This is the Mona Lisa of baseball cards, says I. Instead of a knowing smirk, Steady Eddie wears an icy-cool stare. The juxtaposition of his game face and the wide smile of the cartoon bird on his cap is pitch perfect. His afro glistens in the afternoon soon as though it were ringed with fire. His mutton chops join with his mustache to create an unbreakable wreath of hair from his skull to his face and back again. Of course I don't have to tell you that Eddie puts the soul in the soul patch, a finishing touch that he pulls off with aplomb.
If I had my way, this card would hang in the National Portrait Gallery.
3 comments:
Kevin, you are really on a hot streak when it comes to posting great cards. This is such a great one.
Thanks for posting it!
I figure as a kid Eddie Murray taught me about faith and belief. That name like a ritual chant a prayer an act of devotion and hope: "Ed-die. Ed-die. Ed-die." More often than not, I guess, he didn't send the ball up into the dark night sky and out over the distant (or if in the right spot, not so distant) Memorial Stadium outfield wall ... to comeback, victory, release, dare I say salvation. But it always seemed he could, he would. in large part because so often he did. What a gift, a blessing, a joy, it was to grow up an Eddie Murray fan in Baltimore in the early 80s.
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