Wayne Gross, 1986 Topps #173

I hope everyone is continuing to find ways to take care of yourselves (mentally and physically) and stay connected to loved ones as we creep up on two months of stay-at-home efforts. We had a very good weekend on those fronts, and the beautiful weather here in Baltimore helped a lot.

Friday marked seven years since I proposed to Janet, and seven years since she said yes. (Spoiler alert!) In our ongoing effort to support local business, I ordered some festive beverages from DuClaw Brewing and a birthday cake-flavored ice cream pie from the Charmery, all for curbside pickup. After dinner and dessert, we put Finn to bed and dialed in to a Zoom call with more than a dozen friends from my college theatre department. We came together to read and act out a series of thirty short - two minutes on average - comedic scenes that we'd originally performed as undergrads back in the early 2000s. We had a blast, and spent a few hours afterward reminiscing over drinks. The plan is to do it again soon with a more extensive cast. In the meantime, I'll try to figure out how it's possible that I went away to college TWENTY years ago.

Saturday we took a picnic lunch to a nearby park, and then let the little man splash around in the creek until it was time to head home. Later that evening, Janet had a video chat with three of her oldest friends, and we played some online party games with them.

As for Sunday, well...I spent most of the afternoon attacking the jungle grass on the far side of our property with a weed whacker. So that wasn't fun, but I got some fresh air and sun and finally made a dent in the Effectively Wild podcasts that have been piling up since my daily commute disappeared. Plus, we still had some ice cream pie left for dessert.

Today, it was back to the teleworking grind, but our "new normal" weekend filled my tank for a while. And my latest old ballgame discovery on YouTube helped me pass a couple hours: an HTS broadcast of an Athletics at Orioles ballgame from June 2, 1985. I won't spoil the outcome, but I will say that Wayne Gross played a surprisingly prominent role.

Rick Dempsey, 1986 Topps #726

Rick Dempsey is adrift in a hazy field of white, much like all of us here in Baltimore. It's been an unusually snowy winter in the Mid-Atlantic region, but even so we haven't had any truly heavy snowfalls yet. The storm that just started an hour or so ago promises to be the heaviest of the year, with my neighborhood projected in the four-to-ten inches range. At any rate, I've already got the day off tomorrow and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a five-day weekend. If nothing else, it would make Friday's drive down to North Carolina to visit the in-laws a little more of a relaxing proposition. Anyhow, if you're anywhere in the path of this frosty precipitation, hunker down if you can and be careful if you must take to the roads. I'll be housebound on Thursday, and I prefer it that way.

Al Pardo, 1986 Topps #279

Last night I posted a 1982 Topps card to commemorate the year of my birth. I didn't have time to write my usual self-indulgent birthday post today, but it was a good day. I'll do some show and tell from the National tomorrow, but for now I present a 1986 Topps card in honor of Ryan Petzar, an Orioles and Phillies fan from York, PA. I've gotten to know Ryan via Twitter, which is one of those uses that I never imagined when I signed up for an account a few years ago. Today we finally met at a Q and A/meet-and-greet session that was hosted by Topps at the Convention Center. Since Ryan is a young'un and was born in 1986, this set appeals greatly to his nostalgic side.

Because I chose the most anonymous Oriole in the set, I'll offer a bit of biographic info. Al Pardo is one of just four players in major league history to have been born in Spain (Oviedo, specifically). His middle name is Judas, oddly enough. He played 34 games for the O's as a rookie in 1985, hitting a sizzling .133 with a single run batted in. The following year he returned for 16 games and "improved" to .137 with a home run (against Chicago's Joe Cowley) and three RBI. After leaving the Birds, he played only three more MLB games, all with the Phillies in 1988-1989. He was 0-for-3 to leave his career average at .132 with a .322 OPS and an OPS+ of -11.

Hey, he played for the Orioles and the Phillies. I swear that I didn't even plan for that when I picked this card. Spooky.

Gary Roenicke, 1986 Topps #494

This Day in Orioles History: May 25, 1982

Orioles 10, Rangers 3 at Arlington Stadium, Arlington, TX

Jim Palmer won the 250th game of his storied career, scattering nine hits and two walks in eight and one-third innings, but the offense was the story as the O's (20-21) showed signs of life while downing the bottom-feeding Rangers (11-26).

The Baltimore bats were relentless, as the team scored in five different innings and put up crooked numbers three times. With Eddie Murray sidelined due to tendinitis in his left hand, Gary Roenicke started at first base and did his best impression of #33, bashing a pair of two-run home runs and adding a single and a walk in five trips to the plate. His usual platoon partner, John Lowenstein, also went deep as part of a three-RBI night. Al Bumbry set the table with three hits from the leadoff spot, rookie third baseman Cal Ripken, Jr. (who would start the first of a record 2,632 consecutive games later that week) had a single in five at-bats, and the only Oriole starter without a hit was shortstop Bobby Bonner.

After starting the season with a thud (6-12 in April), the O's righted the ship in May (17-12), and posted a winning record in every month for the rest of the year, culminating in an incredible season-ending showdown with the first-place Brewers. The Birds won the first three games of the four-game set to tie Milwaukee before Palmer faltered in the finale. In a touching scene, the Baltimore fans remained in the stands at Memorial Stadium and roared their approval and thanks for retiring manager Earl Weaver.

Floyd Rayford, 1986 Topps #623

I never like to write several downer entries in a row, so what better way to rebound from yesterday's rant than a cameo from Sugar Bear? Take a look at that lovable, roly-poly face and tell me whether you'd think to stick Floyd at the hot corner. I feel kind of sorry for him, as he spent parts of seven seasons in the majors, six of them with the Birds. In the middle of 1983, they traded Rayford to the Cardinals, eventually receiving Tito Landrum in return. Tito played an important role in the O's championship run, batting .310 in limited action and stroking the game-winning home run in the decisive fourth game of the ALCS. Meanwhile, the Orioles reacquired Floyd on the eve of the 1984 campaign. He was out of the organization just long enough to miss out on a World Series win.

My uncle loved to give Rayford a hard time. Several times he's told me about the days when he and a good friend would buy some cheap seats in old Memorial Stadium, toss back a couple of beers, and shout "FLOOOOYYYYYDDDD!" at the top of their lungs. On one occasion, they came to realize that Floyd wasn't even in the game that day. Of course, I have a feeling it wouldn't have mattered to them anyway. So for J.T., here's one more for the road...

"FLOOOOOOYYYYYDDDDD!"

Mike Flanagan, 1986 Topps #365

Keeping with the "early memories" theme, this is the first Orioles card that I remember owning. I had a small assortment of 1980s Topps cards in my early childhood, though I didn't actively start collecting until I was ten. Those initial cards were probably given to me by my uncle, who was an avid collector at the time. Or maybe my father got them somewhere. I'll have to ask around.

Obviously the bold, colorful design of 1986 Topps would appeal to a child who was learning his colors and words. I even remember playing "Go Fish" with my mother. Instead of matching playing card numbers, you'd match team names. Simple enough. "Got any Cardinals?" "Go fish." It's reminiscent of a simpler time, when baseball cards were traded and handled lovingly, and *gasp* played with...instead of viewed as an investment or a piece of memorabilia to be locked away in a sterile casing. Still, I must admit that the notions of "flipping" cards, or of sticking them between the spokes of your bicycle for auditory pleasure are a little beyond even my comprehension.

I'm generally a sentimental person, but I'll admit that older isn't always better. Let's take a look at Flanny's picture up there. It's a decent action shot of the lefty in mid-windup, back to the camera. But what really leaps out at me is that thick, tri-color elastic waistband. That thing is just an eyesore, and is not exactly flattering to Mike's figure. So you can imagine how it looked on a teammate with a less athletic build, say Floyd Rayford for example. Say what you will about the follies of baseball in the 1990s, the labor strife and the taint of the Steroid Era...at least they came to their senses and started wearing belts and button-down shirts again, like grown men should.