Todd Frohwirth, 1994 Score #226

I feel like I do one of these "ex-Orioles returning as Spring Training instructors" blog entries at least once a year. If not, I really should. Nostalgia is one of the chief motivating factors behind this enterprise, to be honest. Anyway, one name from my childhood who came to Sarasota this winter (check the calendar, the vernal equinox won't be here for another ten days) was Todd Frohwirth. The submarine-style reliever, who toiled for the O's from 1991 through 1993, is now a scout in the Baltimore organization. The team invited him to the Ed Smith Stadium complex a few weeks back and he spent some time with kindred spirit Darren O'Day, helping the sidewinding setup man to hone a changeup. Although O'Day was as dependable as ever in 2013, pitching to a 2.18 ERA and a 1.00 WHIP, there is room for improvement. His strikeout-to-walk ratio dropped by a full strikeout, from 4.93-to-1 in 2012 to 3.93-to-1 last season. Lefties also tattooed the righthander to a .309/.367/.556 tune. If Darren can add another weapon to his utility belt, he could turn those troubling numbers on their heads. Then the next time you see Darren O'Day cross up an opposing batter with an offspeed pitch, you can say, "Thanks, Todd!".

Jeff Tackett, 1994 Score #136

I'm bored. Let's do a little photo sleuthing.

To start, let's confirm that this picture was snapped during the 1993 season. That's the Orioles' 1993 All-Star Game patch on Jeff Tackett's left sleeve, so we're good to go there. The pinstripes and blue uniform number outlined in gold indicate that the opposing catcher is a member of the Milwaukee Brewers. (You might have also spotted the Brewers logo on his shin guard.) In 1993, Tom Lampkin wore #22 for the Brew Crew, and he was indeed a catcher.

Both of these guys were reserve players, so hopefully it won't be hard to pinpoint the game in question. Checking Lampkin's 1993 Batting Gamelog on Baseball-Reference.com, we see that he played only two games at home against the Orioles - June 14 and June 16. Looking over both box scores, we'll see that Tackett played in only the June 16 game...and it was not pretty. While Jeff singled and walked in three at-bats while giving starter Chris Hoiles a breather, the O's were pounded to the tune of 7-2. Starter Mike Mussina earned just his third loss of the season by giving up all seven runs in six and two-thirds innings.

So, can we determine the result of this play? Consulting the play-by-play, we're looking at the top of the fifth. The O's are trailing 3-0 when they mount a rally against Milwaukee starter Jaime Navarro. They load the bases with three walks, and Brady Anderson follows with a line-drive double to right field to score a pair. The runner on first, Tackett, winds up at third. But the rally ends there. Mark McLemore hits a grounder to first, and the O's catcher inexplicably breaks for home. First baseman John Jaha cuts him down at the plate for the fielder's choice. Cal Ripken, Jr. follows with a double play grounder to third, and Baltimore fails to score another run in the game.

The next time I do one of these, I've got to make sure that the Orioles actually won the game.

Mark McLemore, 1994 Score #415

I should have gotten around to this sooner, but I was probably saving it for a rough day, and today's third straight ridiculously heartbreaking loss by the Ravens was nothing if not rough. I've complained about the interminable length of the baseball season before, but when you've got 162 games to play (or watch), at least the really bad losses aren't fraught with so much significance. Football games are draining and agonizing in a way that baseball games rarely are. But enough blather.

Last month, the bloggers par excellence at Dinged Corners proposed the Six-Cards-in-30-Seconds Binder Test, or simply Six-in-30. To put it succinctly, grab a binder and pick out six cards that grab your attention in some way. You have thirty seconds. You might think it boring to do this test with several cards from the same set, but I hope that's not the case. I chose the binder that houses my unfinished 1994 Score set. This is one of several really appealing sets from my early collecting years that just fell by the wayside long before I could complete it. I blame my own short attention span - I also bought bunches of 1994 Collector's Choice and 1994 Topps that year - and the August players' strike, which cooled my desire to buy baseball cards for a while.

So why do I like this set so much? Besides the simple navy blue borders and team-colored bars for the players' names on the front, there's the completeness of the card backs: full career stats, two-paragraph biographies, and full-color photos. The busy backs manage to not look cluttered while nicely complementing the minimalist fronts.But best of all are the high-quality photos, which I'd never previously seen as a strong suit for Score. There's a lot of character in these shots, from the goofy posed pictures like Mark McLemore's GQ shoot above, to...

The candid close-up portraits, such as Paul Molitor's...

The preservation of memorable moments in baseball history, like Chris Bosio's no-no...

The preservation of infamous moments as well, most notably Jose Canseco's ruinous pitching debut...
Lots of great action shots of catchers, including Erik Pappas chasing a pop-up...

More action shots in the infield, like Greg Gagne trying to turn two as Harold Reynolds bears down on him...

Finally, photos celebrating the team aspect of baseball, as seen here: Sandy Alomar, Jr. and Kenny Lofton congratulating Carlos Baerga on a job well done. You can also see some strong interplay of sun and shadows here, as well as in the other cards I posted. Traditionally, cards with daytime photos were either washed-out or cloaked in oppressive shadows, but Score did a great job with this set when it came to making you feel like you were at a sun-drenched afternoon game.

This was a lot of fun, as well as a good reminder that I need to put forth an effort to finish the 1994 Score set...and 1994 Collector's Choice...and 1995 Stadium Club...and 1996 Score...and 2008 Topps and Topps Heritage and maybe Goudey...and 2009 Topps and O-Pee-Chee...and 1982 Topps...ugh. Never mind.

P. S.: If you counted seven cards, allow me to clarify. My Orioles are sorted and stored separately, so I didn't count Mac in my Six-in-30 tally.

David Segui, 1994 Score #361

Here's a pressing question for fellow card collectors. When flipping through a stack of cards, do you take note of the players that make cameos on another player's card? I think it's a fun quirk to be able to see Grady Sizemore sliding into second base as Brian Roberts turns the double play, or a blurry Eddie Murray lurking in the on-deck circle as Cal Ripken, Jr. takes his hacks. I'll even go so far as to make a note in my computerized card database if an interloping player shows up on someone else's card (that's why I'm a hit with the ladies). Many times it's easy enough to tag the guest star, as is the case with Tim Hulett on this David Segui card. But sometimes I have to identify a catcher in full gear by his facial features, or a baserunner by his jersey number. Any time a baseball card spurs me on to a little extra research, that's not a bad thing. So am I alone in this mania, or do you harbor a secret curiosity for cameo players?

Jack Voigt, 1994 Score #580

This has not been an ideal blogging week, but for the most part it's because I've been "good" busy. There was no post here last night because I left the house at 6:40 AM and came home at midnight. In between, I picked my sister up from work and we spent the evening in downtown Baltimore to celebrate her birthday...which was actually last month, but I did give her the concert tickets on the actual day. Anyway, we had dinner at the California Tortilla across the street from Oriole Park, and then wandered down to Rams Head Live in the Inner Harbor for the Jack's Mannequin show. I'd never been to Rams Head, but it's a great little venue. There's a small stage on the ground level, and two levels of balconies, and of course, a handful of bars situated around the premises. Liz and I promptly staked out a table on the middle level, because a) there were bunches of teen-aged girls all over the stage floor, and that's not really our scene and 2) we're weary twentysomethings who worked all day and just wanted to sit down. Them's the facts.

The opening act was Erin McCarley, a talented singer/songwriter who confided in us that she was still stretching out her legs after a seven-hour bus trip from Syracuse. That made me feel a bit better about my commute. I wasn't familiar with her music, but apparently her song "Love, Save the Empty" is currently on VH1's Top 20 Music Countdown. She also did a pretty strong cover of the Suzanne Vega hit "Tom's Diner", although she sardonically noted that that would probably be the song from her set that most of us would want to have, and it was the only one not on her album.

Next was Matt Nathanson, whose music you might have heard on Scrubs and elsewhere. He's absolutely hilarious live. Among other things, he told us that he hailed from San Francisco - "the Baltimore of California", read racy passages from a romance novel, ranted about 24-7 cable news being "the worst thing that ever happened to the country" because of around-the-clock coverage of some bad bootleg of an awful John Mayer song (he's not a fan), and broke into impromptu covers of Enrique Iglesias' "Escape" and Rick Springfield's "Jessie's Girl". Oh, and he played some nifty music as well.

Finally, after a half-hour wait (it was nearly 10 PM and us old fogies were getting antsy), Jack's Mannequin took the stage. They're one of my sister's favorite groups, and lead singer Andrew McMahon has been affiliated with about a half-dozen other groups that she likes, so this gift was a pretty safe bet. I like all four of their songs that I've heard, so naturally they only played one of them ("Kill the Messenger") during the set. But the rest of their songs were great, even if I didn't get that extra thrill from hearing something familiar. One of the most entertaining things for me was just watching the other people on the balcony, most of them much bigger fans than I. There were the young frat-guy types who were singing along to every song and practically climbing the railing (and each other) in in their euphoria. Or the middle-aged woman who spent the entire concert dancing like she was alone in her living room. I was in awe of the young female bartender who had to squeeze by her every couple minutes - and managed to do it without once making physical contact. I also took notice as my sister clapped delightedly during the introductions of several featured songs. She's not the climb the railing type, you know. The evening even had a great closing note for me - the last song of the encore was "La La Lie", another of the few songs I already knew.

Oh, I almost forgot! Making small talk between songs, McMahon mentioned that he and the band had spent a few days soaking in the full Baltimore experience (he didn't mention whether that included Tuesday's water main break a few streets over). He and the rest of Jack's Mannequin were in attendance at Tuesday night's Orioles-Angels game. The mere mention of it elicited a loud cheer from the crowd, and he quipped that we "must not be fans, since they lost". Of course, it would be hard to root for the O's if you weren't prepared for losses, but that's neither here nor there. McMahon mocked some of his fellow musicians for sitting in the ritzy seats while he and a few bandmates sat "with the crowd", for the more authentic feel. As a result, he ended up appearing on the JumboTron, which he described as a legitimate thrill.

I bet you didn't think I'd be able to tie the Orioles into this half-cocked concert review, huh?

John P. O'Donoghue, 1994 Score #593

Okay, enough teasing. Last week, I got an email from the man pictured above. He'd found NumerOlogy and this blog, and wanted to tell me how much he'd enjoyed them. He hadn't been aware that he was the tallest pitcher from Delaware until he read it here, and joked, "Finally I came in first at something!". He also let me in on another tidbit he'd gleaned from SABR: he and his father were the only father-son duo to pitch in both the College World Series and the major leagues.

Of course, it's always a pleasant surprise to hear from a former Oriole player. In John's case, he was so gracious and seemed to have a sense of humor about himself, so I felt encouraged to ask him for an interview. He quickly agreed, and you can read the interview at NumerOlogy. His responses were more insightful and funny than I could have hoped for, and he's a former player who is truly appreciative of the fans. Thanks again, John!

Oriole Park at Camden Yards (Team Checklist), 1994 Score #317

This is an excellent aerial view of Oriole Park at Camden Yards, which in 1993 hosted my first All-Star Game as a fan, and possibly my favorite. I breathlessly watched all of that year's festivities on television with my Dad. I still remember the excitement of the Home Run Derby, which was much less of a bloated ordeal then compared to today's three-round, three-hour slog. Ken Griffey, Jr. was one of my favorite players at the time, the exciting young star with a million-watt smile. He became the first (and only, as of 2008) player to hit the B & O Warehouse on the fly, on his way to tying Texas slugger Juan Gonzalez with seven home runs. They would have two tiebreaker rounds before Juan Gone emerged victorious, 12-11.

The game itself was nothing short of thrilling for me. It was amazing to see all of the brightest stars, the biggest names in the game, playing in my home town. The Orioles' legendary shortstop, Cal Ripken, Jr., started. Though he went 0-for-3, the American League had no trouble dispatching their National League counterparts, 9-3. Kirby Puckett won the MVP award, hitting a home run and driving in two runs. I remember discussing the game over the phone with my mother, who was watching from a hotel room in Philadelphia; she was on a rare business trip.

Three moments in the game stood out to me, and still do after fifteen years. The first was the classic Randy Johnson-John Kruk confrontation, in which the Big Unit threw his patented fastball about six feet over Kruk's head, causing the first baseman to bail out, fan himself off, and strike out weakly. The second was AL catcher Ivan Rodriguez hitting a drive deep to left field that actually stuck between two sections of padding in the outfield fence; Barry Bonds stood helplessly, staring at the trapped ball. The final moment still lives in Baltimore sports infamy.

Aside from Cal, ace pitcher Mike Mussina was the only All-Star for the O's. Late in the game, Mussina still had not been used. The Baltimore fans rose to their feet and cheered as Moose began to throw in the bullpen, but those cheers turned to boos when AL manager Cito Gaston (of the then-rival Blue Jays) neglected to bring him into the game. Rumor has it that Mike was throwing of his own volition, to stay on schedule going into the second half of the season. However, that hasn't stopped many Charm City fans from holding a grudge against Cito and our neighbors to the north ever since.

I hope the Midsummer Classic returns to Baltimore sooner rather than later, especially since Bud Selig has been awarding the honor to Camden Yards knockoffs ever since.

Mike Mussina, 1994 Score #9

As long as we're talking about numbers, I can't help but think back to my brief and pitiful experience in Little League. Because I didn't take any interest in baseball until I was eleven, I also hadn't grown up playing the sport...or any other sport, come to think of it. Now that I was baseball-mad, I wanted to be a part of the action. As if my novice status didn't already put me at a disadvantage, I was also entering my awkward phase. Still, it was Little League; no cuts. There was a general mass tryout and then the five managers divvied up the players in private. I would be a Yankee, though I was still too young and naive to be offended by that association. Besides, with our royal blue polyester jerseys and goofy white and blue foam hats with the mesh backing, we resembled the hated Bronx Bombers in name only.

The first thrill for me was picking a uniform number. I did my homework, paging through my Athlon baseball preview magazine and consulting the team rosters to see which big league players wore which numbers. My age group wore numbers between 30 and 49, so I soon fixated on #31. Greg Maddux and Mike Piazza would be pretty good company. Of course, when it was time to choose, I found that my preferred jersey was absurdly tiny. So it went to a diminutive pitcher/second baseman named Dave. When the dust settled I was left holding #35. Not too shabby, although I remember being more excited about sharing a number with Frank Thomas than I was about Mike Mussina. It was 1994, and the Big Hurt ruled baseball without mercy.

My performance, however, was not reminiscent of either player. In six-inning games, I got roughly two at-bats per game and three innings in the field...right field, of course, where I would do the least damage. I still remember every time I reached based on a batted ball that season. Both of them. On the first, bunted for a hit. If I could do anything, it was run. (The most encouraging of my coaches once referred to me as "Rickey Henderson", which was even funny to me.) The second time, I actually swung with all my might, felt that satisfying impact...and watched the ball drop dead in front of the plate. I ran like hell and beat the throw from the flustered defender. I did at least walk occasionally, since a recent growth spurt had seen me shoot up to nearly six feet tall and my higher strike zone was harder for my erratic young peers to locate. Plus, I was reluctant to swing the bat.

For all of my misadventures, I had landed on a good team with supportive coaches and friendly teammates. We won ten out of sixteen games, finishing second to the hated Red Sox (go figure). The following year, most of us returned with similar results, winning ten games and placing runner-up to those darned Sox. Hmm, no pun intended. I had been given #42, which I was able to identify with Jackie Robinson even if no contemporary players were doing much with it at the time. I doubled my hit total to four, all bunts. I also collected my lone RBI on a bases-loaded pitch that hit me in the helmet. As one of my teammates joked, "That's using your head!"

That's the extent of my baseball career. Eventually I figured out that slow-pitch softball was a better fit for me, but at least I tried.