Fred Lynn, 1988 Fleer #566

So there's this thing I do on this blog (or used to, in the long-ago when I didn't have to be shamed into writing by my restless readers) where I project thoughts, fears, delusions, etc. into the minds of the players pictured on my cards. For instance, even though this photo was snapped nearly 30 years ago, I might suggest that Fred Lynn is wondering what the hell we've all done to deserve a year like 2016. By now you know my personal laundry list of difficulties over the past calendar year: my wife's breast cancer diagnosis in March at 24 weeks pregnant (coinciding with the death of her grandmother), her subsequent treatment before and after our son Finn's June birth, Finn's cleft lip repair surgery in September, the financial stress of paying two mortgages until we finally rented out our old rowhouse IN NOVEMBER...hell, since the last time I posted back in *cough* October, my car battery went kaput and various tow truck snafus stranded me in my workplace parking lot for three-plus hours...and three weeks later, Janet got hit by an elderly driver making an ill-advised left turn just a few blocks from our home, WITH Finn in the car. (They're both fine, and her car will be, with Geico picking up the tab.) So I have plenty of reasons to tell 2016 to go piss up a rope before we even start talking about climate change, or Syria, or the Zika virus, or Brexit, or the neverending roll call of public figures dying, or Donald Effing Trump.

And yet...2016 brought me this daily source of joy, wonder, and warmth.

That's one major exception that proves the rule. As I've taken to saying in recent months, thanks for the baby, 2016. Now go away and never come back.

Eric Bell, 1988 Fleer #555

Hooray for the red, white, and blue! And Eric "Liberty" Bell! And completely mailing it in for a holiday-themed blog post! Drink some beer, eat some burgers, watch some things explode, but be safe.

Eddie Murray, 1988 Fleer #567

Alright, enough futzing around with the lesser lights of the 1990s Orioles. The 2012 team has hit a mini-skid at a very inopportune time, so I'm coming out with guns blazing. Steady Eddie it is! May he watch over the Orioles with his intense brown eyes and guide their way with his powerful, crushinating hands. If the mystical spectre of Eddie Murray Classic isn't enough to bless the O's with swift reflexes and prodigious power, then maybe their self-appointed good luck charm will give them a boost. I'll be there with orange on tonight, camped out in the bleachers on Eutaw Street. The finish line is so close now!

John Habyan, 1988 Fleer #562

It was only two years ago that I was so frustrated by the Orioles' latest fiasco in Fenway Park that I was fantasizing out loud about committing arson and public urination. Even last year, when the O's spoiled Boston's postseason plans, the boys in orange and black still dropped 6 of their 9 road games in the season series and were cumulatively outscored 72-48. So I don't care how unseemly it might be, I'm going to gloat over the Birds' current seven-game winning streak in the home of the Red Sox. The franchise hadn't won seven in a row in Boston since 1906, back when they were the St. Louis Browns and the games were being contested in the Huntington Avenue Baseball Grounds. Brian Matusz can help Baltimore set a new franchise record and cap a second consecutive three-game sweep in Fenway when he takes the mound later tonight. If I were a Sawx fan, my skin might crawl each time I heard a gloating Orioles fan snidely refer to my home ballpark as "Camden North". Just remember, Beantowners: paybacks are hell.

Jim Dwyer, 1988 Fleer #558

When Jim Dwyer arrived at the ballpark that afternoon, Billy Ripken offered him a coffee. Jim was running late for his photo shoot with Fleer, so he accepted it gladly and gulped it down in no time. There was something odd about the flavor, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Ten minutes later, as he posed with his bat resting on his left shoulder, he had a sudden and awful realization. Billy had done it again.

Mark Williamson, 1988 Fleer #574

I summon Mark Williamson from the Orioles' bullpen to be the ultimate slump buster. Sure, the Birds have lost six in a row to tumble below .500, that familiar and unwelcome status quo. But when Williamson took the mound on April 29, 1988, the O's were 0-21 and playing for their second manager of the young season. He was making only the fourth start of his career that day in Chicago. Mark and all of his teammates took out their frustrations over their own record-setting futility on the White Sox. The Baltimore righthander held the home team to three hits in six shutout innings in the longest scoreless appearance of his career. The Oriole batters provided seven runs of support, with Cal Ripken, Jr. and Eddie Murray each hitting a home run. Ripken went 4-for-5 and also had a double and scored three runs. Dave Schmidt earned a less traditional save with three one-hit innings of relief. The Birds saddled White Sox rookie Jack McDowell with the second loss of his career and season and gained a half-game on idle division leader Cleveland. At day's end, the Orioles were 15.5 games out of first place with less than a month of the season having passed.

So in that context, busting up a little six-game skid should be a piece of cake.

Mike Griffin, 1988 Fleer #561

I would wager that Mike Griffin is one of the most anonymous pitchers in Orioles history. He's got the complete package: totally generic name, a resume that includes five teams in parts of six major league seasons, and a grand Baltimore total of 23 games for a lousy 1987 club. That season saw a league-wide offensive explosion, and the Birds were so desperate to find pitchers that could get a few guys out (5.01 team ERA and a league-worst 226 HR allowed), they called out to the 30-year-old Griffin, who hadn't seen any major league action since 1982. The journeyman wasn't awful, winning three and losing five with a 4.36 ERA that was actually a bit above league average. Among O's pitchers with at least fifty innings in 1987, Mike was third in earned run average. Still, he was back in Rochester in 1988, and took no part in that debacle.

Today, Mike Griffin is having a greater impact on the Orioles than he ever did as a player. Last year, he joined the AA Bowie Baysox as pitching coach and mentored a whole rotation full of promising young hurlers, including Chris Tillman (11-4, 3.18 ERA, 10.2 K/9), David Hernandez (10-4, 2.68 ERA, 10.6 K/9), Jason Berken (12-4, 3.58 ERA), and last year's Orioles minor league pitcher of the year, Brad Bergesen (15-6, 3.22 ERA), who is now on the O's staff. The organization moved Griffin up to AAA Norfolk this year, and he and his pitchers have picked up where they left off. The first-place tides are 23-12, and the staff has a 3.19 ERA. Hernandez, Berken, and Tillman have combined to go 9-1 with a 2.28 ERA and 92 strikeouts in 86 and two-thirds innings.

Mike Griffin is molding the minds and arms that the Orioles are counting on to bring them back to the top of the American League. I'm sure you would have guessed it just by looking at him (or his card) twenty years ago.

Don Aase, 1988 Fleer #553

10 Other Occupations for Don Aase, If He Hadn't Become a Baseball Player

1. Wild West Bandido

2. Walrus Whisperer

3. Frontman for a Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young tribute band

4. Trucker

5. Fur Trapper

6. "Before" model in a mustache wax infomercial

7. Civil War General

8. The first man to donate his mustache to "Locks of Love"

9. Italian Plumber

10. Founder of Mustaches Anonymous