Brian Roberts, 2007 Bowman Heritage #11

It would be disingenuous of me to say that I'm heartbroken over the news that Brian Roberts has signed a one-year, $2 million contract with the Yankees. But I am certainly bummed out. I'd already made peace with the high probability that the veteran second baseman and the Orioles would be parting ways; I think both sides are in need of a clean break and a fresh start. The O's needed to stop penciling him in at second base, knowing that another knock on the head or muscle pull would once again leave them casting their lot with a minor league free agent or major league washout at the keystone position. Roberts could do without the weight of the unfulfilled expectations from the four-year, $40 million contract extension that just lapsed. But...it just HAD to be the Yankees, didn't it? The guys in pinstripes still know how to twist the knife.

Brian Roberts has been my favorite Oriole for the past decade, but his roots in the Baltimore organization go even deeper. He was drafted by the team in 1999, which seems like ages ago: Ray Miller was the manager, Frank Wren the general manager, and Will Clark the starting first baseman. Within two years, the undersized infielder was in the major leagues, playing alongside graying Birds greats Cal Ripken and Brady Anderson. He spent his peak seasons (2004-2009) toiling in relative obscurity for bad, overmatched clubs. During said peak, he averaged .290/.365/.438 (111 OPS+) with 101 runs scored, 46 doubles, 12 homers, 62 RBI, and 35 steals per season. Roberts was a two-time All-Star who had a good case for two more. Through his entire pro baseball career, from the 1999 Delmarva Shorebirds (featuring Tim Raines, Jr. and Ntema Ndungidi!) on through to the 2011 Orioles (featuring Chris Jakubauskas and the ghost of Vlad Guerrero!), he never played for a team that broke even, much less entertained hopes of postseason play...unless you count the 2003 Ottawa Lynx, for whom he played 44 early-season games before joining the O's for good. And when Baltimore finally became reacquainted with winning baseball and meaningful October games in that magical 2012 season, Brian wasn't around to enjoy it. His myriad injuries limited him to 17 substandard games in midseason. He was reduced to spectator and cheerleader for Baltimore's thrilling six-game postseason run, a spectre in a black stocking cap perched on the dugout bench.

After all of that, Roberts finally got healthy enough to cobble together an ersatz farewell tour in the last half of the 2013 season. He wasn't up to his former high standards of play, but after three and a half years of commiserating with my favorite player's disabled list torment, it was a thrill and a relief to watch and take note of every nimble catch and pivot in the field. The dozen doubles and eight home runs he hit in his 77-game swan song may as well have been 70 and 50. I even appreciated the lengthy at-bats that might have ended in outs, but worked the opponent's pitch count in a way that so many of Roberts' younger and more robust teammates couldn't seem to master. It was apparent for much of 2013 that the Orioles were not leading the same charmed existence of 2012, and yet they clung to their playoff hopes deep into September before the door slammed shut on them. Brian Roberts would still not get to taste the champagne.

So after all of these years, all of the hits and stolen bases and runs and defensive stops, and the frustration of all of the injuries, and the heartening comeback...after all of the charitable efforts that Brian undertook in the community...after witnessing his rise and fall at the highest level of his sport, and his development into a devoted husband and father...I don't begrudge Brian Roberts any successes he might have in 2014, and I will still root for him on a personal level. But the possibility of seeing his struggles culminate in postseason success in the Bronx is too much for me to contemplate.

Thank you for everything, Brian. Do good, and be well, and know that you made a difference here in numerous ways.

Erik Bedard, 2007 Bowman Heritage #107

Since the Orioles (and their opponents, the Rays) are the only team that has to wait until Tuesday to start their season, I have the opportunity to wander into non-pertinent matters today. Translation: it’s time for show-and-tell. While the Erik Bedard retro-lookin' card I've chosen is pretty nifty, there's nothing quite like the real thing. Let's talk about old cards.

A quick pointer for any hobby shop owners (or even future hobby shop owners) who might happen upon this blog post: if you want your shop to be a must-stop destination for collectors, you’ve got to have a cheap vintage bin. This is one of the things that you can provide to set yourself apart from the Wal-marts and Targets of the world that deal only in current product and the eBays and Check Out My Cardses with their shipping charges and delayed gratification.

Saturday afternoon I stopped in to the Baseball Card Outlet, which may just be the best hobby shop I’ve ever visited. It was my third time there, and I sought out the vintage bargain bins that I’d inexplicably overlooked in my previous trips. What I found was sheer joy. They have several different bins with progressive pricing tiers: 50 cents per card, a dollar per card, and two dollars per card. There may have been others, but I was focused on thrift. There’s even a bulk discount – the 50 cent cards are 25 for $10, the dollar cards are 25 for $20, and so forth. I started out rifling through the cheapest bin and selected a dozen cards before I decided to focus my efforts on the dollar cards. I limited myself to 25 of those so as to keep myself on a $30 budget, but I easily could have bought them out with a little less discipline. My total haul was 37 cards ranging from 1954 to 1964 (except for one 1972 Topps league leaders card), all for $27.50. Many would be considered “common” players, but you can’t beat the price considering the condition of the cards. Most are off-center, creased, and/or rounded on the corners, but they’re pretty decent for 50-to-60-year-old bits of cardboard. Yes, please.

I could easily bore you with a blow-by-blow account of my purchase, but instead I’ll go back to the 6-in-Thirty well and highlight a half-dozen of the new additions to my collection. Enjoy!
First we have Clint Courtney on the classic 1955 Bowman design, card number 34. Though he’s a member of the White Sox here, he has a special place in my heart as the first catcher in Orioles history. He’s also one of the all-time great characters of the game, the rare bespectacled backstop and a notorious fighter (hence his “Scrap Iron” nickname) and flake.
1955 Topps Monte Irvin #100. This is probably the most beat-up of the bunch, as the corners are practically non-existent. If that’s what it takes to get an ex-Negro Leaguer and a Hall of Famer for less than a buck, sign me up. This is also the first vintage New York Giant in my collection.
Speaking of former Negro Leaguers, here’s Dodger great Jim “Junior” Gilliam on his 1959 Topps card #306. I grabbed him because of his Baltimore ties; he was a three-time All-Star as a member of the Elite Giants and a member of their championship club in 1949. Other notable Elite Giants included his future Dodger teammates Roy Campanella and Joe Black. Junior was also a two-time National League All-Star and the 1953 Rookie of the Year.
This is immediately one of my favorite cards in my entire collection, a 1960 Topps Gus Bell #235. Sure, he’s the progenitor of the second-ever three-generation MLB family (which includes son Buddy Bell and grandson David Bell) and a star outfielder. But most importantly, look how happy he is! Gotta love the rarity of a candidly-photographed laugh on an old card.
One of my longtime sources of shame as a collector has been the lack of Don Mossi in my boxes and binders. He’s widely regarded as the ugliest player in baseball history, a man who makes Andy Etchebarren look like George Clooney. He was described in Ball Four as looking like a cab driving down the street with its doors open, and Bill James declared that he was “five-tool ugly”. I still need to supplement his 1961 Topps #14 with one of his other cards that actually shows his aesthetic gifts close-up. But this is a fine start.
Finally we have Roy McMillan’s 1963 Topps #156. Not much to say about this one. I already have Roy’s 1965 card depicting him as a Met, so this fills a need in the “one-player-multiple-teams” category. Other than that, I just dig his clear-framed glasses. Eat your heart out, Chris Sabo.

Well, I hope you got a kick out of seeing some moldy oldies. Every time I add cards like these to my collection, I realize that I’m having much more fun than I do when I buy the overpriced, gimmicky new stuff. Maybe if I put it down in writing enough times, I’ll be able to hammer the message home and resist those soon-forgotten impulse buys in Target.