Dave Schmidt, 2004 Maryland Lottery #25

The blog has taken on a throwback flavor this week, as the 2015 O's have had a week to forget. Tonight, I'm amused by the inclusion of Dave Schmidt in the Maryland Lottery's 50th Anniversary Orioles card set. He sticks way out among the likes of Cal, Eddie, Cakes, Brooksie, Frank, Boog, Earl, Little Looie, Brady, Flanny, Tippy, and such, and the tidbit on the back only makes it more obvious. After all, the card reminds us, he was the only Baltimore pitcher to have a winning record in both the 1987 and 1988 seasons. That's like being the smartest of the Three Stooges, isn't it? Oh, but Dave also had a career walk rate of 2.4 per nine innings, we're told. Greg Maddux was at 1.8, and Jeremy Guthrie was at 2.6, with Daniel Cabrera at 5.2, if you want some pointless frames of reference. But hey, I guess it's good to toss in a curveball among the usual suspects.

Dave Schmidt, 1989 Topps #677

You have my word that I don't consider myself an overly superstitious fan. But the Orioles, who finally dropped out of first place with last night's ugly 5-1 loss to the Rays, are clinging to a 2-1 lead in the eighth inning this afternoon. They have gotten seven great innings of two-hit ball from Brian Matusz, as well as Endy Chavez's first home run since last August, and I don't want either of those things to go to waste.

In that spirit, I give you Dave Schmidt, who earned a pretty goofy save with three scoreless innings in relief of Mark Williamson on April 29, 1988. The Orioles beat the White Sox 9-0 on a Friday night in old Comiskey Park. This game was noteworthy as the first win for Baltimore following a major-league record 21 straight losses to open the 1988 season. Cal Ripken, Jr. did most of the damage with three runs scored in addition to a home run, a double, and a pair of singles. After Williamson limited the Pale Hose to three singles in six innings, Schmidt took the ball and permitted nothing more than a Donnie Hill single in his three frames.

Sure, a 6-game slide is nothing compared to a 21-gamer, but I'd still like to see the Birds snap out of their funk today.

Dave Schmidt, 1987 O-Pee-Chee #372

One curious thing about O-Pee-Chee is the way they denoted offseason player movement. Why the quotation marks around "Now with Orioles"? Are they being sarcastic? Is this a direct quote of a league or team source? Or is it Dave Schmidt himself who is smugly broadcasting the fact that he's ditched those 90-loss White Sox in favor of the...um...89-loss Orioles? Does he realize that Earl Weaver just retired again? And what is up with his hair? Is that a 1920s flapper wig, or did he dye his hair black during a brief and ill-advised goth phase? So many questions, so few answers.

Dave Schmidt, 1989 Fleer #618

Across the wide spectrum of baseball card collecting, 1989 Fleer has been roundly and justifiably panned. Like all late Eighties cards, the set was so mass-produced that it's used as legal tender on some island nations. Many of the photos have terrible lighting, with players alternately washed out by blinding sunlight or cloaked in shadows. Plus, the design is butt-ugly. When have gray borders ever worked, and what is the deal with the white pinstripes? It looks like a bad suit or a set of vertical blinds. If it weren't for Billy Ripken's unspeakable bat knob, the set would be completely ignored twenty years later.

But as I was flipping through my 1989 Orioles box the other night, I took a closer look at one of Fleer's notorious bombs and found some eye-raising photos. This Dave Schmidt card is the best of the bunch in my humble opinion. It's a crummy shot of the featured player, of course. He's not looking at the camera, he's not pitching or even warming up, and we can't begin to guess what has grabbed his attention. But we can also see a blurry fan in a bright red jacket sitting a few rows back who appears to be clutching his head in pain, probably because he just spent his hard-earned money to see the home team play against the dreadful 1988 Orioles. Tomorrow night Frank Viola and the defending champion Twins come to town...why didn't you double-check the paper before you left the house, pal? Your loss.

But even Mr. Red Jacket pales in comparison to the horror that lurks over Schmidt's right shoulder. Outfitted in sinister black and glowering malevolently, Mike Morgan swears oaths at his teammate and plots the coming moment in which he will strike out at his fellow righthanded journeyman starter, because there can be only one. Sure, they all say Morgan is mad when he tells them that he will pitch across the decades, straight on into the 21st Century. But he'll do it, all right. He'll show them all, even if he has to drain Dave Schmidt of his life force to make it happen. Poor Dave doesn't suspect a thing. They never do.

Dave Schmidt, 1989 Donruss #13

Last night was a pretty good night for a baseball game. If I'm being completely honest, I only decided to go to Oriole Park because of the celebration for the 1989 "Why Not?" Orioles. But I got much more than I expected.

I was at the ballpark at 4:30, in plenty of time to buy the tickets and meet my friend Geoff at 5:00. We went across the street to Pickles Pub and caught up over a few beers, then made our way into the stadium and crossed the concourse to the Orioles Alumni booth, where 1989 team members Mike Devereaux, Dave Schmidt, Mickey Tettleton, and Dave Johnson were signing autographs. Naturally, I was well-prepared with a handful of cards from my collection, including artist Dick Perez's technicolor take on Schmidt, which you can see above. It was a fun moment, especially with the much-beloved "Why Not?" highlight video playing on the left-center field video board. "Devo" in particular looks like he could still be playing today. I made sure to mention to Johnson that we used to go to the same dentist in Middle River. He seemed bemused, responding, "Oh yeah?".

Geoff and I found our seats in the upper deck and watched the bittersweet conclusion to the 1989 video (stupid Blue Jays) and chowed down on some fine stadium fare, and settled in for the beginning of the game. We probably weren't optimistic to start with, and when the O's immediately fell in a 2-run hole thanks to some sloppy play, it looked even worse. The last thing they needed was an early deficit against Jered Weaver, who entered with a 12-3 record and a run of three straight games with ten-plus strikeouts.

So I guess you could say that I was completely caught off guard by a historic night by the Baltimore offense. Six runs in the first, seven more in the seventh, 16 total on 19 hits. They tied team records with nine doubles and a dozen extra-base hits. Brian Roberts had three of those doubles, boosting his major-league-leading total to 43. He has a good shot to break his own club record of 51 two-baggers in one season. Everyone in the lineup had at least one hit, and only Nolan Reimold didn't drive in at least one run. Did I leave anything out?

Oh yeah...the much-maligned Felix Pie, reduced over the past few months to sparing fourth outfielder status, started in left field to allow the sore-legged Nolan Reimold to DH and to give the flu-ridden Luke Scott a night of rest. After allowing a run to score on a wild throw in the first inning, Felix more than redeemed himself with a subsequent diving catch of a low liner as well as a four-hit evening. He became just the fourth player in Baltimore history to hit for the cycle, joining Brooks Robinson, Cal Ripken, Jr., and Aubrey Huff. He pumped his fist and pointed to the Oriole dugout after legging out a triple to clinch the cycle, took a curtain call between innings, and of course endured the customary shaving-cream pie to the face during his post-game interview. A pie for Pie, as many have noted.

All in all, an evening well spent.

Dave Schmidt, 1988 Donruss #371

As I was leafing through some of my 1980s cards tonight, looking for inspiration, I came across veteran swingman Dave Schmidt at the top point of his delivery, chest thrust out, calling full attention toward his belt. But as you might notice, there's no belt to be found, just a cartoonish tri-color striped elastic waistband with a button front. Of all of the aesthetic atrocities committed by baseball teams during the Polyester Era (the descendant of the Wool Era), this is the worst. There is something professional and elegant about baseball players clad in belts, but there's nothing of that to be found in the above photo. From 1971 to 1988, Oriole players and coaches toiled on the diamond and in the dugout and bullpen while giving the appearance of grown men in pajamas. If you ask me, it's not mere coincidence that the Birds nearly went from worst to first in 1989 after ditching the formless neapolitan stripes and returning to those stately black belts.