So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

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...

Luis Sanchez, 1986 Topps *Special Friday edition Luis Sanchez was brought up under the ideology, “Trust no one.” In fact, Sanchez did not even trust the very person who introduced him to this important life lesson – his father – but that may have been due to his father’s ill-conceived wording when doling out advice: “Trust no one . Trust me.” And Luis Sanchez did not trust his own mother either. One day, a young Sanchez arrived home from school to find his mother rummaging through his clothes drawer. It was later discovered that Mrs. Sanchez was simply putting away the clothes she had washed and ironed for her son, but that was no matter to Luis. He never spoke to his mother again, and he immediately initiated his custom of writing his name on every piece of clothing that he owned. “Trust no one,” Luis would mutter to himself as he spent sleepless nights, sharpie in hand, writing his first and last name on opposite butt cheeks of some newly acquired cargo shorts. So when Luis Sanchez m...

Me : Roger, welcome back! Roger Clemens : Thank you…Where am I again? Me : New York. Clemens : Oh yeah. Awesome. You know, I always loved playing in New York, and my family- Me : Roger, Roger, whoa. Stop it. You don’t need to go through that spiel with me. We all know why you’re back here. Clemens : I came back for one reason -- to help the Yankees win a World Series title. I’m very committed to- Me : Holy crap, Roger! Will you stop it already! Is there an off button on your back? Clemens : System error! Me : What? Clemens : What? Me : I have no idea what’s going here. Let’s cut the crap though, Rog. For serious. You came back to the Yankees for the money, and we all know it. That’s the reality. But a lot of Major League Baseball teams have money. What reasons besides money made you decide to come back to the Yankees? Clemens : That’s a great question. I don’t know…probably the money. Me : Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What influence did Andy Pettitte have on your decision? Cleme...

Jeff Montgomery, 1991 Topps If it weren’t for the Royals uniform and the stadium background, this could easily be a picture of Jeff Montgomery on vacation in the Bahamas, as taken by his lovely (I assume) wife. But for Jeff Montgomery, everyday was a day at the beach, even if that beach was technically the barren wasteland also known as the Kansas City Royals organization. No matter to Montgomery, who began each day by putting on his practice uni, grabbing his Royals sun visor, popping the cassette single of Technotronic’s “Pump Up the Jam” into his iPod walkman, and fast-walking three laps around the stadium. And hey, if somebody stopped him and wanted to take his picture, for say, a baseball card, or even a “Kansas City Royals’ 1991 Studs of the Bullpen Calendar,” that was cool with Jeff Montgomery. Snap away. Actually though… is that a visor? I’m not exactly sure. I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life. It almost looks as if Montgomery is wearing a fitted Royals hat b...

Alex Cole, 1991 Topps Few players struck fear into the hearts of opposing pitchers quite like Alex Cole. Some say it was the thick, oversized glasses, which not only protected his face from errant fastballs, but also gave him 7-7 vision, which led the league. (“Vision” was a statistical category in 1990, before it was replaced by “OPS.”) Others say it was the condescending smile. Said Roger Clemens in 1991: “Of all the players I hate facing, Alex Cole has to be at the top of the list. He has this smile, like he knows something that I don’t know. Like he slept with my sister or something. I tried to beam him in the eyes one time and the ball bounced of his glasses and over the wall for a three-run home run. I hate that guy.” Still, others claim that it was Cole’s penchant for trash talk that made it hard to focus on the mound. Among Alex Cole’s hit list of hurled insults are the following: To Frank Viola : “Yo! You got nicer jheri curls than my mom!” To Nolan Ryan : “Eat this, hick!” To...

Jim Pankovits, 1989 Upper Deck *Special Friday edition Jim Pankovits was caught off guard by this particular photo. And Jim Pankovits didn’t like it. Not one bit. The Astros were about to start taking batting practice during a beautiful May afternoon back in 1988. Pankovits, as was his custom, walked towards the center field fence to relieve himself. Yes, he could have used the clubhouse bathroom, but two weeks beforehand, a noticeably drunk Pankovits had peed himself during a game, to the delight of his teammates. The Astros, who were struggling mightily at the time, went on to win that game in extra innings. The superstitious Pankovits promised the team that he would urinate on the field before every game, in order to keep the streak alive. And it worked, because at the time this photo was taken, the Astros had won 10 straight games. Anyways, Pankovits had just finished his business, and when he turned around to zip himself up – baseball pants traditionally don’t have zippers, but Pa...

Our baseball trip this year did not stop in Philadelphia. Since we were staying local, my wife and I decided to kill two birds with one stone and head down to Washington, DC, and catch a Nationals game as well. I had never spent significant time in our nation’s capital, and subconsciously associated the city with only two things: a) the President, and b) murder. Since I don’t delve into politics here, I will not make a joke wondering whether or not those two things are mutually exclusive. Nevertheless, because of the murder part, we were trying to be careful about where we were going to stay. My original intent, quite foolishly, was to stay as close to RFK Stadium as possible, since, during our four-day stay in DC, we would be going to one game there. I know, it makes no sense, and I’m glad somebody alerted me to that beforehand, because when we did go to RFK, the surrounding area looked considerably less presidential than one would think. We ended up staying in the Dupont Circle secti...

Jack McKeon, 1989 Topps The original “grumpy old man,” Jack McKeon looks like the 70-year-old offspring of Yogi Berra and Walter Matthau in this picture. He doesn’t look anything like the Jack McKeon who resurrected the 2003 Florida Marlins just in time for them to win the Wild Card and eventually the World Series. Until, that is, McKeon immediately wore out his welcome with incessant ramblings about expensive sneakers – “In my day we attached thumbtacks to the bottom of cardboard boxes and called ‘em ‘spikes.’ You kids are a bunch of spoiled sons of bitches!” - the Japanese, and the unheralded dominance of Three Fingers McGee. Originally from South Amboy, NJ, McKeon earned the nickname “Trader Jack” after he dealt away a rare Walter Johnson-used stirrup to the British for an area of land now known as “the Jersey Shore.” After several unsuccessful attempts to ban, among other things, bikinis (“too revealing”), beach balls (“too big and unpredictable”), pretzels (“too knotty”), and wat...

*Special Friday edition Lance McCullers, 1988 Score Hey, listen, I’m no baseball coach or anything. But this just can’t be the way you’re supposed to pitch a baseball. Arm moving violently forward, body moving backwards, eyes pretty much closed…I don’t know, maybe I’m the crazy one. But it seems like Lance McCullers – immediately after the pitch has left his hand – is already recoiling in horror at the idea of where the pitch may end up. It does not appear, as I was once taught many years ago, that Lance McCullers is going to finish his motion in position to field a ground ball back to the pitcher. It appears as if Lance McCullers is going to finish his motion on his back, doing reverse somersaults into center field. Then again, it could be that Lance McCullers’ fastball is so fast, that it blows even him away. The back of the card elaborates: Lance…enjoys challenging hitters with his blazing fastball. Well then. That explains it. But let’s find out more about Lance: He was used as a ...