John Lowenstein, 1982 Topps #747

Congratulations are due for Melvin Mora, John Lowenstein, and Gary Roenicke, the three newest members of the Orioles Hall of Fame. It's only fitting that both members of the great Baltimore outfield platoon of the late 1970s and early 1980s will be inducted together, and of course Melvin Mora's decade in Baltimore (.280/.355/.438, 158 HR, 662 RBI, two All-Star appearances) is worthy of recognition as well. If you'd like to hear the acceptance speeches of Melvin and Gary (Brother Lo has a previous commitment and cannot attend), be sure to show up early for the August 14 game at Camden Yards against the Athletics.

Ken Singleton, 1982 Topps #552

Enjoy the All-Star Game, if you're so inclined. Back in the days when you could tell an All-Star by the cyan stars and magenta stripes on his card, Ken Singleton was a three-time participant in the Midsummer Classic for the O's. 1981 was his final All-Star appearance, as the 34-year-old batted .278 and got on base at a .380 clip. In a strike-shortened 103 games, he hit 13 home runs and drove in 49. In what was Ken's only All-Star start, he manned left field and went 2-for-3 with a solo home run. However, the National League notched a 5-4 comeback win thanks to a rare Rollie Fingers blown save. Let's hope the American Leaguers have a better time of it tonight.

Dennis Martinez, 1982 Topps #712

Dennis Martinez will return to the major leagues next year as the Houston Astros' new bullpen coach. "El Presidente" was most recently an instructor in the Cardinals' organization, but now he'll be answering the phone when manager Bo Porter calls for a reliever. Not a bad gig, all things considered.

Ken Singleton, 1982 Topps #290

I started this blog four and a half years ago as an outlet for all of the babbling that I might do about 1) my rediscovered joy for collecting baseball cards, 2) my memories, opinions, and hastily-assembled research about the Orioles, and 3) anything else that might come to mind. One of the unexpected and pleasant results of writing about my O's collection has been the feedback I've received from collectors and Birds fans of all types. I've even had the opportunity to meet a few of you, and it's always a rewarding experience.

Yesterday, I got to spend some time with Mike Siegert, who collected cards with his son Josh for years. They completed a number of sets from the 1980s and 1990s, including the 1982 Topps set that marked the year of Josh's birth (and mine as well, incidentally). But their proudest achievement was compiling all of the Orioles team sets from Topps' base sets dating back to 1954. I'm also going to go out on a limb and assume that Josh was a better athlete than me in his school days; he spent three years pitching for the baseball team at St. Mary's College in Maryland.

Josh was a passenger in his friend Jonathan's car in the early morning hours of March 12, 2003. The car struck a utility pole near the St. Mary's campus and both driver and passenger were unfortunately pronounced dead at the scene. Mike, a high school teacher in Howard County, and his wife Maryanne chose to honor their son's memory and celebrate his life by establishing the Joshua L. Siegert Memorial Scholarship for Future Educators. The scholarship is awarded annually to benefit students enrolled in the Master of Arts in Teaching Program at St. Mary's who qualify based on academic merit and financial need. If you wish to make a contribution, you can donate to the Joshua L. Siegert Memorial Scholarship Fund, Office of Development, St. Mary's College of Maryland, 18952 E. Fisher Road, St. Mary's City, MD 20686-3001.

Mike has held onto the binders and boxes containing thousands of Mike's baseball cards for nine years, but he wrote to me a few weeks back to offer me the Babe Ruth card from the Maryland Lottery set that I'm collecting, and told me that he and his wife were looking to pare down the collection. Mike didn't have it in him to sell the cards on eBay or to take them around to flea markets. He wanted to offer the cards to me, if I would be interested in taking them. I was humbled by the offer and told him so, but I also assured him that I would appreciate the cards and put them to good use if that was what he really wanted. We made arrangements for a pickup at Mike's house yesterday afternoon.

There's always a sense of apprehension when meeting a complete stranger, but Mike (wearing his orange T-Shirt Thursday Matt Wieters/Nick Markakis Gold Glove tee) made me feel welcomed right away. He greeted me warmly and showed me the stacked boxes piled in the living room and dining room, giving me a final chance to back out. But I wouldn't have left him hanging unless he was trying to unload a couple cases of 1989 Topps or something. We talked excitedly about Orioles players and teams past and present (back-to-back series wins in New York and Boston!), I rambled a bit about my collecting history and interests, and Mike let me know a bit more about Josh. He also showed off the relatively few cards he'd be keeping, the 1982 Topps base and traded sets and the full Topps Orioles collection. We filled the back seat and trunk of my car, and visited a little longer before I noticed that it was 1:00 PM and I was due to meet my friend Mikey for lunch. As Mike S. remarked, we probably could have spent the rest of the afternoon conversing about baseball. It's always energizing to meet someone with whom you share those common interests.

I want to take this opportunity to publicly thank Mike for reading and enjoying the blog and for generously sharing such a significant portion of his son Josh's legacy with me. I'm sure we'll run into one another at Camden Yards soon. In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to get organized and see what awaits me.

Mark Belanger, 1982 Topps #776

There's something about a baseball card depicting Mark Belanger at bat that just seems mean, like they're making fun of him. Moreover, what is with the bat boy in the background? Is that Paul Williams? Is that the most bizarre pop culture reference that I've made on this blog? Is this week over yet?

Mike Flanagan, 1982 Topps #520

I intended to take this week off from the blog, but these are bizarre and unfortunate circumstances. At 4:26 this afternoon, police were called to Mike Flanagan's property in Sparks, MD, with reports of a male body being spotted on the trail to his barn. Hours later, it was confirmed that the body was identified as Flanagan, age 59. Details are still few and far between, but Baltimore has lost a star pitcher, a coach, a front office executive, and a broadcaster all in one. More importantly, his family lost a husband and father. There's nothing I can tell you about Flanny's playing career that you won't hear elsewhere: 1979 Cy Young Award winner, 3 postseason victories, 12-4 with a 3.30 ERA for the 1983 champs, combined with 3 other pitchers to no-hit Oakland in 1991, was the last O's pitcher on the mound in Memorial Stadium, fifth in team history with 141 wins.

I'll tell you a bit about what Mike Flanagan means to me. The second entry I ever wrote on this blog was about him, and a card that had been in my possession for as long as I could remember. Each of the past two years, he was in the MASN broadcast booth for the network's blogger event at Camden Yards. He took time out of his pregame routine to meet with our ragtag group and answer our questions. He was casual and warm, and shared some entertaining stories from his long Oriole career. This past June, we were running behind schedule and he still took time away from his pregame meal to spend a few minutes with us. It was truly appreciated.

Hats off to Mike Flanagan. I've never heard anyone say a bad word about him, and I hope this story doesn't get sadder.

Terry Crowley, 1982 Topps #232

In news that comes as a relief to most Orioles fans (myself included), Terry Crowley's 12-year run as the team's hitting coach has come to an end. The surprising thing is that it was reportedly his decision. Buck Showalter offered him a spot on his staff for the 2011 season, and the Crow initially agreed before reconsidering. He has accepted a new role as "organization-wide offensive evaluator", whatever that means.

It's hard to believe that Crowley maintained his post through a dozen years of losing, outlasting five managers and one interim skipper. Pro sports are known for the impermanence of coaching jobs, especially when on-field results are poor. In this case, the O's ranked in the bottom half of the American League in OPS in 8 of the last 12 seasons, and were in the bottom half in runs scored 11 times. The sole exception was 2004, when they were an underwhelming sixth-best with 842 runs. Even that little bit of mediocrity took career years from Miguel Tejada and Melvin Mora and a strong effort from Javy Lopez...it was an expensive sixth-place finish.

It's hard to figure out just how much of the blame Crow deserves for the Birds' anemic offense through the years. Some of the best hitters he's coached, including Nick Markakis, rave about his tutelage. But isn't it possible that Markakis is a star because he's talented, and not because of the coaching he's received? Besides, his career hasn't progressed the way most expected; his home runs and OPS have dropped since peaking at .897 in 2008. Besides, Nick himself publicly questioned the offensive approach of his teammates last June, saying that it looked like they had no plan. Shouldn't Crowley be held responsible?

Some might say that you couldn't expect a hitting coach to make chicken salad out of chicken crap, and the Geronimo Gils and Deivi Cruzes of the world are more the latter. But the best coaches coax lesser players to perform above their talent level, don't they?

I'm asking questions, and I don't have many answers. I'm sure Terry Crowley is a great guy, and he certainly has his fans in the game of baseball. But I'm perfectly happy to give someone else a chance to go to work with Baltimore's batters.

Bob Bonner, Cal Ripken, Jr., and Jeff Schneider, 1982 Topps #21

This is one of the more iconic cards in my collection, although when it comes to monetary value it's a far cry from the 1982 Topps Traded card that features Cal Ripken, Jr. all by his lonesome. I don't yet have the latter, and I don't think I've even seen it in physical form. I'm sure a few copies of it will be on display tomorrow at Baltimore's Convention Center, where I will be attending the official first day of the National Sports Collectors Convention. I had some idea that this show was a big deal, based on this article written by Bill Simmons a year ago. I became aware several months ago that this Big Deal was coming to my hometown, as fellow card bloggers were emailing back and forth trying to nail down plans for the weekend. As happenstance would have it, tomorrow is my birthday...I may have mentioned that once or twice in the past week. This is like the perfect storm for a cardboard-loving nerdlinger like myself.

Needless to say, I'm giving myself a bit more leeway than I usually do when it comes to the ol' cardboard budget. I'm also taking off of work a few hours early to maximize my browsing time, though I've been forewarned by those in the know that mere hours probably won't be enough to get my fill. On the contrary, a shortened agenda may be all that keeps me from bankruptcy. I'll report back in a few days with my haul.

Gary Roenicke, 1982 Topps #204

I appreciate the overwhelmingly supportive response to last night's bitter, over-the-top post. However, the 2009 season is now in the past, so I will gladly take a walk on the bright side, which should be a relief to the vocal minority of readers.

This is one of the cards that has been in my collection forever, longer than I've even been a collector. Before I ever knew who Gary Roenicke was, I thumbed through a stack of cards and found him grinning back at me. Though this card was probably only six or seven years old when it came into my possession, it seemed positively ancient. Sure, I was born in 1982, but I only had four cards from that year and two from 1981. Even cards from the 1970s were a mysterious rumor to me.

Not knowing Roenicke from Adam, my first impression of him was this relaxed, harmless, happy-go-lucky guy. It's a great candid photo. It looks like he was posing for Topps's photographer, because I can't imagine that any player actually lounges around the field like that, kneeling and propped up on his bat. But in the middle of the photo session, John Lowenstein comes by and cracks a joke or does a little pantomime behind the photographer's bat and catches Gary off guard. Thinking quickly, the paparazzi of the diamond shoots away and gets a excellent picture.

It's a good thing that my introduction to Gary came by way of this card, instead of this one. Otherwise, I might harbor some irrational fear of him to this very day.

Eddie Murray, 1982 Topps #390

I can't believe I've featured almost 150 cards on this blog and it took me this long to get to Eddie Murray. Considering the well-documented truth that #33 is just plain badass, I actually fear for my safety should the Hall of Famer ever learn that I turned my focus to the likes of Rocky Coppinger and Jack Voigt before I gave him his due. Eddie could disassemble my vital organs with nothing more than a five-second stare. So this will be our little secret.

I'm not sure why I haven't had anything to say about Murray before now. Even the fact that I chose him today has mostly to do with a sense of "Holy crap, I still haven't done Eddie". It might have something to do with my late blooming as an O's fan. By the time I started rooting for the black and orange, he was two teams and five years removed from Baltimore, wearing Mets pinstripes. Sure, he'd return to Charm City during the 1996 pennant chase in time for his 500th home run, but I never got to see Eddie Murray in his prime, as the driving force of the Birds' offense and one of the most feared hitters in the league.

Just looking at this card gives me a sense of the Eddie Murray of old, though. Lean, athletic build, intense stare, and of course the awe-inspiring afro/blade sideburns/mustache combo. He's striding forward, bat starting to uncoil, prepared to blast the ball into the stratosphere. It looks like he's wearing road grays, but you can bet that back in Baltimore, the fans are tuned into WBAL listening for the crack of the bat. They jump out of their chairs, pump their fists in their cars, and their voices join as one...

"ED-DIE! ED-DIE! ED-DIE!"

Steve Stone, 1982 Topps #419

This is my first special request card, courtesy of my Uncle Jeff, who called last night to inform me that he had lost an entire evening while reading this blog and my NumerOlogy website. I'm happy to accommodate his request, since he has been a die-hard Orioles fan for his entire life and has played an important role in my own fandom. This Steve Stone card was one of the first (and oldest) cards in my collection, part of the mysterious stack of 1980s cardboard that came into my possession before I was even following baseball myself. It may have come from Uncle Jeff; at any rate, he's augmented my collection greatly throughout the years, including the recent generous donation of the entirety of his own collection. My uncle got me involved in fantasy baseball ten years ago, and I always look forward to talking sports with him at family gatherings.

In recent years, he's lost a lot of his passion for the sport, having been disillusioned by the usual suspects: the labor disputes, the steroid taint, and of course a decade of mismanagement by the Orioles' brass. So it was a great compliment when Uncle Jeff called and told me that my writing reminded him of the good times, the rich and colorful history of the Baltimore Orioles. In that spirit, he asked me to feature Steve Stone in this space. He vividly recalls Stone's magical 1980 season, in which he won a team-record 25 games and posted a 3.23 ERA to capture the last Cy Young Award to date by an Oriole. He owned one-quarter of the O's 100 victories, as the team fell three games short of the division champion Yankees.

My uncle described Stone's season as amazing, and it truly was, especially in the context of his own career. Setting aside 1980, Steve's career high in wins was 15 in 1977 (with the White Sox). In eleven years, only three times did his ERA meet the league average. Most incredible - and unfortunate - of all, Stoney pitched only twelve games in 1981 before calling it a career. The card at the top of this entry is his last.

The truth is that Steve Stone sacrificed everything for one great season. He consciously chose to throw more curveballs in 1980. As he said later, "I knew it would ruin my arm. But one year of 25-7 is worth five of 15-15." Still, the amount of pitches he threw were probably just as damaging as the type of pitch he threw. Stone started 37 games that year, five more than any other year in his career. In those 37 games he pitched 250 and two-thirds innings, obliterating his previous best of 214 and one-third. That kind of workload is bound to take a toll on a 32-year-old pitcher.

Uncle Jeff's warm remembrances would seem to indicate that Steve Stone had a point. Given the choice between one year of greatness and five years of mediocrity, what would you choose?