Mike Devereaux, 1992 Upper Deck #209

Today I'll show the last pair of autographs that I received at FanFest last Saturday. The first, from Mike Devereaux, is already ticketed to another collector. Alan Diddle was unsuccessful in obtaining Devo's signature through a mail request, and I'd already gotten the former center fielder's autograph at a previous appearance in 2009. So I'm trading this fine specimen for Alan's spare Ken Singleton autographed card, a 1984 Donruss. I love it when a plan comes together.

This is the first time I've gotten a current Oriole's John Hancock on a non-Oriole card. But I own exactly two Lew Ford cards, both from his mid-2000s tenure with the Twins, so I decided to mix it up a little. Lew didn't seem to have a problem scrawling his name on a cardboard reminder of his previous baseball life, though he joked with one of the FanFest volunteers that they should install a conveyer belt to help make the process more efficient. I kind of pitied the nonpaid workers supervising the autograph stations, as their pleas for the fans to keep moving and to refrain from taking personal photos with the players mostly fell on deaf ears. But I guess that's what happens when you charge $15 for an autograph session, no matter how charitable the cause: folks are going to try to get their money's worth.

Chris Hoiles, 1992 Upper Deck #183

Questions raised by this photo:

-Who taught Matt Nokes how to execute a hard slide? He looks like he's trying to play patty-cake.

-Was he safe or out? It looks like Chris Hoiles missed the ball, but it's Spring Training for the umpires, too.

-Most importantly, who is standing at the backstop, and why are they wearing shorts?

Dwight Evans, 1992 Upper Deck #248

Here's a fun little trifle from the High Heat Stats blog: on July 16, 1991, the Orioles played a road game against the Angels. Dwight Evans (age 39 years, 255 days) started in right field for the O's and batted cleanup. He went 0-for-4. Dave Winfield (age 39 years, 286 days) started in right field for the Halos and batted cleanup as well. He went 0-for-3. Combined, they were the oldest pair of starting right fielders in any game in baseball history. It was actually the fifth time they played that season, so that was the game that established the mark. If you're wondering (and haven't clicked the link to the box score yet), Jeff Robinson held the Angels to two hits in seven innings but took a 2-1 loss. Mark Williamson inherited two runners in the eighth and coughed up a scant 1-0 lead. Mark Langston went the distance for the home team, striking out seven and permitting six hits. A Leo Gomez home run in the second inning accounted for the lone Baltimore run, and came one batter after David Segui singled and was thrown out trying for a double. Thanks, David.

Ah, I never get tired of finding new reasons to beat on David Segui, I said nervously, while wondering about the kinds of things people will throw in my face 20 years down the line.

Leo Gomez, 1992 Upper Deck #161

Congratulations to Leo Gomez, who was named the manager of the Aberdeen IronBirds yesterday. The IronBirds, of course, are Baltimore's short-season low-A affiliate in the New York-Penn League. The club is owned by the Ripkens and briefly employed yours truly as an unpaid marketing intern (and eventually a temporary "consultant") in the fall of 2004. Other former Orioles who have managed the IronBirds include Don Buford and Andy Etchebarren. No word on whether Leo will bring those sweet Rec Specs to Ripken Stadium with him.

Cal Ripken, Jr. and Billy Ripken, 1992 Upper Deck #82

Cal and Billy Ripken each made their major league debuts in Baltimore's Memorial Stadium, out on 33rd Street. Both were on the field for the final MLB game ever played there. A few weeks ago, Charm City's most famous brothers broke ground on the site where that stadium once stood. They were on hand to announce that a new park was being built there - a miniature replica of Memorial Stadium intended to be the first of several nationwide Youth Development Parks for underprivileged children. It's part of the Cal Ripken, Sr. Foundation's Swing for the Future initiative. There were several other local dignitaries on hand, including Brooks Robinson and Artie Donovan. I'm thrilled to hear that Memorial Stadium is coming back in some capacity. It was always bittersweet to drive past that spot in the years since the ballpark was demolished. There will be baseball on 33rd Street once again.

Bob Melvin, 1992 Upper Deck #692

In this photo, Bob Melvin looks like he's preparing to punch somebody in the groin. Fast-forward to 2009, and he probably feels like doing just that. It was just announced that the Arizona Diamondbacks have fired Bob as their manager after four-plus seasons. In 2007, he was Manager of the Year for guiding the club to 90 wins, a National League West crown, and an NLCS appearance. A year and a half later, the D'backs are 12-17 and nine games behind the Dodgers, so he's a bum. I suppose you know the breaks when you agree to take a managing job, and baseball skippers generally have more job security than their counterparts in the other major professional sports in this country. Still, if you see Bob Melvin in your travels this weekend, be sure to buy him a beer. It probably hasn't been a great week.

Mark Smith, 1992 Upper Deck #66

I've got a bit of writers' block tonight, so let's do a little sign-gazing. (You may have to click the picture to enlarge it and play along.) One of the small-time, quirky charms of minor league baseball is the copious advertising on the outfield fence, and Harry Grove Stadium in Frederick, Maryland is no exception. At top left I see "FCNB", which I assume is/was a bank in Frederick. There's a stylized "M" with the rest of the sign obscured by Mark Smith's bat; I believe that's a Miller beer sign. The Pepsi logo is easily visible. Above and to the right of that is a graphic featuring some vertebrae and the wordmark of Yalich Clinic, a local chiropractor. I remember seeing their commercials as a kid. At the far right, above the yellow sign, is an ad for Canon printers and copiers. The rest of our fine sponsors are indistinguishable to me; feel free to clarify any that I've missed in the comments.

Cal Ripken, Jr., 1992 Upper Deck #165

I recently received a request from reader Steve to feature this card, and I was happy to oblige. He noted that it's the rare card that pictures Cal doing the very thing that endeared him to his fans and brought him much of the credit that he received for "saving" baseball in the ugly aftermath of the 1994-95 players' strike: reaching out to fans, even when it meant sacrificing hours of his own time. I've written on a few occasions about the thrills I felt when I was able to spend just a few moments making small talk with the like of Brooks Robinson and Boog Powell as they signed my cards. But you might be surprised to learn that I've briefly met Cal Junior, and I fumbled the opportunity.

When I tell people that I spent Fall 2004 working in the Aberdeen IronBirds' front office, they often want to know if I was rubbing elbows with the Iron Man on a daily basis. I always tell them that Cal was - and still is - a ridiculously busy man; he's built a far-reaching business empire in his post-playing career, and he's not often seen at the stadium that bears his surname. Brother Billy is the near-daily presence, bringing attention to himself in his incorrigible manner. But I did share office space with #8 on one fateful October morning.

It was a Friday near Halloween, and the IronBirds staff was celebrating with a pot-luck breakfast: eggs, bagels, pancakes, Munchkins, you name it. It doesn't take much to make me happy, so this free and delicious bounty met my definition of a good morning. But just as we were all finishing our meal and dragging ourselves back to our cubicles and offices, he walked through the door unannounced, fresh from a meeting pertaining to the construction of the Little League baseball facility in the Ripken Stadium complex. The first thing that struck me was the sheer size of Cal. At a little over six feet tall, few people tower over me. I've always known that Ripken was 6'4", but it's something else entirely to see him up close. I also took notice of his steely gray eyes. It's fortunate for the rest of us that he chose to become a baseball player instead of a super-villain who uses the powers of hypnosis to make the people of the world bend to his will.

I was in a tough position. As the New Guy in the office, and someone who was around on a temporary basis, I assumed that I was the only one who had never met Cal. It seemed nervy and conspicuous of me to walk right up and introduce myself to the baseball legend in front of everyone. Asking him for an autograph when I was technically one of his employees would be totally out of the question. It had been much easier to approach Billy Ripken weeks earlier: he had been standing alone at that moment and while he had played in the major leagues for several years, his older brother was an absolute icon. So I stood off to the side in my khakis and my long-sleeved henley, trying not to gawk noticeably as the man who had been the face of the Orioles for two decades and who had redefined the position of shortstop sat a couple of feet away and partook in the most important meal of the day. While I certainly made an effort to soak it all in, the only clear memory I have is of Junior teasing Adam (one of the ticket sales representatives) for his personal take on the Mickey-Mouse-shaped pancake. Cal insisted with a laugh that the flapjack on his plate more closely resembled a bear's head.

I generally live my life with very few regrets. There have been plenty of times that I've taken a stab in the dark in various situations, precisely because I'd rather fall flat than hold back and wonder what could have been. But I've lived life as an Oriole fan for fifteen years now, and the one time I had a chance to meet Cal Ripken, Jr., I didn't even go out on a limb to say hello. As a result, all that I have is a half-baked anecdote about pancakes. I still wonder about that.

Ben McDonald, 1992 Upper Deck #163

Here we see Ben McDonald wearing the vintage threads of the 1966 Orioles, the city's first modern baseball champion. The 1991 team would have been commemorating the 25th anniversary of the club's rousing four-game World Series sweep of the Koufax and Drysdale Dodgers.

It's good to see Ben multitasking, signing autographs while consenting to an interview with an unseen reporter. It even seems like he's skillfully ignoring the overly needy shouts of the kid behind him in the too-large cap. The best thing about this photo is seeing both the pitcher (and the Orioles as a whole) getting the concept of a throwback uniform right. More recently, it seems like every player that takes the field wearing a design from bygone days is draped in yards of baggy fabric, which may be acceptable as a tribute to the early 1900's, but couldn't be more wrong when flashing back to the polyester knit era. Unfortunately, we can't see Ben's lower body, but based on other cards in the set, I have reason to believe he may have even gotten the leg wear correct.

This year marks another 25th anniversary. It has been a full quarter-century since the Orioles last won the World Series, an event that I was much too young to experience. The team has already announced plans for Turn Back the Clock nights, fan giveaways, and appearances by former players. The 1983 Orioles were a great team full of talented players, and there's nothing wrong with celebrating your past.

I just wish we had something to celebrate in the present, or at least the near future.