When an All-Star is not an All-Star: NL edition

If you were like me, you blindly accepted the Topps All-Star team subsets as factual representations of real life. In the Topps universe, Shane Rawley and Dwight Gooden were All Stars in 1987, since they were included in its 1988 All-Star subset. And yet, neither of them was an All Star in 1987.

Rawley was an All Star in 1986, and he did have a great 1987 season, posting a career-best 17 wins for the mediocre Phillies. But that's not the point. The point is that Topps unilaterally decided that the voters got it wrong when they put pitchers not named Rawley or Gooden on the team. Or maybe Topps didn't want to make an All-Star card of Sid Fernandez? It's all unclear, but it got me thinking.

Just how many of Topps's 1988 All Stars were actually on the 1987 teams? Let's look at the starting lineups.

1. Eric Davis                   LF       1. Rickey Henderson             CF
2. Ryne Sandberg                2B       2. Don Mattingly                1B
3. Andre Dawson                 CF       3. Wade Boggs                   3B
4. Mike Schmidt                 3B       4. George Bell                  LF
5. Jack Clark                   1B       5. Dave Winfield                RF
6. Darryl Strawberry            RF       6. Cal Ripken                   SS
7. Gary Carter                   C       7. Terry Kennedy                 C
8. Ozzie Smith                  SS       8. Willie Randolph              2B
9. Mike Scott                    P       9. Bret Saberhagen               P

For the National League, Dawson, Smith, Clark, and Steve Bedrosian got Topps All-Star cards, and over in the American League, Randolph, Bell, Winfield, Mattingly, Boggs, and Tom Henke got cards. Tony Gwynn, Juan Samuel, Tim Raines, and Tim Wallach, represented in the Topps All-Star lineup, were NL reserves, and Kirby Puckett, Matt Nokes, and Alan Trammell, all three Topps All Stars, were reserves for the American League. But Benny Santiago? Not an All Star. Roger Clemens? Not an All Star. Jimmy Key? Dwight Gooden? Nope and nope. And no Shane Rawley, either.

The other side of that meant that Eric Davis, Ryne Sandberg, Mike Schmidt, Darryl Strawberry, Gary Carter, Mike Scott, Sid Fernandez, Mark Langston, Rickey Henderson, Cal Ripken, Terry Kennedy, and Bret Saberhagen weren't in the regular Topps All Star subset. (They were included in the Glossy All-Star mail-away set and the glossy All Stars found in rack packs, but so what? Not everybody had the cash to send away for the larger All Star set, and it wasn't a guarantee that your drugstore carried rack packs (which were also more expensive than wax packs).)

One of Topps's "things" would be to include an All-Star right-handed starting pitcher and an All-Star left-handed starting pitcher in their All Star subset. So for the NL, these should have been Mike Scott (RHP) and Sid Fernandez (LHP). And for the AL, Bret Saberhagen (RHP) and Mark Langston (LHP). So, because they should exist, here are your 1988 Topps National League All Stars.

 

Power Center

Kirby Puckett & Eric Davis, 1989 Fleer, SuperStar Specials

Here is a picture card of baseball players Kirby Puckett and Eric Davis crossing paths at the pre-game for the All-Star Game and pretending to sort of speak to one another for the sole purpose of this very picture card.

Hey, so uhhh, they take this pic yet?
Pfft.
Okay, how’s a … your family? You got a family?
Not kids, man. Ain’t tryin’ to hear that. Got like, aunts and stuff though.
Oh, word? They cool?
They cool, they cool.
CLICK.
Alright I’m out, peace.

The title of this card is POWER CENTER. That is because both of these fellas play center field and also they have power that is famously generated from their respectively strong/large abdomens (and, in Davis' case, wrists). POWER CENTER.



When it comes to playing the outfield, Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins and Eric Davis of the Cincinnati Reds come front and center

How so? Like on a theatrical stage or as part of The Dairy Queen Trilogy? No, that can’t be it. How about:

When it comes to playing the outfield, Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins and Eric Davis of the Cincinnati Reds come front and center … centerfold, that is, because of their hot bodies.

No?

When it comes to playing the outfield, Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins and Eric Davis of the Cincinnati Reds come front and center … center on a basketball team that is, because that is also a sport that maybe they play sometimes.

Almost?

When it comes to playing the outfield, Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins and Eric Davis of the Cincinnati Reds come front and center … circumcenter, that is, because they are both circumcised, prolly.

Getting warmer? Okay, hit me with the realness.

When it comes to playing the outfield, Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins and Eric Davis of the Cincinnati Reds come front and center … center field, that is.

Mind = blown. I never saw that one coming, but it makes perfect sense. Give me more.

His 234 hits also topped the majors for the second consecutive season, and that was the best total for an AL right-handed hitter since Al Simmons had 253 in 1925—sixty-three years ago!

Thank you for doing the math there, card, because “1925” on its own held no weight for me. I don’t know if 1925 was yesterday or when dinosaurs lived. Also, the exclamation point was a pleasant, subtle touch, and really drove home the amazing fact that Kirby Puckett achieved the glorious feat of having twenty less hits than Al Simmons for the first time since zero players did that, or something.

It was the most for a right hand batter in either league since Joe Medwick had 237 for the Cardinals in 1937—fifty-one years ago!

Geez, and I thought 61 years ago was a long time ago; how about 51 years ago! Truly, the value of Kirby Puckett’s baseball ability is best described by the time that has elapsed since different plays did similar things in a different era when everything was different.

What about Davis?

He hit 26 home runs, and at one stretch during the season he had four before any of his teammates hit one.

Small sample size, flukey, neither here nor there, Kal Daniels was second-best for the season on the Reds with 18 home runs, so using his teammates as a measuring stick for Davis’ power is rather pointless, and this is stupid. But other than those things, that is the most amazing thing I have ever read, and it eventually led to this newspaper lede from 1988.

CINCINNATI – Paul O’Neill led the Reds in home runs yesterday with one, which is the most for a Reds batter since Eric Davis hit two on Wednesday—two days ago! One could say that, with regards to O’Neill, all is right … right field that is.

A Tale of Four Wrists

Eric Davis, 1991 Score, "The Franchise"

Don’t get me wrong—never once in my whole life did I ever question my unrelenting admiration for one Donald Arthur Mattingly, nor did I ever wish I had latched on to a different baseball player for such a one-sided endeavor of unconditional love. That said, if, during this time, some unbelievably unfortunate circumstance had forced me, kicking and screaming violently, to set my Donnie aside—gasp!—and choose another, if only so that my family could survive—bastards!—and this “other” could not be a member of my chosen team—sorry, Pags!—then, and only then, I would have chosen … Eric Davis.

Why, you ask? Let’s let Score explain:



Even in a season like 1990 when Eric was hampered by bad knees and a bum shoulder, he is the man who can make a difference.

Say it’s a year like 1990, and you’re sitting at home in your Skidz overalls with your bad knees and bum shoulder, thinking to yourself, “I don’t feel like making a difference today … look at me! Ugh!” Then you turn on the television only to see that Eric Davis, the baseball player, has hit 24 home runs and stole 21 bases and has an OPS+ of 123 despite similar ailments. “Did that make a difference?” you wonder. Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask the World Series.

The most talented player in the game,

No offense to Eric Davis, but people say this like Mattingly couldn’t steal bases or hop over outfield walls to rob home runs. I mean, Mattingly chose to not to steal because his advanced sabermetric mind told him not to. (Smartability is now the sixth tool.) Besides, Mattingly beat an ostrich in a race back in ’87. It was on Fox. Then he jumped over the ostrich to rob a home run, except the ball was an ostrich egg. You didn’t see it? It was awesome.

Eric came through when it counted, hitting a solid .280 in the second half of the season.

Coming through when it counts = having a batting average of .280 in the second half of the season. I just read that sentence over like, 30 times. The ratio of extremely boring thing said about extremely exciting player—boring thing/exciting player—is off the freakin’ charts. Literally, it is impossible to make a chart about this.

Here’s the thing. Eric Davis was awesome. Super fast, tons of power, exciting as heck to watch defensively, etc. But ask anyone from my generation of baseball fandom what they admired most about Eric Davis, and they’ll all tell ya’ the same thing—his remarkably strong wrists:

Eric’s remarkably strong wrists generate enormous power;

A lot of regular guys generate home runs with their arms, or chest, or legs, or bat, or head, or shoulders. Eric Davis? All wrists. In fact, many longtime baseball men-slash-wrist scientists believed they’d never see another player who could equal such remarkableness in the wrist department.

That is, until …



Mike Piazza, 2001 Topps Stadium Club

Goodness, gracious! Look at those … wrists!



ANALYSKILLS:

Let us recall that ANALYSKILLS are a complex formula of skills, analysis, the analysis of those skills, and the skills at obtaining such analysis.

Long, yet powerful stroke.

Not taking the bait.

Not taking the bait.

Not taking the bait.

Not taking the bait.

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID! Arg! I have no self-control.

… Big into weight training, but generates power from unusually strong wrists…

“Chapter 8: From Remarkably Strong To Unusually Strong: From Davis To Piazza: Baseball’s Power Wrists,” was the colon-filled title of one section of Ken Burns’ famous PBS documentary, “Baseball Stuff.” I also enjoy how Piazza generated power not from his weight lifting, but only from his wrists. What kind of adept analyskilltician made this observation? Kind of makes you wonder why Piazza continued to weight train. Was he so vain? Also, did the wrist exercises help? It’s the age-old question of wrist nature versus nurture. We’ll never really know.

We’ll never really know. (Frowny face.)

I Just Called, To Say, '792'

We're heading into the home stretch here people. And speaking of home stretch, I'll be at home for a stretch so look for little changes to The Blog that aim to increase your enjoyment (and its resourcefulness).

#601 - 650

601. Dave Dravecky, 1989
602. Gary Carter NL AS, 1987
603. Joe Morgan, 1983
604. Gary Pettis, 1986
605. Dennis Boyd, 1986
Why didn't Topps ever refer to him as 'Oil Can'? I could never figure that one out.

606A.+B. Don Mattingly AL AS, 1987
607. Tony Bernazard AL AS, 1987
608. Wade Boggs AL AS, 1987
609. Cal Ripken, Jr. AL AS, 1987
610. Jim Rice AL AS, 1987
611. Kirby Puckett AL AS, 1987
612. Dan Quisenberry, 1989
613. Lance Parrish AL AS, 1987
614. Roger Clemens AL AS, 1987
615. Robin Yount, 1989
616. Dave Righetti AL AS, 1987
This is Righetti in his full Muppet glory: mouth slightly open, eyes slightly closed, bushy hair; all that's missing is a Gandalf mustache and he's Floyd Pepper.

617. Willie Wilson, 1985
618. Lamarr Hoyt, 1983
619. Sergio Ferrer, 1980
620. Dwight Gooden, 1985 (RC)
621. Frank Howard, 1984 (MGR)
622. Glenn Braggs, 1987 (RC)
623. Floyd Rayford, 1986
624. Fergie Jenkins, 1982
625. Eddie Murray, 1989
626. Tigers Team, 1980
627. Eric Davis, 1985 (RC)
I always forget that this card was a juggernaut for most of the Eighties. I even forgot about mentioning it in my review of the 1985 Topps set in the 1980s Countdown back in 2006.

628. Kirk McCaskill, 1986 (RC)
629. Charlie Lea, 1983
630. Steve Carlton, 1981
631. Bob Forsch, 1985
632. Bryan Harvey, 1989 (RC)
633. Jackie Gutierrez, 1986
This was one of the first cards I ever got.

634. Rafael Palmeiro, 1987 (RC)
635. Bobby Bonds, 1981
This is probably one of the best photos ever. You know, the 1981 set is chock full of fantastic candids of guys on the bench.

636. Phillies Leaders, 1982
637. Bip Roberts, 1987 (RC)
638. Mike Pagliarulo, 1985 (RC)
639. Bo Diaz, 1986
If I remember this card correctly, Diaz is spry after a foul ball, replete with shadows lit for dramatic effect.

640. Dave Parker, 1981
641. Ed Kranepool, 1980
642. Mike Scioscia, 1982
643. Lloyd Moseby, 1981 (RC)
644. Terry McGriff, 1988 (RC)
645. Matt Nokes, 1988 (RC)
646. Mike Moore, 1986
647. Randy Johnson, 1989 (RC)
648. Barry Larkin, 1987 (RC)
It's funny about Larkin. He's clearly one of the most overlooked rookies from the heralded 1987 rookie class, and yet he's probably one of the only guys who's a lock for the Hall of Fame.

649. DeWayne Buice, 1988 (RC)
650. Carl Yastzremski, 1982
Speaking of Yaz, for a guy only represented in four sets in the 1980s, he's all over The 792.


Give the Cardboard Junkie a little time, but he'll get the scans up. It'll be worth the wait, oh yes, quite worth it indeed.