So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

Kevin Porter, 1991 Pro Line Portraits Series What’s that you say, Kevin Porter? Would I like to see what’s behind that football? Ummm, no thanks. I’m cool. Really though. Actually, as a matter of fact, I brought my own football, so…yeah, don’t worry about it. Come again, Mr. Porter? Would I like to guess what’s behind that football? Uhhh, okay. Is it…another football? Kind of ? Okaaay. Is it…a Herman Melville novel? Yeah, he wrote the book about the whale. I’m getting closer ? Okay. Wait – I don’t really want to get any closer, now that I think about it. I give up, Kevin Porter. What’s behind the football? What the - a Chia Pet? For me ? Why thank you, Kevin Porter! You didn’t have to go through all that trouble! And I didn’t even get you anything…I feel terrible. Wait, do you have any skin-tight spandex shorts, because I just saw a pair at Dick’s Sporting Goods…maybe I could buy them for you? Oh, you do have a pair of skin-tight spandex shorts? Several pairs? Oh my gosh - you’re weari

It’s about time that I let you in on a little secret. Dwayne Schintzius is the inspiration behind this whole, darned operation. The very idea of “Classic Card of the Week” was modeled around the notion that someday – when I felt I was adequately ready to do so – breaking down these very cards. But unforeseen challenges lie ahead. For starters, our Dwayne Schintzius collection was always lying around the office somewhere, never more than a few footsteps away, nestled next to some coffee-stained newspapers and two-month old cream cheese. But, when I finally felt confident enough to take on the magnificence you see above (I have been training for months now, eating raw eggs and typing with my knuckles)…BAM!…they were gone. Suddenly and unjustly, like the NBA Hall of Fame in Springfield, MA, Dwayne Schintzius was nowhere to be found. What was a man to do? I searched high and low, with no results. Through utter carelessness, I had managed to lose the Holy Grail of ridiculous sports cards. I

*Special Friday edition David Segui, 1994 Topps David Segui is gonna bunt the shit out of that ball, so you might want to take a step back. David Segui once bunted a ball into the dead center field “black” at Yankee Stadium. David Segui will yell at an oncoming fastball and tell it where to go, even when he is bunting. He will say, “Go halfway down the third base line you stupid ball – Glaus is playing too deep – or I will KILL YOU! I will rip the seams out of your precious little round body, and then EAT YOUR REMIANS! ARRRGHHHH!” David Segui blatantly ignores the conventional wisdom with regards to how to hold the bat when you are bunting. He really doesn’t care. David Segui’s rationale is, “So what if a 94 mph fastball hits me right in the knuckles as I’m squaring up? My hands are made of straight steel, homie. Raffy gave me about 17 HGH shots right in ol’ caboose during BP – this ball could hit me straight in the temple and I will walk to first base as if I were just hit with a rain

The Christmas season is all about a little give-and-take. “An eye for an eye,” as George Costanza would say. That’s what holiday spirit is all about. In that respect, and in honor of the holiday season, we’re going to do a little not-so-secret Santa thing. The higher ups here in the blogosphere have given me a modest budget to buy gifts for some of our favorite athletes and coaches here at “So, do you like...stuff?” But, in return, they have to get me something that I want, which is the most important part of this little deal. So, after a few phone calls, emails, and blackmailed photos of a compromised Drew Rosenhaus, we managed to set this whole thing up. (By the way, it’s more interesting if you picture all of us wearing Santa hats, sitting around a tree and sipping on some Grey Goose punch, which is exactly how this all went down.) Chris Henry His list : One “get out of jail free” card. No, wait…make that two. Says I : I think I could manage a PBA card for ya’, Chris. But it doesn’

Dan Saleaumua, 1991 Pro Line, Portraits series Whoa, whoa! Back off, Dan Saleaumua! I was just kidding! I take it back – that is NOT just an extra-long shirt with shorts on over it. The last thing I need right now is for you to be practicing your martial arts moves on my groin. I’m not even wearing a cup! I don’t even work here! So please, relax. Thank you. So anyways…alright, why are you still looking at me like that? Are you messing with me? Let me check the back of your card…oh! Okay, you ARE messing with me: “To prepare for a game, I watch everybody else psyche themselves up, and it usually makes me laugh. Some guys bang their heads and some just sit there with their eyes closed…Some guys do different things, but I just goof around most of the time.” Dan Saleaumua did not believe in artificial motivation, such as “trash-talk clipboard material,” steroids, or Red Bull. He instead prepared for games with a steady diet of whoopee cushions and “Three Stooges” reruns. It was this free-

*Special Friday edition Don Mattingly, 1991 Collectors Series The similarities between Don Mattingly and Coca-Cola were endless, which serves to explain how a baseball card could, quite easily, confuse the two. For example, both were very red, with sideburns. Both went down extra smooth – Coca-Cola with its crisp, refreshing taste, and Mattingly with an effortless slide into home plate to win the game for the hometown ball club. Both produced much hyped, yet ill-fated experiments – Coca-Cola with “New Coke,” and Mattingly with “Kevin Mass.” Both had bad backs. The only real difference between Coca-Cola and Don Mattingly – if you can even call it a difference – was that Coca-Cola was a soda, and Don Mattingly was a person. But that’s about it. In fact, people confused the two all the time. Mattingly himself tells a great story about how he went to give teammate Roberto Kelly a high-five after a Kelly home run, and instead, Kelly turned Mattingly upside down and tried to drink him, and

I’ve been receiving a lot of flack around here lately for ignoring the New Jersey Nets. Apparently, there are at least several people in the area who are fans of the Nets, which, I have to admit – I did not know. People are funny like that sometimes, like when they root for the Nets. The major sentiment among Nets’ fans is – they’re the local team, an actual New Jersey team, and they deserve our support. Also, they happen to be one of the better teams in the NBA. Okay. Counterpoint: They’re the Nets. They’ve been a brutal franchise for a quarter century, and now that they’re good, they’re most likely abandoning the Garden State for Brooklyn. Whatever side you may fall on, it is true that I have not paid them their due attention over these past few years, and thus, I’ve failed as a journa-…person. To make up for it, I’ve contacted the Nets’ super-duper guard Jason Kidd for an exclusive interview. He was as surprised as I was to find out about these “Nets fans,” and thus, agreed to sit

Cade McNown, 1999 Collector’s Edge Back in 1999, Cade McNown was a future legend. Now you may be asking yourself, “How does one ascend to ‘future legend’ status?” Good question. First, you have to be at least 200 lbs. (Cade McNown? 211 lbs. Check.) Next, you have to play quarterback, but not well enough to be drafted ahead of Akili Smith, who actually was also a “future legend” in the category of “failed draft picks.” (Smith, drafted 3rd overall, McNown, 12th. Check.) Finally, you must be deemed a “future legend” by the only authority capable of doling out such praise – a football card – and said football card must have utter disregard for the normal criteria that a stereotypical “legend” encompasses (i.e.: good stats, not named “Cade”), nor give two craps about naming someone a legend who has yet to take a snap within the field that they will establish their supposed legendary status within. (Check, check, and triple check!) Through this, it becomes clear that, yes, Cade McNown, in 19

Anyone that lives near this area of New Jersey is well aware that one local station a year continues the custom of 24-hour-a-day Christmas songs. This season the culprit is 106.7 FM, which began this tradition before Thanksgiving this year, meaning that it’s (looking at my watch) December 8th, and my holiday spirit has already been obliterated. Awesome. There are many reasons for this, not the least of which is the Rod Stewart/Dolly Parton rendition of “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” which my wife so cleverly dubbed as the “date-rape Christmas song:” “ Hey, what’s in this drink?” It’s SoCo mixed with GHB, Dolly - Rod is using the cold weather as an excuse to, at the very least, see your boobies. Merry Christmas! But that’s not even the worst of it. I suppose that, when you’re trying to fill hours upon hours of airtime with Christmas songs, you’re bound to come across some bad ones. And one song in particular takes the cake. So, at the risk of sounding like an insensitive jerk that doesn’t un

Barry Sanders, 1998 Playoff Co. series Barry, no! You’re running the wrong way! The “endzone x-press” is that-a-way! It’s easy to forget – because he was so freakin’ awesome – that Barry Sanders was, in fact, a Detroit Lion, and Detroit Lions tend to do stupid things, like disobey a smorgasbord of arrows leading them in the direction of the correct endzone. Only a Detroit Lion would be going the wrong way on a football card with the inscription “momentum” in the top right hand corner. Then again, this could have been one of those scenarios where the Lions’ offensive line immediately collapsed the exact second the ball was snapped, forcing Sanders to run backwards 20 yards, just so he could get some room to go forward again, which was when he was at his best. Or, it could have been a play call by the mastermind himself, the immortal Wayne Fontz, who most likely used the rationale, “Well, nobody seems to defending the endzone behind us…that would seem to be the easier option here.” Amazi

Those of you who follow this site regularly are aware that I have never pressured you into reading anything other than my own material. Call it good business. I have food to put on the table, and leading you in the direction of others who have the capability of exposing my own inadequacies doesn’t make much sense now, does it? Well, whatever. I’ve got a book for ‘ya. This is a New York-centric blog, which is why I’m taking the time to put you on to a New York-centric book. That, and because this book is – in literary jargon - freakin’ awesome. "The Best New York Sports Arguments: The 100 Most Controversial, Debatable Questions for Die-Hard Fans” hits bookshelves today, Dec. 5. My advice? Get it . The title speaks for itself. Author Peter Handrinos goes in-depth on all things involving New York sports, and leaves no stone unturned. I’ve read “sports argument” books before – most recently Chris “Mad Dog” Russo’s enjoyable “The Greatest Sports Arguments of All Time” – but there are

*Special Friday edition Roger Craig, 1986 Topps Roger Craig was in such amazing shape during his NFL career that he could actually outrun photosynthesis. There simply wasn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere to replace what Roger Craig would use during the most mundane of tasks, like doing laundry. Throughout his entire life, Roger Craig had conditioned himself – through a regimented series of Tae Bow moves and egg whites – to the point where he developed the closest thing to an iron lung since that of the present day Method Man. During his tenure with the 49ers, practice sessions often proved disastrous, with various teammates collapsing to the ground because Craig was unwittingly breathing in everyone else’s air. This, of course, led to the famous quote, “Roger Craig done stole’d up all my oxygen!” which was a line originally attributed to Red Foxx, until it was later discovered that Jerry Rice said it while doing a Red Foxx impression before passing out. Of course, Craig’s insatiable

Some dude, 1980-81 Topps Hey, here is an awesome hockey card featuring a guy. This guy plays for the Canucks. This guy also plays left wing, and wears a dashiki on the ice. This guy also got his ass kicked at some point in the past few days. Can you guess who this guy is? No? Me neither! Isn’t that friggin' sweet! This card is the manifestation of, quite possibly, the most ingenious idea in sports card history (not including, of course, this ): the scratch n’ sniff hockey card! Yes, if you scratch the black hockey puck on the lower right-hand side of the card with a nearby penny, or even a dulled machete, it will reveal the name of the player on the front. Then, if you so choose, you can sniff that area, which will release the very same aroma that this guy’s hockey equipment does after an overtime game. So, why haven’t I scratched off this area yet to reveal this guy’s name? Well, don’t be such an idiot! This guy could be Wayne Gretzky for all I know! I’m not going to ruin my new W

Todd Hammel, 1991 World League Pro Set Todd Hammel had just thrown his fifth interception of the first quarter when he walked back to the sidelines, looking straight ahead at NY/NJ Knights’ head coach Brett Massingil. The coach looked back at his quarterback, and, after an inquisitive squint, called him over. Still staring at his QB, Massingil said to him, “Todd, look at me. No, up here…look at me. Can you…can you see ?” Massingil had noticed that, because of Hammel’s unprecedented high-top mullet, his helmet sat oddly on top of his head, placing the top bar of his facemask directly in the line of his vision. After additional coaxing from the offensive coordinator, Hammel finally admitted that, no, he could not see anything out there. In fact, the previous week, the Knights were involved in a tight 0-0 game with the rival PA/OH Barnstormers, when, in an attempt to calm his team in the huddle before a crucial third down in the fourth quarter, Hammel turned to his teammates and said, “He

*Special Friday edition Kevin McHale, 1991-92 Upper Deck Kevin McHale puts his socks on just like you or I – one foot at a time. Except much, much dorkier. And with a dumb smile on his face, as if to say, “I’m a big goon with huge white tube socks that have the NBA logo on them! Women want to sex me up! Can you believe it? My arms are long enough to reach my gargantuan legs! Look!” See, I never make that face when I put my socks on. My face is more like, “Man, I look like a dumbass with my socks pulled up this high. Thank God I’m about to put some pants on.” And let me tell you something – back in 1992, high socks were not cool. I remember those days fondly, and in my hood, if somebody saw your socks on the basketball court, you would be run out of town. For reals, yo. Unless you had on black crew socks, which was okay, because the Fab Five wore black socks, and those guys did not put their socks on like you or I. They put their socks on two feet at a time, while drinking mimosas on to

Doug West, 1991-92 Upper Deck Doug West has many All-Star skills. He has bow-hunting skills. Num-chuck skills. Slam dunking skills. Just to name a few. Most popular of his all his skills are, obviously, his slam dunking skills, which earned him a spot in the Slam Dunk Contest at the 1992 NBA All-Star Game. It was during this particular Slam Dunk Contest where mini sharks were placed underneath the basket, requiring the contestants to actually jump over them, which signified what was happening to the Slam Dunk Contest at the time. (Bu, dum, ching!) Gone were Michael Jordan, Dominique Wilkens, and Larry Nance – who could dunk two basketballs at once without even dying. Enter the likes of Doug West (como se llama?) and Nick Anderson, another renowned fierce dunking machine. It is hard to imagine that the dunk pictured on this here card was actually converted by Mr. West – it doesn’t appear as though he has a lot of time or leverage left to get that ball in the friggin’ hoop with any kind

*Special Friday edition Ron Harper, 1992-93 Fleer In the early 1990’s, because of lacking attendance, the Los Angeles Clippers would run an annual promotion where you only had to pay half price for admission if you did not have a face. The idea was to have an actual NBA contest resemble a game of “ Double-Dribble ,” a popular Nintendo video game at the time. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Why would you want to go to an NBA game if you did not have any eyes? Or a mouth to eat nachos?” Good question. Counterpoint: Why would you do anything if you did not have a face? Besides, it is obvious from this card that Ron Harper’s game was so sweet, that it transcended the five senses – check the mulleted faceless man in the stands, adequately pumped-up as a result of Harper’s throw-down. As for Harper himself, the back of the card explains that he was “often compared to Michael Jordan because of his acrobatic slams.” I remember, as a kid, having hour-long arguments with my friends, trying

I don’t normally venture into the realm of college football around these here parts. It’s not that I’m not a fan of the NCAA game – I am – it’s just that, well, I don’t really know what the heck I’m talking about. Now obviously, that’s never stopped me before when it comes to other sports, but at least I know enough about baseball, pro football and basketball to give the allusion that I have a clue (i.e., I know several of the players’ names). But college football is so all-encompassing that I can never seem to catch up. There are a million teams, from thousands of conferences, and all the games are played on Saturdays, when I’m usually partaking in the required husband-related duties that will free me up for a full Sunday of pro football. Not to mention – and I’m not ashamed to admit this – I don’t understand the BCS. It’s difficult to be a fan of a sport when you don’t know the rules, and when somebody wins a championship, you’re not exactly sure why. Plus, sometimes you’re not even

Is it Monday yet, ESPN? Why yes, it is! Hey, guess what? Monday blows! Here is a recap of the weekend... Dolphins beat the Bears, 31-13. Chicago will not go undefeated for the first time since 2005. Joey Harrington wakes up this morning on top of a piano, covered in empty wine cooler bottles. Redskins beat Cowboys on game-ending field goal. Terrell Owens would be so much better if he could just, ya’ know… catch . Bills beat Packers. J.P. Losman is just like Brett Favre, if you take away the first 10 years of Brett Favre’s career. Colts beat Pats. This was a big game, until the Pats lost. Now it was just a lowly regular season game. Tom Brady shrugs it off. He didn’t even care about this game. It wasn’t big enough for his tastes. Peyton Manning would win a pointless game like this. Choker. Joe Paterno hurts leg on sidelines during game. Won’t be funny until we’re positively certain he’s okay. Then, it’ll be like this . Or maybe this . Bengals lose again…to Ravens. Chad Johnson cha

Scott Williams, 1991-92 Upper Deck Hey, yo…B.J….what the heck, man? Get the hell out of my basketball card, will ya’? You see the name on the bottom of the card? It says “Scott Williams.” I don’t see your freakin’ name anywhere, B.J. So why don’t you take your help defense, and get the hell out of here, all right? What, you think I can’t handle this punk? He’s got his freakin’ eyes closed, B.J.! He can’t even see you. I got this, aiiight? Look at my reach, B. J. Nobody is getting a sky hook over this reach. Your hand-checking methods aren’t doing anything, and they’re probably gonna earn you a foul, and we’re one foul away from putting them in the bonus. Why don’t you go and cover your man, before we get T’d up for illegal defense. He’s sneaking away over there on the perimeter. I swear, B.J. – if they swing the ball to your guy and we get burned with a three again because you’re over here trying to do MY job, I’m gonna freakin’ rip your heart out of your chest and stomp on it. Stop tr

*Special Friday edition LaPhonso Ellis, 1996-97 Stadium Club Clifford Robinson always seemed to be on the wrong end of big NBA moments. In Game 1 of the 1992 NBA Finals, Michael Jordan scored 35 points in the first half, including six three-pointers, which culminated in the famous Jordan shrug to the sidelines, as if to imply that he could not understand what was happening, although what was happening was that Clifford Robinson was guarding him. “My headband was too tight,” is what Robinson would say in the post-game press conference, to which Jordan replied, “Headbands are for teenage girls and 55 year-old white dudes who play racquetball on the weekends. Clifford Robinson is a bitch.” Four years later, it was déjà vu for Cliff, as he was caught in the crosshairs of yet another watershed NBA moment – the day LaPhonso Ellis made his first jumpshot. Ellis had been in the league since 1993, and after a stellar rookie campaign that included 312 uncontested lay-ups, he would go on to miss

It’s time to take an in-depth look at the New York Knicks, because if we don’t, then nobody will know how their season might turn out, and that would be horrible for everyone involved. Of course, the question on everyone’s mind is, “Just how bad will the Knicks actually be this year?” Worse than last year? Not as bad as two years ago? Better than the Raiders? The answer to this question lies in the hands of one man – super fan Spike Lee, who is, surprisingly, not an actual member of the Knicks’ organization. Nevertheless, he should be, because he is taller than Nate Robinson and definitely more culturally relevant than David Lee. Plus, he knows what “box out” means. Regardless, Spike came by to help me grade the Knicks from top to bottom. It was mostly bottom. Point Guard: Stephon Marbury. My wife is a fan of “Starbury” now, ever since she found out that he released an affordable brand of basketball sneakers for, ya’ know, the kids. They did a news segment on it and everything, where