January 27, 2011

Baseball: The Early Years
by Harold Seymour
A Baseball Book Review

How much do you know about the history of the game of baseball? I thought I knew a lot, but after reading Baseball: The Early Years  by Harold Seymour (Oxford University Press 1960), it turns out that what I knew was just a lot of jumbled anecdotes, odd statistics, and answers to trivia questions. Reading Seymour's work, volume one in a series of three, is like sitting with a master of the history of the game.

As a game and as an idea, baseball is just about as American as you can get. In that, it's something (rounders) that already existed someplace else (England), that was adapted and tinkered with until it was different enough to be called an original creation. And though Organized Baseball (as the professional leagues came to be known) created and promoted the Abner Doubleday myth as a fictitious centennial in conjunction with the opening of the Hall of Fame in 1939, Seymour is completely thorough in researching the true creation of the game through its many eighteenth- and nineteenth-century incarnations: rounders, town ball, and base.


I had heard about this book because Zev Chafets mentions it as the de facto baseball history text for the library and research staff at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in his book Cooperstown Confidential: Heroes, Rogues, and the Inside Story of the Baseball Hall of Fame (Bloomsbury, 2010). Does it matter that Baseball was published in 1960, fifty-one years ago? Hardly. If anything, its age strengthens what it has to say. In 1960, the 1880s were only eighty years in the past; the history it describes was still relatively fresh.

It says on the dust jacket of my copy that "[Dr. Seymour] ... received a masters degree and Ph.D. from Cornell University, where he was the first to be awarded a doctorate for a thesis on the history of baseball." Though used mostly as a 'gee wilikers' nugget to help sell the book, this is an important point. Harold Seymour was not some ghost writer, some fly-by-night hack someone hired to write a book about baseball. He was a scholarly individual who happened to have firsthand experiences with professional baseball, and was interested in it and how it came to be the most-loved sport in the country.

I would recommend Seymour's Baseball not just because it's a thorough telling of the game's earliest days, but because it gives life to the men behind the history. It's a lively read, one full of characters each fully vested in the success of the sport. Men like the early amateur Knickerbockers, who were stubborn when faced with spreading the game across the country in a professional way, and power-wielding individuals like Al Spalding, Henry Chadwick, John M. Ward, and Bancroft Johnson. Or my new favorite nineteenth-century loose cannon, the Saint Louis Browns' Chris Von Der Ahe; he's well-deserving of his own biography.

There are very few baseball books that could be called 'definitive' without much argument. Harold Seymour's Baseball: The Early Years is on this very short list.

January 26, 2011

The Honorable Viola Presiding


Frank Viola, 1989 Fleer All Star Team

I am trying to determine whether or not the inset on the front of the card is supposed to be a gold medal with a red, white, and blue ribbon, but instead of a gold medal it’s a picture of Frank Viola. I think that is what this is supposed to be, and I like it. It's classy. I also think that during the Cy Young Awards ceremony—which does not exist, but should—in 1988, Frank Viola should have stood on the top pedestal wearing this medal with his headshot on it while the National Anthem played and his curly fro-mullet blew dramatically in the breeze (the ceremony is outdoors).

Anyway, raise your hand if you would like to learn more about Frank Viola’s 1987 and 1988 seasons in short, succinct sentences. Really? Everybody? Alright, let’s go!



1987 was Frank Viola’s dream season. 1988 was his best season.

Do we know for sure that 1987 was Frank Viola’s dream season, or are we making the assumption that winning a WS title was Viola’s dream? And even if Viola asserted as much publicly, maybe in his heart he was like, “Winning a title was cool, but my dream has been to dominate mo fos! I’m livin’ the dream in ’88!”

Although Viola did not experience the post season glory that highlighted 1987, he enjoyed a regular season in that it was the envy of every other starting pitcher in the American League.

Another assumption. For what it’s worth, Roger Clemens posted a comparable WAR that season (6.7 to Viola’s 7), ERA (2.93 to 2.64), had a hundred more strikeouts, double the amount of complete games, more innings-pitched, six more shutouts, and gave up fewer home runs. He finished sixth in the Cy Young vote, by the way. Sixth. Behind Bruce Hurst. Also, Roger Clemens envies no one, especially a dude with a curly fro-mullet named after an instrument who lives in Minnesota. Just saying.

By the All-Star break, Viola had already amassed 14 wins. He was named the American League’s starting pitcher in the All-Star game. That was a high honor.

Really? Being a starting pitcher in Major League Baseball’s All-Star Game is a high honor? Who knew? I thought anybody could do that. To be sure, I looked it up, and it is indeed a high honor, one of the highest in fact:

Top Six Highest of Worldwide Honors in Descending Order

(Note: there are only six anyway)

6) Receiving an honorary degree from a university because you became famous for reasons that have nothing to do with your education at that university or any other
5) Your name on the Hollywood or any local “Walk of Fame”
4) Being a starting pitcher for either side, but preferably the American League, in MLB’s All-Star Game
3) Boy or Girl Scout “Badge of Heroism in the Face of Bears”
2) Purple Heart
1) Being knighted because you are a musician

I’d like to learn more about Frank Viola, but who has the time? So, in an effort to streamline things, I have collected only the best, most-informative, and succinct sentences from this tidbit and combined to form one, better tidbit. You can thank me later.

1987 was Frank Viola’s dream season. 1988 was his best season. In 1988 Frank Viola was the best pitcher in the American League. That was a high honor. Viola is especially effective at the Metrodome.

As a result of this edited tidbit, I was recently awarded the gold medal of succinctness by the National Committee of Blog Writers during their annual ceremony in Lisbon, OH. It was a medium honor.

January 25, 2011

Five Years




From the cluttered desk of The Baseball Card Blog


Five years ago I started writing this little blog. What began as a fun idea quickly became a large obsession for me as I wrote, collected, and generally did my part to cultivate the presence of baseball cards and baseball card collecting on the Internet. Lucky for me, lots of others felt the same way I did about these little pieces of cardboard, and soon the Web was buzzing with collectors in conversation.

The past five years have flown by on this blog, and what I love most about the Internet is the archive nature of it. I love that content generated years ago is still available with a few clicks of the mouse. I also find it fun that for all the high-tech mathematics and old fashioned jockeying for position within search engines, typing "1987 Topps" into Google, Yahoo! or Bing will still return a post I wrote in June 2006 within the first few results.

So what will the next five years bring at The Baseball Card Blog? Well, hopefully more fine writing about baseball cards. New co-writer Mike Kenny has contributed more than his share of that, providing us with some of the funniest insights into the topic anywhere; this blog is more than lucky to have him.

What else? Well, this year there will be more involvement from me. I'm going to start writing more often, contrasting Mike's insane bombast with more tempered reviews of baseball books and posts about my current obsession: the 1956 Topps baseball set.

It's a different, better, more amazing baseball card landscape on the Internet now than it was in 2006. And though there are literally hundreds of card blogs out there, I hope you'll continue to read ours.

Regards,
Ben

January 19, 2011

The Personals


Steve Avery, 1992 Leaf "Studio"

Let’s visit Steve Avery in the Studio, where he enjoys relaxing and forgetting about baseball for a while by removing his baseball hat.



PERSONAL: Steven Thomas Avery bats left and throws left…He was born 4/14/70 in Trenton, MI, and now resides in Taylor, MI…He is single.

Ladies, please form a line to the left, which is the direction from which your potential suitor throws and bats. Now, do you girls like Trenton, Michigan? I caaaan’t heeeear youuuuu! Okay, good. Now raise your hand if you’ve dated a major leaguer before. Go ahead, don’t be shy … we’re gonna find out eventually. Okay, you ladies with your hands up? You can leave. Steven Thomas Avery may be the fourth starter in a powerhouse rotation, but he’s the only ace in his relationships.

UP CLOSE: Hobbies are golf and fishing

I am shocked. An Atlanta Braves pitcher enjoys golf and fishing? I honestly … I just, I’m speechless. Just when you think you have someone figured out. Golf and fishing? I had Steve Avery pegged for a “break-dancing and juggling” kind of guy.

…Favorite group is Tesla (hard rock);

Would you like a mulligan on that one, Steven? No? Nobody should have been asked to name his favorite group in 1992—it’s not fair. Still though, if you want to stick with Tesla, I guess that’s fine, too. It’s hard to argue with loving a band whose Wikipedia page has a section called, “Bust a Nut and hiatus (1994-1999).” I mean, how do you not take a hiatus after busting a nut?

dessert is strawberry cheesecake…Once worked as a lifeguard


This is tmi. I have a disturbing image in my head of Steve Avery sitting shirtless on a lifeguard stand, eating strawberry cheesecake, and listening to Tesla on his walkman.

Would most like to meet Abe Lincoln.

That is going to be difficult, Steven. I do enjoy, however, your clever avoidance of clichés. Everyone always goes with Taft.

So there you have it, ladies. He plays baseball, fishes, and golfs, so he’ll never be home. He was once CPR certified and he likes strawberry cheesecake. Put your best face forward—he’s not going to be single for long.

January 12, 2011

He Is Legend


Charles Johnson, 1996 Fleer, "Tomorrow's Legends"

Surely we have all heard of “future stars.” It is both comical and sad to look back on future stars who never were, and lament other peoples’ inexplicable inability to accurately foresee into the baseball future. Truth be told, it seems as though baseball cards in particular are more often wrong than right when it comes to forecasting a player’s ability at the big league level. The anticipation of what could be sells cards though, and that is, I guess, the whole point?

In that vein, Fleer threw caution to the wind. Future stars? Pfft. How about “Tomorrow’s Legends.” The way Fleer figured it, legends > stars. Also, tomorrow is sooner than the future. Who wants a star a few years from now when they can have a legend tomorrow? But how can one predict the often-indefinable qualities and outside circumstances that constitute a legend-in-the-making? Easy.

Fleer utilized the “quadrant formula” in order to determine whether or not a specific player would become a legend of tomorrow. This formula is exemplified here, on the front of this very card. To wit:

Does Charles Johnson have a baseball glove? Check.

Does Charles Johnson play baseball, like the old timers did, by throwing the ball, catching it, and also hitting the ball sometimes? Check.

Does Charles Johnson play baseball with baseballs, and on a baseball field? Check.

Does Charles Johnson live on earth, preferably North America? Check.

Bam. Legend. Of tomorrow. What else does this card have to say?



The Marlin with the “Golden Gun,”

Indeed Charles Johnson had a rocket arm and was an awesome defensive catcher. But this reads weird to me because fish don’t carry guns. If he played for the Florida Cowboys, that would be a great lede. Then again, fish don’t have arms, so I’m not sure how this would work. Maybe, “The Marlin who spears baserunners with his dorsal thingee … “ Yeah, that’s better.

Charles Johnson’s awakening at the plate

Charles Johnson had an awakening at the plate? When did this happen? What was it like? In looking at his statistics, this awakening, which must have occurred before 1996, caused him to hit the ball pretty much the same as he always had. Cool! It was the “awakening of a legend … “

has made him a terror to opposing pitchers

.251 BA / .351 OBP / .410 SLG / .761 OPS = terror.

as well as baserunners.

Charles Johnson’s awakening at the plate made him a terror to baserunners? Hmmm. How so? Possibly he was hitting the ball very hard and in the direction of the baserunners? In which case he would be causing injury to his own teammates? That doesn’t seem very nice.

Then again, true legends aren’t always the nicest guys, I am told.

January 05, 2011

Men Who Are Dawgs


Ben Grieve, 1997 Skybox "Little Dawgs"

Seen here is famous “Little Dawg” Ben Grieve, part of Skybox’s “Dugout Access” series, in which we receive exclusive dugout access in the form of a baseball card. This past summer, I wore this card around my neck and attempted to enter the Diamondbacks dugout in order to figure out why the team was so horrible at baseball. I was stopped at the door by a security guard, who did not grant me access as a result of these credentials. I was informed that my Ben Grieve “Little Dawgs” baseball card, part of the “Dugout Access” series, only granted dugout access in the sense that the information contained on the back of the card was supposed to make me feel as though I were in the actual dugout. I was disappointed.

Many people know Ben Grieve as “Ben Grieve.” People close to him, however, know him as “Little Dawg,” with a “w.” And by people close to him, I mean “people who do not know his actual name.” And by people I mean Barry Larkin:



What is a “LITTLE DAWG”?


Excellent question. I do want to mention that the question mark should be inside the quotes, but again, we are dealing with DAWG in ALL CAPS spelled with a “W,” so I will let that one pass.

Major League teams invite as many as 70 players to Spring Training each year. With so many players, it’s sometimes difficult to learn everybody’s name, so Barry Larkin simply refers to the players he doesn’t recognize as “Little Dawgs.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Spring training, ’97, A’s versus Reds. Ben Grieve doubles off the right field wall, and pulls up to second base. Standing there is Reds shortstop Barry Larkin.

Larkin: Nice hit, Little Dawg. (Slaps Ben Grieve on the butt with his glove.)

Grieve: Thanks. What?

Larkin: I said, “Nice hit, Little Dawg.”

Grieve: Okay, yeah. What’s a “Little Dawg?”

Larkin: You, man. You’re a Little Dawg.

Grieve: What? Why?

Larkin: Because I don’t know your name. Man, do you know how many players they invite to spring training? 70! And that’s each team! Times 70 by 30 and that’s a million Little Dawgs. I can’t be remembering all types of names and stuff. I’m Barry Larkin!

Grieve: My name is Ben.

Larkin: That’s cool. Listen, don’t feel bad, Little Dawg. My brother-in-law is a Little Dawg too, and that dude’s been married to my sister, what's-her-face, for like 30 years. That’s 10 in dawg years. Ha! Get it?

Grieve: Yeah. Good one. But don’t you think you should at least try to remember some people’s names? I mean, I’m a grown man, and I think I’m a good player—as does every other guy out here—and it’s kind of condescending to be equated with an annoying chihuahua.

Larkin: You Little Dawgs are crazy! You should feel lucky a player of my stature is even speaking to you. You see your boy Little Dawg over there? (Points to A's dugout ...)

Grieve: McGwire?

Larkin: Yeah. What does he call you?

Grieve: (Hangs head in shame.) He won’t speak to me.

Larkin: Exactly. But me? You’re my Little Dawg! C’mere. Gimmie a hug.

The two men hug at second base.

Grieve: Mr. Larkin?

Larkin: Call me Barry.

Grieve: Barry, what will you call me if I win “Rookie of the Year” this year?

Larkin: Hmmm. How about “Frank?” All you white guys look like Franks.

Grieve: Okay, deal.

December 29, 2010

Blue chip guile


Steve Chitren, 1991 Fleer Ultra Prospects Series

This is Steve Chitren. Here is a riddle: How do you know a kid can throw?



You know a kid can throw when he is a highly regarded Major League prospect

Oh, okay! Makes sense.

for an already bullpen-rich Oakland team.

I have to admit, I love the ol’ roundabout grammatical “You know X can Y because Z”-formula, especially when “Z” is something less than succinct and to the point, and when “Y” should be implied by “X’s” career choice. Personally, I would have gone with: You know a kid can throw when he throws baseballs for a living. Now that is a lede. I greatly enjoy the term “bullpen-rich” by the way, and would like to record a baseball-themed rap album called, “Get Bullpen-Rich or Die Tryin.’” I would like the chorus of one of my tracks to be nothing but the latest and hippest DJ scratching a sample of Joe Morgan saying, “There are no bullpen-rich teams anymore,” which is something I assume he has said many times. Anyway, back to this Chit…ren.

Steve’s credentials are impeccable. At Huntsville,

So many great success stories have started this way. Here is the first scene of a screenplay I have just now created.

In the top floor of a high-rise office building in the middle of Manhattan, two handsome men in designer suits sit across from one another in a beautifully-furnished office with a view, separated only by a Brazilian hardwood desk. Ronald McMurray looks at the white piece of paper in front of him with a slight smirk, occasionally nodding his approval. Martin VanSussman sits with his hands folded, patiently but nervously, staring longingly at the “McMurray, Weiner & Wannamaker” insignia on the back wall. McMurray leans back in his chair and gently tosses the paper onto his desk. He looks out the window, and for a brief moment, into the future. He turns to VanSussman. “Your credentials are impeccable,” he says. “Tell me about Huntsville.”

That was fun. Let’s find out though how Chitren fared initially in the majors:

In eight games, Chitren used his guile and grace to take 19 batters down swinging in 18 innings and earn his first Major League win.

I can understand using guile to take down 19 batters swinging in 18 innings. A feat like that would, inherently, require at least a little guile. I would, however, like an additional explanation re: grace. Were the batters so in awe of the gracefulness with which Steve Chitren threw baseballs that they could not maintain their focus? Or did Steve Chitren execute his pitches with the grace of God by his side? I guess, either way –- that is some serious grace.

This guy is as blue-chip as they come

I realize that the media’s influence in 1991 wasn’t nearly what it is today, where we are subjected to hype of Strasburgian proportions. Still, this seems like an exaggeration to me.

and with the possible movement of Todd Burns to the starting rotation, Steve may get his big chance just two years removed from his appearance in the College World Series with Stanford.

I am confused. Is the “big chance” being the seventh-inning guy out of the bullpen for the Oakland A’s? I feel like there might be a bigger chance out there. Allow me, if I may, to rewrite this lede once more:

You know a kid can throw when his biggest career opportunity is predicated on the potential promotion of Todd Burns.

There. Better.

December 22, 2010

The Man Who Wasn't There


Bob Lillis, 1986 Topps

Here is the ever-popular managerial baseball card. What kid doesn’t want one of these? I feel like somewhere in Brooklyn a sarcastic hipster has taken it upon himself to organize baseball-card-trading parties featuring only managerial cards, and everybody has to wear the full uniform of his favorite team, and everyone must spit tobacco and/or smoke, and drink whiskey, and say old-timey manager things like, “Get Johnson outta there, fer cryin’ out loud!” I would like to attend one of these parties.

What makes this particular card more special than most is the fact that Bob Lillis was not the manager of the Astros in 1986. He was fired before the end of the 1985 season and replaced with Hal Lanier, who actually went on to win Manager of the Year in '86. It appears then that Topps lazily produced its 1986 set in the summer of ’85—“How much is gonna change, really?” they figured—which preceded its future campaign of lazily asking players to pose during spring training of the actual season in question. Topps: working hard for your child’s hard-earned money!

You would think the company would have rectified this error for 1987, but featured on its ’87 “Astros Leaders” card was bench coach Yogi Berra. This continued Topps’ bizarre campaign of refusing to acknowledge that Hal Lanier managed/led the Houston Astros during this time period. Lanier, it should be mentioned, once cut Timmy Topps—the enthusiastic son of company CEO Thompson Topps—from Houston’s Single A-affiliate, the Jacinto City Jacintos. So, there was that.

Anyway, with regards to this particular card, it could be noted that Lillis is well aware of his impending fate, as he stares into the stands and contemplates what the future holds. “Possibly they will make me DEAN OF THE ASTROS instead,” he thinks, hoping against hope. Oh, what is “DEAN OF THE ASTROS” you ask?





I don’t know either. But it sounds awesome. If somebody has card # 186, please send it my way. But only if it features somebody who is not Bob Lanier wearing glasses and sitting at a desk in a formal office, trying to decide which applicants to admit to the Houston Astros and drafting an eviction notice for Kevin Bass, who has been partying way too hard off campus.

December 15, 2010

Scott Ruskin Of All Trades


Scott Ruskin, 1991 Score

I like Scott Ruskin. And I like a card that tells me what I should think.



Wouldn’t you think that a first baseman-outfielder who hit .355, .297., 301 and .292 in his first three minor league seasons would deserve a shot at the major leagues?


Well, the first thing I would think is: Four averages in three seasons is reason alone to become a major leaguer, especially if you’re a first baseman-outfielder. Then I would think: You don’t need a decimal point before and after an average. Then I would think: Not really. I mean, those averages are pretty good, I guess, but they are just averages and I have never seen this hypothetical person play and thus do not feel comfortable saying that he deserves a shot that approximately .000001 percent of the population deserves.

Well, you’re right

Really? Cool!

and Scott was on the Opening Day ’90 roster of the Pirates –


Oh, okay. That is a rather long-winded means of informing me that the Major League Baseball card I am holding features a Major League Baseball player.

as a pitcher!

The hat that I was wearing just blew off my head and my bulging eyes just fell out of my face. Besides the fact that Scott Ruskin is pitching on the front of this card, I couldn't have been more caught off guard.

How could that be, you ask?

I didn’t ask that. But: Because he pitches, too? I realize that sounds unfathomably insane, but I had to guess something.

Deciding that his best course was from the pitchers mound, he switched in ’89, developed a tremendous curveball and by season’s end was voted the Carolina League pitcher with the best breaking pitch.

Said Scott Ruskin, “Despite what my okay batting averages might suggest, I kind of suck at hitting relative to my peers in this profession. I am going to be a pitcher instead, and develop a freakin’ awesome curveball that will be declared the best breaking pitch of the Carolina League, which isn’t even an award but will become an award because that’s how awesome my curveball is going to be. Eventually, this will attain me a brief career in the bullpens of several major league franchises, which sarcastic bloggers can poke fun at all they want, but which will earn me hundreds of thousands of dollars. After that’s over, I will return to school and get my degree in computer and information science, at which point I will invent software that enables companies to blah, blah, blah—why I’m an even bothering? Whatever I do will be awesome. Enjoy writing about your never-ending supply of Score baseball cards and the zero dollars it earns you.”

Hey man, I don’t do it for the money! I do it for the … comments? I don’t like Scott Ruskin anymore.

December 08, 2010

UD3 & The Establishment


Kenny Lofton, 1999 UD3

Do you like baseball? Do you like technology? Do you like colors and shapes and lines and dots and stuff? Do you like half a pair of sunglasses? Do you like Kenny Lofton? Do you like looking at something that is so overloaded with data and sensory devices that you feel as though you are being transported into another dimension? No? Maybe? You’re not sure? Possibly? Well then have I got the card for you!

This card looks like something Kanye West would wear to the Grammys. Here are the thoughts that go through my head as I look at this card: Red means stop, green means go. Circle. Green blinds. I am blind. Star! Linear. That’s all folks! Lightening. Inception. And so on and so forth. All of these things serve as an adequate distraction from the reality that one is holding a 1999 Kenny Lofton card, and not a 1994 Kenny Lofton card, or a (any year) (any other player) card. Still, it’s a little much.

This is part of the UD3 series, Upper Deck’s ULTIMATE EXTREME experiment to fuse together everyone’s two favorite things: 1) baseball, and 2) random objects that seemingly serve to represent advancements in technology. Also, take note:



Upper Deck, UD3 and the card-hologram combination are trademarks of The Upper Deck Company, LLC.

In layman’s terms this means: In the event that you have not spontaneously combusted or simply stopped liking baseball altogether as a result of viewing this card, we do not recommend that you attempt to copy this formula in order to make a profit, as it is not only illegal, but also harmful, as replicating this card correctly involves traveling to the year 2002, a time in which we live in a linear universe and Kenny Lofton is known as “The Establishment.” THAT is how far ahead of our time we are. You’ve been warned. Sincerely, Upper Deck.

By the way, I twisted this card every which way and it is not a hologram. At least not in the sense that it reveals a different but equally impossible-to-distinguish image. Like a real hologram should. Kind of makes me miss the good ol' days.