(By the way, I am aware that Score went to the Rickey Henderson Naked well often. That does put a slight damper on this card, but still.)

Rickey infuriates, distracts and disrupts an opponent

Especially when he is standing at first base naked. By the way, there is so much I remember about Rickey Henderson as a kid—he hit a leadoff home run at the first Yankee game my dad ever took me to—not the least of which is the way he affected the entire flow of a baseball game when he reached first base. Part of the reason I love this card so much is because it captured everything he was about as a player with one pose. Yes, he’s going to steal … but look at that power. The other reason I love this card is because I like hot bodies.

But most of all, Rickey “has a way of unnerving pitchers, forcing them to do things they don’t ordinarily do,” says pitcher Kirk McCaskill.

Pitcher: Well, I don’t normally do this, but since Rickey’s on base … does robot.

Card vs. Card - May 9

The Champ: 1992 Topps Craig Wilson
The Challenger: 1991 Topps Archives "1953: The Ultimate Series" Eleanor Engle

We've got a new champ tonight: Eleanor Engle pulls out the win, 8-7.
We're going to stop doing these for a little while till we figure out a better way to display the polls on the blog.