Arthur Rhodes, 1995 Topps #289

Unbeknownst to most fans, Arthur Rhodes wrote reminders and inspirational tips on the underside of the bill of his cap. When he was in a jam on the mound, he'd be able to take a peek at the cap and give himself a little boost. On this particular day, he stepped aside, pulled off his hat, and read his own handwritten words of wisdom:

"Eggs, milk, 1/2 pound sliced ham, Lucky Charms, grapes, orange juice-"

Damn! He'd been unable to find a piece of paper the night before and had grabbed the nearest flat surface while putting together his shopping list. It would be a long game...

Chris Sabo, 1995 Topps #137

Folks, it's time for some real talk. I've noticed a near-total lack of feedback in the form of comments on this blog in recent weeks. At the same time, I've felt my own interest in writing these posts start to flag. I've been updating Orioles Card "O" the Day on a near-daily basis for five years, two months, and six days, and that comes out to 1,874 blog entries in all. I'm sure that I still have things to say about the O's, and the cards on which they're featured, but more often than not it seems like I'm forcing myself to carve out a few minutes just to pluck a card out of the box or binder, scan it, say the bare minimum, and be done with it. It's somewhat disappointing, like Chris Sabo without his customary Rec Specs. That's not really providing any benefit to me or to you, and considering how lackluster my recent writing feels to me,  certainly don't blame anyone else for not having any comments to add. So I'd appreciate it if you could answer a few questions for me:

-What type of posts would you like to read on this blog? Shorter-form player biographies, oddball tangents about unusual card designs or photos, snapshots of a single Orioles game from the past, themed posts (i.e. the history of the team's top draft picks, or the best Maryland-born players?), or maybe something else?

-How much is your enjoyment of the blog tied to the daily updates? Would you rather read one or two longer posts per week, or quick tidbits every day?

-Any other suggestions? (Cosmetic makeovers, additional widgets, a transition to 100% dinosaur-related content...speak now or forever hold your peace.)

Dwight Smith, 1995 Topps #261

Major League Baseball and its clubs kicked off the Rule 4 Amateur Draft last night, and I'm happy with the Orioles' fourth-overall choice of high school beast Dylan Bundy, for whatever that's worth. I realize these things are a crapshoot, but I'll take my chances with a kid who can hit 100 mph at age 18 with a 158-to-5 strikeout-to-walk ratio. Add in the fact that his big brother Bobby is currently 6-3 with a 2.73 ERA at the Orioles' single-A Frederick affiliate, and you've got a great story.

Of course, the draft is also an annual reminder of the relentless passage of time. The high school seniors being picked this year are a full decade younger than yours truly. In a pre-taped profile of A's first-rounder Sonny Gray, it was mentioned that he had starred in a school production of "High School Musical". This is a new and scary generation, I said, shaking my fist impotently at the young hooligans loitering in my yard. It really hits home when I hear the names of players I grew up collecting...only there are "juniors" appended. Last year it was Delino DeShields, Jr. getting the call from the Astros. Yesterday evening, the Yankees used a first-round "sandwich pick" (51st overall) to select Dante Bichette, Jr. Just two picks later, the Blue Jays picked up another high school outfielder, Dwight Smith, Jr.

For what it's worth, Li'l Dante was considered a reach at #51, with such lovely descriptors as "real power", "lacks quickness", and "a whole lot like what Shelley Duncan brought to the table" (ouch!). Smith, whose pops hit .311 in a 28-game stint with the Orioles in the strike-shortened 1994 season, has been called a "pure hitter" and a "physically-stronger" version of his dad, which is all you can ask for, right? Of course, Smith the Elder was renowned for his lovely singing voice, and baseball card copy writers loved to mention his occasional pregame renditions of the Star-Spangled Banner. No word on whether Dwight Jr.'s pipes measure up to the old man.

Jamie Moyer, 1995 Topps #318

Why hello there, Jamie Moyer! I hope you're having a happy 48th birthday today.

Two weeks ago, the wizened lefty was pitching in the Dominican Republic and suffered an elbow injury. Once again demonstrating why he gets so much attention on this blog, he announced last weekend that he does not intend to retire, even if the results of his MRI indicate that Tommy John surgery might be needed. Rock on, Jamie.

Lee Smith, 1995 Topps #394

This card evokes a bittersweet memory for me, as Lee Smith was an All-Star in his only season in Baltimore. He was already 29-for-33 in save opportunities at the break, but he blew a save for the American League by allowing a game-tying two-run home run in the ninth inning to Fred McGriff. The National Leaguers went on to win in the tenth when Jason Bere yielded back-to-back hits with no outs. Bleah.

However, there are a lot of close, tight games represented in this card. 2,141 games pitched in a combined 39 major league seasons. 902 saves altogether. Lee stands third all-time with 478 games saved, and John Franco is fourth with his 424. Will Cooperstown come calling? Time will tell.

Mark Smith and Scott Klingenbeck, 1995 Topps #631

Continued from Johnny Oates

It was a beautiful day for baseball, 71 degrees and sunny at game time. We took our seats in the right field bleachers, the first time I had ever seen Oriole Park from that vantage point. I immediately fell in love with that section of the ballpark, with the entire field laid out in front of me and the right fielder so close that it seemed that I could reach out and touch him. I've gone to a few dozen games since then, and sat everywhere from the very last row of the upper reserve to box seats right behind home plate, but the bleachers are still my personal favorite.

When I know that I'm going to a baseball game, I've always taken a special interest in the starting pitching assignments. In my mind, it seems that I was never lucky enough to catch Mike Mussina when he was the ace of the Oriole staff, though I have watched enemy pitchers like Randy Johnson and Tim Hudson stymie the Birds. This particular day was no different. The O's had been caught a little shorthanded, and plucked some untested rookie from AA Bowie for an emergency start. The kid was a slightly stocky righthander named Scott Klingenbeck.

So, how did the kid do? Not bad at all. Despite allowing six hits and walking four, he hung in for seven innings. Klingenbeck allowed four runs (three earned) but struck out five to help his cause. Most impressive of all, he bounced back after being touched up for three runs in the third inning, retiring 13 of the last 15 Tiger hitters he faced. But would it be enough to pick up a win in his major league debut?

P. S.: This is the only card I have of Scott in an Orioles uniform, and I couldn't even find any on eBay. He appeared in six games for the O's in 1995 before being traded to the Twins for Scott Erickson. Not a bad deal for then-GM Roland Hemond near the end of his storied career.

To be continued tomorrow.

Mike Devereaux, 1995 Topps #23

I just finished reading an excellent book - The Pitch that Killed, by Mike Sowell. It's about the fatal beaning of Indians shortstop Ray Chapman by Yankees pitcher Carl Mays, but it goes deeper, of course. There's a good amount of backstory given for both men, as well as a faithful narrative of the thrilling 1920 American League pennant race which was overshadowed by the tragic events of that one game. I'm admittedly a soft touch, but by the time the story progressed to Chapman's death and the aftermath of it, I found myself getting choked up.

Sadly, the accident - and given the facts, which are laid out without any tangible agenda on the part of Sowell, I do believe it was an accident - was a plot straight out of a movie. Two teams are embroiled in an unbelievably tight pennant race when one team's star pitcher (who is hated nearly league-wide for his antisocial behavior and his habit of brushing batters off of the plate) hits the other team's genial, popular star shortstop in the head with a pitch and fractures his skull. The shortstop dies at the hospital hours later, following surgery. To further the tragedy, Chapman and his wife were expecting their first child, and the player was planning to retire at the end of the season to more fully join his father-in-law's business. Even the ending is straight out of Hollywood; a raw young shortstop named Joe Sewell joins the Indians in September, dedicates his play to the memory of Chapman, and helps lead the team to the American League title - and ultimately to a World Series win over the Brooklyn Dodgers.

As I read the book, my mind drifted to the scariest thing I had ever seen as an Orioles fan. It was an early season day game in 1994, and the O's were home against Cleveland. The invaluable Baseball Reference tells me it was May 8, 1994 to be exact. We were winning 8-3 in the sixth inning when Mike Devereaux came to bat, and he was having a great game. He'd hit a solo homer and a triple, driving in four runs. He dug in to face rookie reliever Chad Ogea with the bases empty and two outs. Ogea's pitch hit Devo flush on the left cheek. All I can remember is the vivid image of the center fielder dropping to the dirt on all fours, blood suddenly pouring out of his mouth in a thin but steady stream.

I could have sworn he missed some games after that, but remarkably, my research shows that he simply spent a few hours in the hospital and was able to play a full game the following day against the Blue Jays once the swelling subsided. Devereaux singled and scored a run in a 4-1 win over Toronto. In hindsight, he was incredibly fortunate, and evidently fearless. The card I've chosen today shows that fearlessness manifesting itself in another way, as he goes head-over-heels to snag a sinking liner to center field in Oriole Park at Camden Yards. The grass stain on his knee is a nice touch.

Postscript: Oddly enough, Ogea's errant toss was Devo's only HBP in 1994.