Damon Buford, 1993 Score Select Rookies and Traded #149T

It's a good thing that Damon Buford's bat is clearly labeled "BUF" on the knob. There's no telling what would happen if he were to accidentally pick up one of Leo Gomez's bats. I hear that Leo had a hair-trigger temper, and was capable of beheading another man with the simple flick of a wrist. Better safe than sorry.

This is probably a good time to remind you that I am prone to flights of fancy, and that Leo Gomez is not in fact a violent psychopath.

Brad Pennington, 1993 Score Select Rookies and Traded #75T

Former Orioles reliever, or should I say "thrower", Brad Pennington was born on April 14, 1969. Of course, that wasn't the only terrible thing that happened to the O's that year. Baltimore was the juggernaut of the American League, winning 109 games and losing 53 for a .673 percentage. No other team in the A.L. came within a dozen games of that win total, and the club had at least a ten-game lead in the Eastern division every day from June 28 through the end of the season. There were only five losing streaks of three games or more, and the longest was a five-game skid at the end of the regular season. They steamrolled through the 97-win Twins in the ALCS in three straight, and that's when things got weird.

Their World Series opponent was the New York Mets, a team that didn't exist until 1962 and was a laughingstock for most of the decade. The Mets shouldn't have been overlooked, as they'd won 100 games and engineered a thrilling stretch run to overtake the front-running Cubs. But most prognosticators assumed that the Birds would have little trouble dispatching the boys from Flushing. Of course, we know what happened; not only did the O's not beat the Mets, they only won a single game in the entire Series. The "Amazin' Mets" became a part of baseball history, and a team that many (including most of the men who played on it) considered the best team in franchise history was relegated to something of an afterthought.

I wasn't even born until 1982, by which time only three members of that great Baltimore team were still active. The Birds won the World Series the following year, and they would do it again in 1983. But to this day, I still feel pangs of disappointment, regret, and annoyance when I read or hear about those "Amazin' Mets". I have no rational reason for this; the only one of those guys that I ever saw play was Nolan Ryan, and by that point he was a 46-year-old veteran at the end of the line. But there's nothing rational about being a sports fan, and I'm blind to the thrilling topsy-turvy underdog storyline in that 1969 Fall Classic. From my viewpoint, they were a bunch of lucky stiffs who denied Earl Weaver, Jim Palmer, Brooks Robinson, and crew their rightful place alongside the great baseball dynasties. I've done my homework. I know that J. C. Martin should have been called out for interference, and that Frank Robinson got hit by that pitch (but Cleon Jones didn't). I know that Ron Swoboda's diving catch was a bit of happenstance...

So here we are again. Orioles vs. Mets. New York just took the first one. Sloppy fielding. An inability to get that clutch hit. History better not repeat itself over the next two days.

Harold Reynolds, 1993 Score Select Rookies and Traded #14

This card depicts Harold Reynolds, in his lone year as an Oriole, preparing to tag Ozzie Guillen as he slides headfirst into second base at what was then known as New Comiskey Park. Some fifteen years later, both men were back in that same ballpark yesterday evening for the White Sox' thrilling 1-0 one-game playoff win over the Twins. Ozzie, of course, was managing the Pale Hose to victory. Harold, on the other hand, was back in the saddle as an announcer for TBS, who televised the game.

I tuned in to the game in the fifth inning, with the score still tied 0-0. We'd arrived home just a few hours earlier, having spent nearly four hours on the road from Virginia. I was looking to relax with some quality postseason baseball, and I perked up as soon as I heard Harold's high-pitched, friendly voice. I've missed the former second baseman since his sudden firing from ESPN two years ago. Though he was no slouch on the diamond, he's truly been in his element in the years since he hung up his spikes, talking baseball with confidence and a good-natured demeanor while the camera rolls. In addition to his work on Baseball Tonight, he became one of the faces of the Little League World Series every summer, interacting effortlessly with pint-sized pitchers and shortstops. He's always seemed genuinely affable, and it's just comforting to hear him on a telecast rather than some self-important bozo like Joe Morgan or a gibbering pile of nonsense like Tim McCarver.

I'm not going to sugarcoat things; there are a lot of unanswered questions about the messy divorce between ESPN and Reynolds. The company's official story spoke of sexual harassment, but something seemed awry. Many other ESPN personalities had received slaps on the wrist for much worse offenses than "a misinterpreted hug", as Harold deemed it. But given that he quickly moved to sue his former employer, and that they chose to quietly settle out-of-court with him, I tend to give the former second baseman the benefit of the doubt. When it comes right down to it, I'm glad to have Harold Reynolds back. In yet another Orioles-free postseason, it's good to have a familiar face (and voice) hanging around.