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Cal Ripken, Jr -- Champagne, 1993 Milkbone Superstars Here we have the Milkbone “Superstars” series of trading cards, in which popular Major League Baseball players posed happily with their dogs. It’s uncertain here who is the actual superstar. Cal Ripen, Jr. –- shortstop –- has the inset going for him, while Champagne -– dog -– has the “don’t eff with me or I’ll bite your friggin’ head off” look of a true superstar. Both have amazing sweaters. Let us declare them both superstars! Because I already know the vital statistics of Cal Ripken, Jr, let’s discover more about Champagne, shall we? Indeed: Champagne was presented to Cal’s wife as a gift along with a bottle of champagne, hence her name. That is a fabulous story, one that I am sure is recounted in detail at lavish mid-winter dinner parties at the Ripken’s lovely suburban Maryland home. Nevertheless, I don’t get it. Cal Ripken : Hey babe. Happy birthday. I got you a bottle of champagne. And this dog. The dog’s name is Champagne. Ge...

Note: This column appears in the 4/29 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/30 issue of the Peoria Times There has been a running joke in our family for years involving videos from Idaho. My uncle –- then stationed in Idaho for the Air Force -– and my aunt had just given birth to their first kids, twin girls. Armed with a camcorder and the anxiety that everyone back east was missing everything, my uncle countered by recording everything. When my aunt and uncle eventually returned east for good, our entire family was subsequently treated to hours-long, sound-free, grainy footage of my cousins doing mundane things amidst the appealing aesthetic of the flat and empty Idaho landscape. Having to watch those videos again is now a threat at family functions aimed at anyone who gets out of hand, which usually ends up being, ironically, one of the co-stars of those famous movies. They drink wine now. I was so young when those videos surfaced, but even I have a faint memory of their monotony. Now...

Trust me that this post is not in retrospect, considering Round 1 of the NFL Draft is finished. I just never got around to mentioning this yesterday. Besides, I would never hold anyone to any sort of accuracy standards when it comes to mock drafting. They are silly, but apparently required if you are a sports writer. But I just cannot let this doozy from Peter King slide. Keep in mind that a mock draft is, for those unaware, a made-up scenario regarding how a particular person thinks the draft will pan out. With that in mind, here is what Peter King has to say regarding the 29th pick in his mock draft : 29. New York Jets Jahvid Best, RB, Cal This pick makes no sense -- unless you think Leon Washington and LaDainian Tomlinson are short-timers. This pick. Makes no sense. Indeed it does not, especially considering that it is your own pretend pick . I mean, who are you talking to, Peter King? Because it seems as though you are harshly criticizing the New York Jets for making a pick that th...

Ken Griffey Jr., 2000 Upper Deck Sometime around the year 2000, there was a top-secret Superstar Summit, which was held at an undisclosed location (Bennigans), was organized by Upper Deck and the baseball branch of the C.I.A., and included the superest superstars of Major League Baseball. What you see here has never been disclosed to the general public before, and it seems to be the identification card for Ken Griffey Jr. to enter the Superstar Summit. How and why do I have it? I am not at liberty to disclose that information. Not now. Not ever. I will not be putting my family or this country at risk for a fleeting moment of self-glorification! That said, here is what I know: Name of All-Star Ken Griffey Jr. Fact No. 1: You had to be an All-Star to attend this Summit. Not too surprising that a summit of superstars would require at least some star experience. Think Joe Johnson is gaining entry into the Superstar Summit? Think again. Fact No. 2: The man pictured here is named “Ken Grif...

Note: This column appears in the 4/22 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/23 issue of the Peoria Times The last time I discussed scorpions here I mentioned how my wife and I had resorted to hunting for them outside with a black light at night, collecting them in a jar, and then releasing them on the concrete at which point I would kill them in the most panicked and effeminate way you can imagine –- with my flip-flop, while screaming. Believe me this was not the ideal way we wanted to go about ridding ourselves of scorpions. The dread of reinitiating that summer night routine had remained in the back of my mind, as was the reality of scorpions in general and the fact that we have, though not yet officially, a family now. But one day a few weeks ago while walking back from the mailbox, I noticed a truck parked in front of our neighbor’s house that read, “Scorpion Specialists.” So I talked to the guy, Chris. He said the Scorpion Specialists seal your home, inside and out and completely...

Andres Galarraga, 1991 Score Andres Galarraga. Good ballplayer. I want to know more: Dubbed the “Cat” by his teammates because of his graceful moves around first, Wrong. Galarraga’s nickname, as specified by Wikipedia and anyone who followed baseball in the 90’s was “The Big Cat.” And while that may sound like nitpicking, I mean, that was his nickname. Not “Cat.” That would be like saying that Frank Thomas’ nickname was “Hurt.” I would even venture to say that the fact that Andres Galarraga’s nickname was “The Big Cat” is probably the most commonly recognized thing about Andres Galarraga, as evidenced by this very card opting to mention it first and foremost. So the fact that this card, in doing so, got it wrong is very weird to me. But that’s not the weirdest thing about this little tidbit. Not by a long shot: In ’89 Andres was awarded his first Gold Glove. “He’s very classy around the bag,” said scout Joe Klein. “And he has tremendous hands.” I would first like to mention that I neve...

Note: This column appears in the 4/15 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/16 issue of the Peoria Times Last week I mentioned how writing about bad driving is a stale, clichéd, and predictable endeavor. As a result, this will be my second consecutive column about bad driving. This is however, out of my control. My hand was forced as a result of the news that both Glendale and Peoria will begin –- like, now –- cracking down on motorists who illegally pass stopped school buses. One of the first things that I noticed upon moving here almost three years ago was how the local motorists react when an ambulance or fire truck is on the road with its siren blaring. Drivers in the Valley, rather than simply slow down and drive in a manner that will allow the ambulance or fire truck to pass –- which is what east coast drivers do –- instead come to a complete stop on the road, wherever they are. Even if the emergency vehicle is on the other side of a road that is separated by a median, drivers w...

Dan Gladden, 1989 Donruss Diamond Kings There have been Diamond Kings before , but none as feisty and throwbacky and pesky and Diamond Kingy as Dan Gladden. To wit: Dan Gladden is a throwback to the old timers who played on the Gas House Gang Cardinals of the 1930’s. Let us, for a second, ignore the fact that the term “throwback player” is reserved exclusively for white players with a reputation for hustle, which is offensive to almost every current player not labeled a “throwback” in its insinuation that they do not hustle, and also inaccurate in its assumption that players from the good ol’ days hustled all the time and serve as the standard for how to play baseball properly. Yes, we shall ignore that. What is rather amazing here is the specificity of this throwback statement. Because Dan Gladden wasn’t a throwback in a general sense –- he was a throwback to the Gas House Gang Cardinals. When people watched Dan Gladden play, they immediately thought of the Gas House Gang Cardinals, e...

Note: This column appears in the 4/7 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/8 issue of the Peoria Times I’m a patient man, I think. It takes a lot for something to really get to me. I don’t have many pet peeves. Even those things that I list as being “pet peeves” don’t really bother me all that much. Sometimes I have to manufacture indignation so as to feel like a normal, frustrated, angry human being. I am, after all, from the east coast. There are expectations. But there is one thing that honestly and legitimately makes my skin crawl with the type of loathing normally reserved for unrepentant and violent criminals. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, those who neglect or straight refuse to use their turn signal are murderers. Of the decent driver’s soul. Now, I do not prefer to write about bad driving. For one thing, I’ve done it before , many times . It’s also hacky and stale and predictable. Any person can make an argument that the driving where they live is the worst. And it’s been we...

Todd Dunn, 1993 Classic Games, Inc. Seen here is Classic Games, Inc’s (?) “Four Sport Collection” featuring Todd Dunn. I can only however, locate one sport on this card, and that sport appears to be high school baseball, as photographed by the coach’s wife with a Kodak disposable camera. If you need evidence of Todd Dunn’s baseball ability that goes beyond blurry documentation of an odd batting stance and proof that his fans included middle-aged groupies wearing scrunchies and Gotcha tank tops, then may I direct you to the back of the card: Unfortunately, the back of the card includes another blurry photo. But there is also a difficult-to-read chart, which is nice. Also: A first round pick by the Brewers, Todd was rated as the best overall athlete in Baseball America in an article listing the College Players with the Best Tools. In the category of “College Players with the Best Tools,” Todd Dunn was voted the best overall athlete. It is unclear whether being a great athlete is a specif...

Note: This column appears in the 4/1 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/2 issue of the Peoria Times One of the clues that I am getting older is that I am becoming increasingly offended by things. In my younger days, nothing fazed me. Even things that I recognized as being extremely offensive were not actually offensive to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t have morals -– I was just indifferent to or amused by the lack thereof in others. Which, I guess, reflected poorly on my own morals, but whatever. I’m not the one on trial here! Anyway, now in my early 30s, I am finding myself perturbed by even things that have gained national acceptance. Sometimes especially things that have gained national acceptance. Exhibit A for me is “Dancing With the Stars.” Believe me that I do not voluntarily watch this show. (Don’t get me wrong -– I watch plenty of shows that would make you question my masculinity. This is just not one of them.) But my wife does. And I am appalled by it. I mean, have you seen t...

Dave Winfield, 1988 Kay-Bee Superstars of Baseball In the late 80s, the authority on who was, and who was not, a superstar of baseball was Kay-Bee Toy Stores. The good news for everyone playing baseball in the late 80s was that Kay-Bee Toy Stores was pretty liberal in who they named superstars. For example, this particular card is No. “33 of 33 cards.” For the year of 1988, it was deemed, by Kay-Bee Toy Stores, that there were 33 superstars in baseball. Thirty-three ! That is a lot of superstars, especially considering that my complete and unopened set of 1989 Topps is worth $4. It remains curious as to what the criteria was to be a superstar in the mind of Kay-Bee Toy Stores, but you definitely needed at least some form of identification. If you happened to root for a team in 1988 that was mysteriously bereft of at least one superstar, that only meant that your favorite player was not forging an adequate relationship with Kay-Bee Toy Stores. And that was unfortunate. But I digress. Le...

Note: This column appears in the 3/25 issue of The Glendale Star and the 3/26 issue of the Peoria Times Like many people I often wonder: If I ever struck it rich through either the lottery –- which I do not play –- or through fantasy sports –- where our annual payout for any league is around $200 –- would I continue to work? I always liked to believe that I would continue to work regardless of whether I needed to or not, although that mindset is often second-guessed on those mornings when I’d just rather go back to sleep, which is, actually, every morning. But last week something happened that helped reconfirm my original position. Last Monday morning my wife woke up feeling very ill. Stomach flu. Luckily for us, I have off from work on Mondays anyway, so although it was no fun to see her in so much pain, at least I was around to take care of things. I was Mr. Mom for the day. I cooked, straightened up, made phone calls, and most importantly took care of our little one. Admittedly it’s...

Nolan Ryan, Baseball Heroes, 1990 Upper Deck Here is our collective baseball hero, Nolan Ryan. In 1989 he struck out his 5,000th batter. But I bet you were wondering what he was like as a naïve, impressionable, hillbilly youngster, caught up in the big bright lights of New York City. As a youngster with the Mets, Nolan once remarked to teammate Tom Seaver that Jim Bunning’s 2,500th strikeout, which they had just witnessed, was a remarkable accomplishment. Nolan Ryan : You know what, Tom? I was thinking. To me, 2,500 strikeouts is a pretty remarkable accomplishment. Tom Seaver : Oh, really? Ya’ think? You know Nolan, I thought your strong suit was throwing 100-mph fastballs. But let’s throw “perceptive analysis” into the category of “things you do really well.” In fact, I wanted your opinion on something. This baseball looks round to me. What do you think? Nolan Ryan : I hate you. Seaver told him about Walter Johnson’s 3,508 career K’s. In the realm of silly and contrived and 99%-false ...

Note: This column appears in the 3/18 issue of The Glendale Star and the 3/19 issue of the Peoria Times So my wife and I have been watching “The Marriage Ref.” For those who have managed to miss this mercilessly promoted television program, it features married couples having arguments which are then discussed and arbitrated on by the host and a panel of celebrities, most of whom have an obvious and shameless connection to NBC, “The Marriage Ref’s” home network. I have many issues with the show, not the least of which is not finding it to be particularly funny, which is, I think, the point of the whole thing. But that’s not my only problem. Besides the inherent disingenuousness of people arguing in front of cameras, the arguments themselves are made-for-TV in their outlandishness. In the interest of declaring “a winner,” this makes it near impossible to not immediately and obviously side with either the husband or wife. For example, the first few episodes featured a husband who wanted h...

Bill Bene, 1989 Topps Seen here is #1 Draft Pick Bill Bene, who is too sexy for this hat. There's no way he's disco dancing! It's difficult to say how this #1 Draft Pick worked out for the Dodgers, because my Internet is down and thus I cannot find the data to back up the obvious fact that it did not work out for the Dodgers. Not to say that Bene himself was not a success, as overall performance is vastly inferior to dashing good looks in a city like Los Angeles. But where does Bill Bene's story begin? At birth? No. In high school: Primarily a basketball player in high school, Bill was originally an outfielder. Let's ignore the fact that this statement makes it sound as though an outfielder is a position on the basketball court. There are more pressing issues here, namely: what does it mean to be "primarily" a basketball player in high school? For Bene, was basketball business and baseball mere pleasure? Were his dreams of making it to the NBA and being an...

Note: This column appears in the 3/11 issue of The Glendale Star and the 3/12 issue of the Peoria Times What happened? These are almost always the first words my wife utters when she comes home from work on those days when I am responsible for picking up our hopefully-soon-to-be-daughter from daycare. Typically, her inquisition is a result of our little one wearing different clothes than my wife had dressed her in that morning, a small detail I consistently miss when picking her up. If she is wearing “backup” clothes that means she had either a spitting-up or poop-related accident, and so my wife’s follow-up question is: Where are her clothes? My response to this -– as was my response to the initial question and any additional ones -– is a meek shrug of the shoulders. This has been a constant source of frustration for my wife. I know she thinks that if our hopefully-soon-to-be-daughter were wearing a potato sack when I went to pick her up, I still wouldn’t notice. And she may be right....

Orel Hershiser, 1989 Baseball Cards Magazine Here is further proof of my mastery of a pair of scissors . Again, I don't remember cutting out this small slice of heaven -- apparently it's from Baseball Cards Magazine? Man, I am cool -- but Orel Hershiser himself seems pleased with my efforts. As do the fans. Let’s find out more about this fellow called Orel: The hero of the 1988 World Series Orel Hershiser was unreal in the 1988 World Series, pitching brilliantly during his two wins and earning MVP honors. That said: Kirk Gibson on line one. (By the way, I’ve never used the “X is on line one” joke. How did it go? Did you laugh? No? Because your sense of humor is on line one. Ha! Take that.) And the reigning king of the big contract and the multi-million dollar endorsement, Yes, in his day Orel Hershiser was a lethal marketing hybrid of Peyton Manning mixed with Bob Villa mixed with a hilarious old woman inquiring as to the whereabouts of her beef. He could sell advertising spac...

Note: This column appears in the 3/4 issue of The Glendale Star and the 3/5 issue of the Peoria Times I’m not much of a phone person in that generally, I don’t prefer to talk on the phone. I would say that I am in the mood to talk on the phone approximately twenty minutes throughout the course of a given calendar year. What an actual phone can do however, as far as texting and letting me know who is calling so that I don’t have to answer, which allows me to better avoid actual conversations, has been great and has, ironically, made me more of a phone person. As a result of that, or as result of me being considerably less popular than I think I am, not many people actually call me. In fact, save for my wife and parents, nobody calls me. Under normal circumstances -– as in, if I were normal -- this would be fine. But for some odd and illogical reason, I still expect people to call me. I am equally annoyed by people calling and not calling. My own cell phone has an automatic keypad-lockin...

Chicago White Sox, 1990 Upper Deck Who doesn’t love baseball nostalgia? Ya’ know, besides everybody in this picture. I know I do! Baseball card, take us back to the good ol’ days: The year was 1917. A year I remember well. The White Sox won a hundred games for the only time in their history as they routed the New York Giants, 4-2, “Routed?” in the World Series. Who can ever forget when the White Sox won the 1917 World Series?! It was a glorious time for baseball, a time when only white players could play, and two of the four teams in the league made it to the World Series, and drunkenness and general debauchery throughout the sport were not only accepted, but encouraged. But it was an even better time for the White Sox in particular, who were only two years away from a betting scandal that would cost them the 1919 World Series and earn their most famous player, Shoeless Joe Jackson, a lifetime ban from the sport. Good times! Coincidentally, one of the major players from that game-thro...