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Dotty Kamenshek, 1993 Ted Williams Collection My Dotty Kamenshek card is probably my best 1940’s style female baseball card. Again, probably. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Dotty Kamenshek? Who the hell is that? I mean, I’ve heard of Kammie Kamenshek…are they related?” Excellent question. Turns out, Dotty Kamenshek actually is Kammie Kamenshek. Allow me to explain. Just because she had ovaries did not make Dorothy Kamenshek immune to the innovative brand of professional baseball nicknames, which simply involved adding an “eee” sound to the end of someone’s first name, or as some kind of variance of their last name. For example, Jorge Posada is often referred to as “Jorgie” (“Georgie” for Caucasians), Tim Hudson is “Huddy,” Jeff Francoeur is “Frenchy,” Curt Schilling is “Douchey,” and – to bring it back around to where I started – Dotty Kamenshek, obviously, is Kammie. In another lifetime – one in which professional female baseball had taken over the sports landscape as it has in ...

Jose Canseco, 1991 Score Jose Canseco was a Master Blaster. This may seem obvious from the above card, but not many people are aware of just how masterful Jose Canseco was at blasting. Allow the comic book-hero description on the back of this card to elaborate: Perhaps the most devastating and feared offensive force in baseball, Jose can destroy timid pitchers. Ummm, “perhaps?” Jose Canseco feasted on the endless carousel of timid Major League pitchers placed before him. You know the type - trembling as Jose approached the plate, pooping their pants, and curling up in the fetal position immediately after tossing Jose a 68mph meatball, only occasionally working up the courage to strike out Jose Canseco a mere 158 times in 1991. Yeah, that kind of timid. And just so you know, the use of the term “destroy” is quite literal in this case. In 1988, Jose Canseco hit a 700-foot home run off of Baltimore’s Doug Sisk, causing Sisk to spontaneously combust. But wait, there’s more: Tremendously s...

Beginning this week, my new column will start appearing in both of our papers…hooray beer! Here’s the gist: We publish two weekly papers here, The Glendale Star and The Peoria Times. My new column will be called – get ready for pure genius – “Big Time Sports, A-to-Z.” The “A-to-Z” part is a subtle nod to the state of Arizona! Sometimes I really don’t know where I come up with this stuff. It’s a gift, I guess. Anyhoo, for those who don’t know, the Arizona Cardinals play IN Glendale, and their new stadium is like, right down the street from where I work. They’re a huge part of the community here, and I’ll be “covering” them throughout the season. Besides Cardinals’ losses, I’ll also be covering other things that happen at the stadium, like Monster Truck Rallies and college admission exams! Well, not so much the latter, but the former is a strong possibility. I may even be covering the Phoenix Coyotes (that’s hockey, I think) and Spring Training when it rolls around again. I’ll be posting...

Roberto Alomar, 1991 Score This card holds a special place in the heart of all Mets’ fans, because it provides the foreshadowing that represents Roberto Alomar’s precipitous fall from grace. Here is Alomar in 1991, about to make a fabulous diving catch during one of those pitch-black games that made the San Diego Padres’ old ballpark – “the TerrorDome” – so famous. He already has three hits in this particular game, and is well on his way to establishing himself as one of the elite young players in the game (baseball). Unbeknownst to Alomar however, is the fact that a very steep cliff lies ahead. So like an idiot, he falls, and by the time he hits the bottom, he’s wearing a Mets uniform, is hitting .183, and has managed to disgrace his last name by spitting in an umpire’s face . Coincidentally, the look on Alomar’s face in this picture is the exact same expression I had when I first watched the highlight of him hocking a loogie in another grown man’s face. In fact, when Robert Alomar f...

Rusty Kuntz, 1984 Topps I think I was about eleven years old when one of my friends told me about a player named Rusty Kuntz. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed…all the while not really knowing what was so funny. (I was a late bloomer.) Amazingly, Rusty Kuntz never crossed my mind since then. (Yikes…remind to re-word that last sentence later.) Fast forward almost 20 years to the other day, when my friend Bruce sends me an email with a Rusty Kuntz card attached, imploring me to get it on the blog. Since this is a family blog, I was obviously hesitant to do so. But then I said to myself, “Hey, who am I to judge Rusty Kuntz? Doesn’t he deserve a place on this blog alongside other immortals, like Garth Iorg and Glenallen Hill ?” Yes. Yes he does. Besides, it’s not my fault that the combination of “Rusty” and anything even remotely resembling a human body part is so darn hilarious! I’m just the messenger! Anyhoo, I decided to do a little research before posting, and it turns out that a) ...

This morning I woke up and had the realization, “Holy crap…I live in Arizona!” It’s strange how it works out. I mean, it was such a process getting here, and since we’ve arrived, we’ve been on a never-ending quest to replenish all of the things we threw away before we left. It’s been go-go-go for the past three months, and I’ve barely had the time to look up and notice where I’m at. The thoughts that normally occupy my mind – Yankees, me eat, Who farted? – have been replaced by questions like, “Should we return those pillows?” and “How much should 15 tons of granite cost?” There’s been little time for self-reflection these days, and even if there was time, I think I’d rather watch “Rock of Love.” But maybe because we’re sort of settling in – yesterday began my fourth full week of work – what we’ve actually done is starting to sink in. And the initial verdict is a positive one…so far, we really like it here. As with anything, there are positives and negatives. Besides the obvious negat...

Jose Offerman, 1991 Fleer Nothing puts a hop in my step like seeing a professional athlete pose to pretend like he’s playing the sport that he can be found playing for real any day of the week. And it seems like the ridiculousness of this scenario is not lost on Jose Offerman, who seems less than thrilled to be pretending to play shortstop, just minutes before he will be doing shortstoppy things for three consecutive hours. I think it’s pretty safe to say that Jose Offerman is giving it much less than the required 110% in this pose. For starters, he is matching the photographer’s overall laziness by refusing to bend down completely to snag that fake ground ball. I mean, that fake ground ball is going to go right under his glove , and straight into the outfield! E6! And speaking of the outfield, that is apparently where the shortstop position is located. That, or the Dodgers have their famous “shift” on, where the shortstop moves into left field, and the other three outfielders form a ...

Mike Perez, 1991 Topps Mike Perez made Jim Abbott look like Harvey “Three Arms” Johnson. Abbott- the one-time Yankee who was born without a right hand – was content using his left hand to pitch, making him no different than, say, Lefty Grove, or even Lefty Gomez, if Abbott was Spanish. Perez, on the other hand contrary – who, by the way, lost his right hand while trying to retrieve his golf ball from the windmill hole on a miniature golf course – said, “Screw it. I’m pitching with the stump.” And did he ever. Perez had a standard fastball and changeup, but his “out pitch” was his renowned “Mr. Stumpy,” in which he rested the ball on his shoulder, and then performed a windmill motion with his partial arm, thus catapulting the ball to home plate, or backwards into the outfield. The irony of the windmill motion was not lost on Perez, who decided to embrace his misfortune rather than complain about it, like Abbott. But how did Mike Perez make it to the big leagues? The back of the card ex...

Luis de los Santos, 1989 Donruss After playing the bad guy in " Ghost ," Luis de los Santos saw his worst fear come true - he began being typecast. He was asked to play a remorseless Spanish thief in several subsequent movies, including, "The Spanish Thief," "El Thief de los Espana," and "When Harry Met Sally." Frustrated by his acting career, Luis decided to pull a Miguel de los Jordin, and persue his first love - gambling. That didn't work. So Luis returned to acting, but remained committed to exploring new roles. When his agent sent him the script for "Major League," Luis pulled the pages to his chest, and wept for three days straight. He loved it! But a few things were lost in translation as far as the script was concerned, most notably the fact that the phrase "Cleveland Indians" translates, in Spanish, to "Royals de los Kansas City," mostly because the Dominican Republic refuses to recognize Cleveland as a ...

Pat Clements, 1987 Topps I bring up this card only because I am trying to figure out how it could possibly be worse. This is pretty much the most awful card I own. It brings nothing to the table. It's not even funny in the sarcastic sense, like the Pittsburgh Pirates in general. This is the most pointless card ever. Average player, no goofy name or pose, no stupid stats on the back...just terrible. I really don't even have anything to say about this card, except that I looked up the price of it in Beckett, and it's worth negative three cents. You are actually obligated to pay Topps three cents for every second you waste staring at it. And that's not even taking into account the fact that the guy in charge of the printing press the day this beauty was cut had apparently downed four gin & tonics at lunchtime. And I'd really like to know what supervisor gave this baby the green light, thus allowing it into circulation. I think I even recall, as a kid, taking solace...

Mark Davis, 1990 Upper Deck Few things bring as much joy to a baseball fan as opening a pack of cards and getting one that features an average player signing an autograph for someone else. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it. But when that picture is taken in the journalistic style of photography normally reserved for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs, well, that's when you've got something truly special on your hands. Don't you think for one second that the Upper Deck photographer who took this extraordinary shot didn't dirty his corduroy blazer doing so. Cause he did. And he almost got a tick, laying all up in the grass like that! But it was all worth it once the world was treated to this breathtaking photo of Mark Davis, signing autographs in the sky, his royal blue uniform amidst the sky blue of life, a curly mullet blowing in the wind...magnificence is an understatement. "Ewww, I just swallowed a cloud," is what Mark Davis could often be overheard s...

Dear Family & Friends: Camp is great. Please send money. Arizona is great. And by great I mean unbelievably hot. But also great. And hot. Some of you may be wondering why it's taken me so long to get back on this freakin' blog. And you can all shove it because call me when you move to Arizona in the 115-degree heat and you can't find your socks because the movers packed them with the remote for the DVD player by accident. Everyone knows you can't blog without socks. And a computer, which we actually did manage to pack in the correct box, which made it that much more convienent to throw away when it arrived. Yes, after joking about it on my previous post, our computer did not make it. But it did manage to relay one last message to me when I plugged it in for the last time: "Hi Mike! Welcome to Arizona! I hope you said your goodbyes, because you won't be communicating through me any longer. You don't play fantasy sports, do you? What? That sucks. Maybe y...

Just a note…I’m moving to Arizona this weekend, so this bliggity-blog will be on hiatus until I get settled in, and until I can afford a scanner to post more stupid baseball cards. Hopefully I will find the time (and a computer – ours is on a moving truck now, possibly never to be heard from again) to keep a diary of how things progress over the next couple of weeks. If you don’t hear from me in two weeks, just know that it’s about 112 degrees in Arizona right now, and I probably just passed out again . So send help. In the meantime, feel free to browse the archives and enjoy all of the riveting material I have posted over the past three-plus years. And keep in mind, when my hit-counter reaches 10,000, I’m going to throw a huge party in Arizona, and award a bean burrito to my 10,000th “customer.” Not really though. But still. See ya’ soon! Holla.

Mike Fischlin, 1987 Topps Hey, Mike Fischlin – I have an idea. Why don’t you choke up a little bit? Or, OR, why don’t you just run your hands halfway up the bat, so then if you swing, you can hit yourself in the chest at the same time? Wait, wait – I have a better idea. Why don’t you just use one of those miniature bats that they hand out to the fans on “bat day,” because that’s about as much power as you’re going to generate anyway standing there like that. Mike Fischlin represents an extinct species of baseball player: the utility player. The utility players of the 80s were special because they could suck at several positions instead of just one. For example, Fischlin “played” both shortstop and second base – the positions of note for utility players – which gave the Yankees plenty of leverage in case their starting shortstop or second baseman died. Fischlin was a moderate upgrade from putting a cardboard cut-out of Alvaro Espinoza at shortstop, as the “Fishmeister” (as they called h...

John Henry Johnson, 1987 Topps After signing the Declaration of Independence, John Henry Johnson was immediately drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers. Of course, I’m kidding – he was actually drafted by the Giants – obviously - and was eventually traded to the Brewers for 65 acres of land and the Senator of Virginia’s daughter. John Henry Johnson famously stunned the conservative American Congress by showing up to a weekly meeting wearing a wig that was not powdered white, which ironically was the origin of the “white afro,” which would ultimately be perfected by future American leaders such as Gallagher and Napolean Dynamite. Now, you may be wondering about John Henry Johnson’s baseball career, and asking yourself questions like, “How did John Henry Johnson develop such a love for the game of baseball?” That is an excellent question, and the back of this card can help explain: John Henry participated in Little League ball. Amazing, but true! It is not very often that you see a young boy ...

Kent Tekulve, 1988 Topps Kent Tekulve was the last underhanded pitcher in Major League history. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “How the heck did a guy throw underhanded in the big leagues and not got shelled every time out?” Well, let me tell you something – Kent Tekulve had a little zip on his granny pitch. Tim Raines once mentally clocked a Tekulve changeup (all of his pitches were changeups) at 38mph, which isn’t too shabby, considering the gun had clocked the pitch at 36mph. Also, Kent Tekulve pretty much got shelled every time out. In fact, in 1985, Tekulve made just three appearances out of the bullpen for the Pirates, finishing the season with a stellar 16.20 ERA, which is, simply put, Weaveresque . In addition to distinguishing himself as the only underhanded pitcher of a generation ever, Kent Tekulve also had the largest caboose in modern baseball history. Kent Tekulve was the J-Lo of baseball, except slightly less attractive and not as Latin. Actually, like J-Lo, his ba...

For the past couple of years I had written “preview” columns for the Spring Lake 5, a popular Memorial Day Weekend 5-mile road race in Spring Lake, NJ. All these columns really consisted of was me doling out “advice” on how to best to run the race, what to wear, and when to go to the bathroom. Ya’ know, stupid stuff…the usual. Before the race last weekend, my wife asked me why I hadn’t written a column for this year’s race. I told her that there really wasn’t anything left to say. Well, I ran the race this year, and as it turns out – there’s a lot left to say. I did not finish the Spring Lake 5 this year because I freakin’ collapsed near the finish line. Fantastic. Allow me to explain. As usual, my entire family was running in the race this year – parents, wife, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws… everybody . And as usual, we all met at my aunt and uncle’s house (they live in Spring Lake Heights) beforehand. There were donuts, muffins, coffee…all kinds of stuff that I prefer not t...

Tom Henke, 1988 Topps Tom Henke is the godfather of awesome 80s baseball cards, and there may be no better example of his greatness than this very card. For starters, this card proves that Tom Henke was not just great in the sarcastic sense – he was an actual all-star. It is virtually inconceivable to think that this guy was among baseball’s elite during an era that included Mattingly, Boggs, Puckett, Clemens, and many, many others. But nevertheless, let’s take a look at what truly made Tom Henke special. 1) Henke was a relief pitcher for a Canadian baseball team (the American dream, ironically). 2) When Henke smiled, his face bunched up in a manner that made it appear as though he was wearing one of those party hats with the strings that hurt your chin (equally awesome). 3) Tom Henke, rather brashly, ignored the ongoing trend of alternative visual aids, which presented the possibility of not wearing ridiculously humongous glasses while trying to perform athletic feats. During a time w...

*Special Friday edition Kevin Brown, 1999 Topps Hey, buddy, ya’ gonna take this friggin’ picture or what? You think I have all day here? I’m Kevin freakin’ Brown! Do you have any idea what that means? Ugh. Look at you. You’re like, thirty pounds overweight. No wonder you became a photographer. Hey, you look familiar…did I strike you out in high school? I did, didn’t I? I definitely struck you out. Now I remember. What’s your name? Is it Fatty McTripod? No? Too bad. That’s your name. For crying out loud, why is this taking so long?! It’s a beautiful day outside! Do you know how many things I could be doing right now instead of sitting here like a total jackass? I could be throwing a no-hitter right now. In my mind, I’m throwing a no-hitter right now , right in your freakin’ face! I could be signing a ridiculous multi-year contract right now. You are literally taking money out of my pocket this very second. You owe me a bazillion dollars. I could be punching a wall in a fit of rage right...

Cory Snyder, 1991 Score Who can forget Cory Snyder? I mean, besides everybody? More importantly, who can forget Cory Snyder’s laser, rocket arm? Cory Snyder was indeed a rifleman, if you cannot already tell by the gusto in which he is rifling the ball in the above photo. Where’s the ball, you say? Probably like, a million miles away by now. Maybe light years even. In fact, Cory Snyder threw a baseball so hard, that it often caused him to transport into other dimensions, as evidenced, once again, by the above photo. In this particular dimension, the 6’3” 185 lb Snyder was transformed into a 7’4” 97 lb baseball player, who coincidentally, also played for the Cleveland Indians. And his name was also Cory Snyder, and he was a rifleman. That dimension was easy. In other dimensions , however, Cory Snyder would turn into a priest, or even a fireman, and he would have to solve various crimes. Sometimes he would even fall in love, which kind of sucked, because he would eventually be transported...