The Wrong Kind of Star: Quirks in 2014 Topps Heritage

2014 Topps Heritage Mini - Zack Greinke

If you're collecting Topps Heritage this year, here's something you may not have realized. Just like in the sport it depicts, there are varying degrees of star popularity within the set. Here's what I mean. There are 13 different non-relic/non-autograph cards of superstar Mike Trout in the set. There are nine cards of Zack Greinke. By comparison, there are seven different cards of Alfonso Soriano. And just one card of guys like Mark Teixeira, Tim Lincecum, and Alex Rodriguez. And others, too. Paul Konerko has only one card. Matt Holliday and Shin-Soo Choo? One card each. Same for Jose Altuve, Anibal Sanchez, Josh Donaldson, and David Price.

Asking why there need to be so many different parallels and inserts for a set like Heritage is a question with no good answer. Instead, here are the different versions of non-relic/non-autograph cards:

1. Base card (500 cards)
2. Chrome (100 cards)
3. Chrome Refractor (same 100 cards as Chrome set)
4. Black Chrome Refractor (same 100 cards as Chrome set)
5. Gold Chrome Refractor (same 100 cards as Chrome set)
6. Purple Chrome Refractor (same 100 cards as Chrome set)
7. Walmart-exclusive Blue Border (25 subjects)
8. Target-exclusive Red Border (25 subjects)
9. Retail-exclusive Black Border (same 100 cards as Chrome set)
10. New Age Performers (20 subjects)
11. Base Action variation (25 subjects)
12. Base Logo variation (25 subjects)
13. Base Uniform variation (25 subjects)
14. Mini (100 subjects)
(I'm not counting the Black Back version of the base set, as every card on the base-set checklist is included.)

Some cards are easier to find than others. For instance, base-set SPs are seeded around one per three packs, while Mini cards show up one per case. And only some players are in some of the insert sets. For example, there are three cards in the Chrome sets that do not appear in the Mini set—Alfonso Soriano, Xander Bogaerts/Jonathan Schoop, and Nick Castellanos/Billy Hamilton. They are replaced in the Mini set by Jason Grilli, Austin Jackson, and Derek Holland.

So what gives with all this? Why are some players included in nearly every insert and parallel set, and others not represented anywhere? Well, Teixeira's been hurt. A-Rod's a pariah, banished for the season. And Lincecum has been mired in middle relief, a star in name only. But for the others—like the new-to-the-national-spotlight guys like Altuve and Donaldson—there are no good reasons for their exclusion. It's just a quirk of this year's set, one that will probably be corrected in 2015's edition.

The Emmisary of Class

Alex Rodriguez, 2005 Topps

What makes a classy emissary? Excellent question, me.

Emissary is defined by the Internet as "A person sent on a special mission, e.g., as a diplomatic representative, or a shortstop turned third baseman." Classy is like when you are formal but without even trying or whatever. Put those two together and you have one classy-ass emissary.

Say it's 2004. Who do you think are the classiest emissaries of baseball right now? Remember, it's 2004. Billy Crystal? Ozzie Smith? Craig Counsel? All excellent, albeit wrong, guesses. Let's look at the back of this Alex Rodriguez baseball card and see if there are any clues. Why an Alex Rodriguez card? That in itself is a clue. Try and stay with me here.

Upon leaving Texas for NYC in an astonishing 2004 trade

Quick aside: I was in IKEA with my wife the day after the trade happened, and it wasn't until I walked past a copy of that day's Daily News while making my way through a barrage of fake kitchens did the trade really sink in GET IT? Neither here nor there, but I mention this only to remind everyone that IKEA is the worst.

Alex was called by Ranger's manager Buck Showalter "a good man with a pure heart."

That sounds like faint praise for a neighbor who was accused of shoplifting socks rather than a parting shot for a baseball player who just completed three consecutive seasons of 50+ home runs. Was it this early in his career that people were playing the role of Alex Rodriguez apologist as it pertained to his motives?

Reporter: Buck, now that he's gone, a lot of guys in the locker room are saying that Alex Rodriguez was a bad person with a black heart and also that maybe he eats kittens. Can you speak to that?

Buck Showalter: Not gonna take the bait, Karl. Alex is a good man with a pure heart.

Indeed, A-Rod is not only a great player, but one of the game's classiest emissaries.

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

Alex Rodriguez kneels before MLB Commissioner Bud Selig, head down

Selig: Wearing old British powder wig, holding baseball bat. And I hereby dub thee, Alexander Rodriguez, classy emissary of Major League Baseball. Taps each shoulder with bat.

Rodriguez: Rises slowly. It is an honor and a privilege, good sir. Oh, one thing I forgot to mention earlier ... not sure if it's a big deal or whatever, but ... I kind of did a bunch of steroids a while back ... we cool?

Selig: Hmmm. Were they absorbed in a classy manner?

Rodriguez: Oh no doubt. I wore a bow tie every time while using scientific terms like buttocks.

Selig: Then I see no issue. Now go forth on your special mission as a diplomat of this fine game, and preach its good tidings while maintaining your dignit-- wha ... what are you doing?

Rodriguez: Oh, just kissing myself in the mirror. Why, what's up? Were we not finished?

Let us now praise anonymous men

When players come into the league, they either do or do not live up to their hype. Doesn't matter who—Alex Rodriguez, Fred Lynn, Bob Hamelin, or Stephen Strasburg—it seems like everybody is subject to hype. (A great movie about this, in a roundabout way, is Sugar.)

But what about the guys who fly under the radar? Guys who just sort of show up? Where do they stand? In a world dominated by information, it's hard to imagine a player making it to the majors today without at least one news source commenting on his talent (or lack thereof).

I'm not old enough to remember John Doherty. His statistics suggest he didn't really belong in the major leagues, or the high minor leagues, for that matter, but he hung around the California Angels for parts of two seasons (1974, 1975), and triple-AAA for six others.

But you'd think someone must remember him, right? You'd think fans of the game or little kids collecting cards in the mid-1970s would know about John Doherty of the Angels. And maybe they do, but I'd venture a guess that the circle is relatively small—say, limited to the Los Angeles, California–area. The reason? This card of Doherty (1975 Topps) was his only Topps card. Ever.

And it's not a memorable card. The only reason I pulled it from a stack last night was because I didn't recognize the face or the name, and because his face was so close to the camera. Right away that's a bad sign, possibly meaning no photo of him in game-play action, or the batting cage, for that matter, was taken (though he's wearing a left-handed batting helmet). Even the signature (from his Topps contract) emblazoned across his neck is hurriedly scrawled, as if Doherty, too, was surprised by the dumb luck of his being called up.

The game's history is filled with "cup of coffee" guys. For some players, that means one inning of mop-up duty, or a few games as a fourth outfielder. For others, it's parts of a few seasons, or an exceptional first season followed by a disappointing second. And then nothing.

We will remember Stephen Strasburg, no matter how he performs in the majors, just like we remember Clint Hurdle and Brien Taylor.

But John Doherty? All I can say is, Who?

The Tao of Fred McGriff - Day 10

Back in 2003, the popular rumor in Boston was that the Red Sox, White Sox, and Rangers were going to put together a three-team trade that would send Manny Ramirez to Texas, Nomar Garciaparra to Chicago, and Magglio Ordonez and Alex Rodriguez to Boston. Nobody knows for sure what would've happened had that trade gone through, but for a minute or two there I could see A-Rod and Ordonez in Sox uniforms.

There have been other players whom I thought would end up on the Sox one way or another (Todd Helton is at the top of that list), but one guy I never saw on the Red Sox was Fred McGriff. Maybe it's because I was raised on the Lou Gorman-led Sox ("What would we do with Willie McGee?"), but the Sox already had Mo Vaughn at first. What would we have done with Fred McGriff?

My grandfather grew up in a small town in South Dakota. His sisters were the switchboard operators for the town, and his father the postman and local semi-pro baseball team manager. He likes to tell the story of how, towards the end of one season, his father lured a star pitcher away from a rival team. And then, instead of pitching him in the big games that followed, kept him on the bench. When asked why he would do that, my grandfather laughs and says that his dad had the luxury of not using the star pitcher--as long as he wasn't pitching for the other team.

And when the A-Rod and Ordonez trades fell through, what did the Yankees do? Did they say "Why do we need A-Rod when we already have Derek Jeter?"

This is one of those little things that we with the Lou Gorman mindset never figure out: having Mo Vaughn at first and Fred McGriff, be it at DH or lounging on the bench, perhaps could've pushed the Sox closer to the pennant. Instead we defensively scoff at even considering the possibility.

How Much is $1 Worth?

(Hold on to this idea for a moment: New York City has a very large diplomatic community, many of whom live and work in the city on very low salaries.)


Barring a major meltdown, Alex Rodriguez will play for the Yankees in 2008. It's also generally accepted that the total compensation of his new deal will eclipse the mammoth contract he signed back in 2001 with the Texas Rangers. And while Rodriguez's new contract will take care of the next ten generations of his family, why did he sign for so much? Is he that insecure about his ability? Or are the Steinbrenners that nervous that he'd jump to a rival? (And for the record, much of the Red Sox fan base hates Rodriguez with such a passion that it would have been a very risky move had the Sox tried to sign him.)

Signing for that much not only makes him look greedy beyond compare, it forever boxes him into a corner: if he screws up, he's a monstrously overpaid duffer. If he wins the MVP but fails in the postseason, he's a major letdown. And in the unlikely situation that the Yankees win the World Series despite his usual unfocused postseason performance, he's a deadweight. He's put himself in a no-win situation.

It's come out that Warren Buffett advised Rodriguez to sidestep his agent and approach the Yankees on his own. Now let's go back to my original thought. What if Rodriguez had gone down to Tampa, cap in hand, and asked for a symbolic salary of, say, $1?

I don't know how long Buffett talked to Rodriguez. But hopefully the idea of doing well versus doing good came up. If he had signed for a symbolic $1 salary, not only would he have become the ultimate Yankee and consummate international baseball diplomat overnight, Rodriguez would have set the press and the public on its ear, showing them that he was really playing for love of the game.

What is he playing for now?