So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

Tino Martinez, 1998 Upper Deck, Retro series This one is for the hos ladies. Many people have argued that the “Classic card of the week” discriminates against females, because I tend to post stupid cards with snarky comments that reference “guy’s movies” like “ Carlito’s Way ” and “Mr. Holland's Opus.” Even the act of posting silly cards itself is discriminatory, as I have come to learn that many women did not, in fact, ask for the complete 1989 Topps set for Christmas of that year, and have yet to open it. If I am going to post sports cards – these people argue – I could at least, every now and then, post one of a brooding stud. To that I say, apparently you haven’t seen this . Nevertheless… Here ya’ go. Tino. The Bamtino, as John Sterling has affectionately and jackassedly referred to him. Girls want to be with him. Guys want to be like him. An example of a girl that would like to be with him is my wife, which doesn’t upset me that much because I would also like to be with him....

Note: This column appears in the 6/26 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 6/27 issue of the Peoria Times Last summer was the first summer my wife and I spent in the Valley, and thus, it was also our first experience with the famed Arizona Monsoon season. I think it hailed once. And one day it flooded a little. Other than that it was hotter than all hell. We were unimpressed. Granted, I realize just how disruptive and destructive a monsoon can be. They are serious storms -- not to be messed with. And just because last summer may have been weak in the monsoon department doesn't mean that we citizens should not be prepared for some crazy weather this summer. Luckily for us, the city of Glendale has a plan to combat monsoons: the Internet. Yes, the city has created a webpage specifically dedicated to monsoon preparedness, which is cleverly and ominously entitled “Monsoon!!!” (Exclamation points are mine.) Subtitle: “Be prepared. Be cautious. Be Glendale Monsoon Ready.” If you have litt...

Henry Cotto, 1990 Topps Coming up through the Seattle Mariners’ farm system in the early 90’s, a young Alex Rodriguez could not shake the comparisons to Henry Cotto. Both were over six feet tall. But it didn’t end there. Both were born in New York but were Puerto Rican in heritage, or something close to that. (Like, not Asian.) Both men were not designated hitters, which is to say that both of them played the field, on the diamond and with the ladies. Each would play for both the Yankees and Mariners, and one year with the Cubs, which hasn’t happened yet for Rodriguez, but trust me. Both men, except for Cotto, would sign groundbreaking multi-million dollar contracts that would follow them throughout their careers. Both men happily caressed their baseball bats in front of thousands of adoring fans. Both men occasionally drank cranberry juice. Each had a famous, easier-to-say-than-their-actual-name nickname: A-Rod, Hen-Cot, respectively. “A rod of hen cot.” That is how scouts cleverly d...

Note: This column appears in the 6/19 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 6/20 issue of the Peoria Times Note Part II: The title of this post is purposely awful Many of my loyal readers -- cough*MomandDad*cough -- may recall that I, rather officially , declared myself a Phoenix Coyotes fan about a week before the end of their season this past April. This appears to be excellent timing on my part, with the news last week that the Coyotes as a franchise lost $30 million during the 2006-07 season, and remain dead last in the NHL in ticket sales. It would seem that this perfect combination of ice hockey and the desert is now threatened. I mean, $30 million is a lot of money. You could fill up your car for almost an entire year with that kind of cash flow. (Notice how I interspersed a topical and relevant cultural fuel crisis into a column about hockey…hope you’re taking notes, kids!)) And being last in ticket sales within a league that has -- maybe up until this past season -- managed to...

Received this note while I was going through renewals and what not this afternoon at work. The first part is praise for some of my coworkers, which you can read on their blogs, if such a thing exists. The final paragraph pertains to my columns for the paper: Also, I enjoy the prose and puns in Mike Kinney's [sic] commentary. His perspective as a newcomer to the neighborhood is very amusing. LOL! That said -- I wish he wouldn't go for a laugh by alluding to violent actions. The path to a better world is by thinking, talking, teaching and making peace...always. Thanks! And there you go. I'm not sure if I should be happy, or confused, or so angry that I could rip someone's testicles off with a meat hook. I honestly don't know of a time when I alluded to violent actions for a laugh, with the possible exception of that previous sentence. Nevertheless, I have never seem an LOL! IN CAPS immediately followed by criticism of how that LOL! was attained; a criticism that seems...

Dwight Gooden, 1987 Drake’s Here is another installment in our “ Cards that came with food ” series. In this case, we are provided this awesome Dwight Gooden card courtesy of Drake’s. There is no doubt in my mind that the box this card was cut out of was a box of Drake’s coffee cakes , because they were like my favorite things ever as a kid…and right now, and forever. That two-pack of soft, delicious coffee cakes, with the crumbles -- I call them crumbles -- on the top, which had a tendency to fall off after a hearty bite, but it wouldn’t matter, because even if one of those crumbles fell into a pile of hot poop, I would have scooped it out and ate it anyway, because those crumbles were so precious. I love coffee cakes. As you can see, this particular series was the “7th Annual Collector’s Edition,” so by this point in time, the Drake’s series of cards held a lot prestige within the industry. You could bring one of these puppies to a baseball card show and try to trade it to one of the...

Note: This column appears in the 6/12 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 6/13 issue of the Peoria Times There is a phenomenon sweeping this part of the country. I am not sure how long it’s been here, but I am certain that I noticed it the second I moved to Arizona. It is a revolutionary tactic in advertising, and it combines a lack of technology, minimum wage, and an utter disregard for human life and dignity. What is this phenomenon, you ask, as if you don’t already know? People standing outside holding signs. Seriously. Local businesses are paying people to stand a few feet away from oncoming traffic and hold up a sign advertising a store inside of a strip mall nearby. The reason for this, of course, is that every business -- as mandated by Arizona law -- must be contained within a strip mall, so that the only way you can find that business is to randomly drive into strip malls and look at all the stores without running over anyone in the parking lot. Or, in this case, you can be co...

Greg Harris, 1987 Sportsflics I have good news and bad news. The good news? I found another hologram card . The bad news? There is no bad news. Before video -- which was invented in 1996, I think -- pitchers could only look at their hologram baseball cards to notice flaws in their delivery. They would sit in the clubhouse with their pitching coach and turn the card every which way and make furious notes about any mechanical flaws. Unfortunately, they would then have to wait until next season’s batch of Sportsflics cards were released to see if they had made any improvements. Even more unfortunately, they would have to wait forever because Sportsflics cards were never released again after 1987 because they were deemed the worst and ugliest and most pointless cards ever produced ever in the history of anything in the world ever. Luckily for Greg Harris, Sportsflics just confirmed what he already knew -- that Greg Harris was awesome. Perfect form, pitching in front of a packed house for...

Note: This column appears in the 6/5 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 6/6 issue of the Peoria Times Stupid...economic...stagnation! Many neighbors are lazy idiots. This is a fact of life. You pay a lot of money for your home, and then you look across the street only to see that a plastic swimming pool with cartoon mermaids on it is growing out of the weeds on your neighbor’s front yard. Then you complain to your wife that “we paid a lot of money for this house and now it’s going to crap because our neighbors are lazy idiots!” This is a hypothetical situation, of course. The other worst kind of neighbor is the neighbor that is no longer your neighbor because he or she has been kicked out of their house and now the house is in foreclosure. This is actually an ongoing problem now in Glendale and Peoria. (And everywhere, for that matter.) In fact, the Glendale Code Compliance Department -- sounds fun! -- has been flooded with complaints about the weeds growing in the yards of foreclosed...

Don Slaught, 1989 Score Don Slaught. Slaughty. Slaughterer of baseballs. Slaughty McSlaughterson. Don Juan DeSlaughty. Slaughtmeister. Damn, son -- you should have known Don Slaught was playing catcher today, cause you just got slaught stealing! Professor Slaught. The Slaught heard ‘round the world. I slaught I told you that we won’t stop. Yankees Slaughterhouse, population: 1. His name? Don Slaught. Erhouse. Slaught, Don. Don Slaught. Don Slaught was dubbed, by me, at this very moment in time, as “Mr. April through Early May,” for his inability to make it to Memorial Day in one piece. Back of the card, take over: Don was second in the A.L. with a .378 BA in mid-May and had 26 RBIs in 28 games when he went on the DL with a pulled groin muscle. Groin slaught. The worst kind. Don’s cheekbone and nose were shattered by a pitch in a mid-May of ’86. He was batting .293 at the time and, after seven weeks on the DL, struggled to regain his batting eye. Well, no kidding he had difficulty regai...

Orioles Leaders, 1986 Topps When I go to sleep at night, I dream of Orioles’ leaders. This is strange, considering I’m a Yankees fan. Nevertheless, back in 1986, I was having a rather pleasant dream about the leaders of the Orioles, and the manner in which they lead, and their leaderiffic tendencies. When I awoke, this very card was under my pillow -- obviously left by the Baseball Card Fairy -- and it depicted the very dream I was just enjoying. It was the fourth best day of my life! But which Orioles’ leader was I dreaming of? The Caucasian mustachioed fellow popping out to shallow right on the front of this card did not look familiar to me. So, I immediately checked the back of the card so that I could match this fine gentleman with the specific statistical categories that he so boldly led the Orioles in: Well, I was pretty sure this man was not Cal Ripken, who led the O’s in hits, runs, and triples the previous season. I was a little more certain this man was not Eddie Murray . And...

Note: This column appears in the 5/29 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 5/30 issue of the Peoria Times Everyday more and more people are moving here, which is good, but also pretty annoying. I can say that because I’ve been here a year now. I have tenure. Developments and strip malls are going up in the blink of an eye, especially in northern Glendale and Peoria, which has more room to build on. The reasons people want to live in this area in the first place -- its openness and serenity and the opportunity it presents to encounter a wild animal that could kill you in like, two seconds -- are being destroyed everyday. And people are getting upset. Residents of Vistancia in northwest Peoria are concerned about the APS initiative to place a series of power lines along the northern edge of the development instead of on the originally proposed Route 74. If you’ve never seen a series of power lines before -- and I don’t know why you wouldn’t have -- it’s pretty much like looking at the bac...

Doug Jennings, 1988 Fleer Here’s a trivia question: Name one of “Baseball’s Best” players in 1988. I’ll give you a hint -- the answer is not Doug Jennings. Give up? The answer is Doug Jennings. (There are no other acceptable answers. Sorry!) That hint that I provided, admittedly, may have been a bit confusing, as Mr. Jennings was not, literally , one of baseball’s best players in 1988. However, he WAS one of “Baseball’s Best” players in 1988. So how did Fleer and their atrociously colorful series of cards come to this conclusion? Well, Doug Jennings had accumulated a four-year batting average of .303 in the minor leagues. ‘Nuff said. Move over Mike Greenwell and Orel Hershiser, with all of your major league “experience” and impressive “stats” -- Doug Jennings and his .303 minor league average are here. To use a phrase that was popular in 1988, “You betta ask somebody!” Wait -- was that 1988 or like, 1994 when that phrase was popular? I forget. Nevertheless, I just did axe ask somebody...

This column appears in the 5/22 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 5/23 issue of the Peoria Times...and, yet again, has nothing to do with sports Peoria is great, for the most part. There are quiet, friendly neighborhoods, lots of fun stuff to do, and even an IHOP, which is great, because I love that strawberry syrup that they have there. But something has been plaguing the city for years now, and it’s pretty much the only thing holding Peoria back from becoming a respected part of the state. Shopping carts. Bastard I remember it was around a year ago when my wife and I traveled to Peoria to start looking for houses. The city was beautiful, of course, and we knew it was where we wanted to start the next chapter of our lives. But still -- everywhere we looked we saw shopping carts. Taking up parking spaces at the local grocery store. Hanging out on the corner smoking cigarettes. Sometimes we’d be driving and a shopping cart would pass us on the road, that one faulty wheel threatening t...

I know this is a little late, but I just couldn't let this one go... So I'm watching Game Seven of the Cavs-Celtics series on Sunday afternoon, and it's halftime, which means it's time for ESPN's halftime studio show, which is always a whole lot of nothing. Anyway, heading into a commercial, Stuart Scott announces that when they return, they'll be interviewing Chauncey Billups -- whose Pistons had already made it to the Eastern Conference Finals. Said Scott -- and this is not verbatim, but pretty darn close -- You're NOT going to want to miss what Chauncey Billups has to say about who he wants to face in the next round! Aaaaaand we're back. After a few awkward minutes of Stuart Scott kissing Chauncey Billups' ass, the question is posed. Cavs or Celtics? This, mind you, is what I did NOT want to miss. Says Chauncey Billups: Honestly? It doesn't matter either way. Awesome.

Melido Perez, 1989 Score Melido Perez did not invent the jheri curl -- Jheri Redding did, and yes, I Googled “jheri curl” to find that out -- but he did perfect it. (Side bar: I was going to say that Melido Perez “redefined” the jheri curl, until I realized how much I hate that word. Redefined. What a stupid, stupid word. And you hear it all the time, especially in sports. “ Cal Ripken redefined the shortstop position .” Why, because he was tall? That’s how he redefined it? If Cal Ripken started playing shortstop on the warning track, then he would have redefined the position. My mission in life is to redefine the word redefine so that the new definition of redefine is a frowny face :( I'm going to close the parenthesis now because it's hard to do so after a frowny face. Aaaaaaand close.) Anyhoo, now that THAT’S over, back to the jheri curl. Melido Perez, as previously mentioned, and as you can see from the above card, had one. Isn’t that funny? His brother Pascual had one too...

Note: This column appears in the 5/15 issue of The Glendale Star, and the 5/16 issue of the Peoria Times...and has nothing to do with sports My parents came to visit my wife and I last week from New Jersey. They were here for about nine days, and in that time, they managed to experience more of Arizona than we have in a year. Much of Arizona they discovered while searching for the 10 East from the airport in their rental car. When I called my mom to find out where they were -- roughly three hours after they landed -- she said they had finally found the 10E, and were going straight to the nearest divorce court. Then they’d get something to eat. Once everyone was settled in, it was time to experience the desert. After a weekend that included a D-Backs game, several stints at our development pool, and a few tastes of fine, local cuisine (the Peoria “Chili’s”) my parents were on their own once the workweek started. Luckily for them -- because our section of Arizona is largely bereft of str...

Kevin McReynolds, 1989 Baseball Cards magazine Here is yet another example of my extraordinary scissor skills. Once again, you would think that if I took the time to cut this Kevin McReynolds card out of whatever cereal box it was featured on, I would have at least taken my time. Apparently, my excitement at the thought of adding an exclusive Kevin McReynolds card to my collection was too much for me to handle, and it’s a miracle that my unsteady and impatient hand did not cut off any of the McFro. To the back of the card! McReynolds, a power-hitting outfielder with a right arm that commands respect, had an MVP-caliber year in 1988, and looks for more and better in 1989. Pure poetry. At the time, many players were looking for more, but not necessarily better, but McReynolds was searching for both. He was looking for more and better stuff, more of the stuff he could be better at, while also becoming better at the stuff he liked to do more of, but in a better kind of way. But with more....

Pedro Martinez, 1998 Fleer Ultra Pregame stretches served as a time of contemplation for Pedro Martinez. During this particular instance, Martinez is undoubtedly thinking back to the days when he would sit under a mango tree without 50 cents for the bus. But now look at me, stretching for the Boston Red Sox. With my own purple stretch-a-ma-thingie! Ya’ know what? I’m gonna find myself a little person to hang around with. That’s the logical next step. And why the hell is Zimmer looking at me like that? What’s his problem? Of course, I kid with Pedro Martinez because I hate him. Not as a person, but as an athlete. But also as a person. That was a joke. Sort of. But by hate I mean “respectfully loathe,” which is something he should be proud of, if he gave a flying Zimmer what a random Yankee fan blogger thought about him. Please though, take a look at Pedro Martinez. What we’re witnessing here is the smug confidence of a man who -- regardless of whether or not he adequately stretches be...

Note: This column appears in the 5/9 issue of the Peoria Times...and has nothing to do with sports My wife purchased a new car a few weeks ago. A few days ago she received her Arizona license plate. Let me first say that this is quite a big deal for someone relatively new to the area. In fact, my wife was rolling around with New Jersey plates (she had her car shipped) since we moved here. For us, much more so than our house or our jobs or our willingness to exist in 125-degree heat, an AZ license plate signified our commitment to living here. It said to the world, “For all you know, I am actually from Arizona. So BACK OFF!” Or something like that. This would officially make my wife a local. A townie, if you will. An Arizonan. A woman . You get the idea. She opened the big envelope while we did drumrolls in our heads. And there it was. “What the heck is this?” she asked. It appeared as if someone had mistakenly sent my wife one of those fake license plates that you would find in a touri...