Vintage Fridays: Hank Bauer, 1964 Topps #178

I headed to Oriole Park at Camden Yards tonight expecting the worst. It was hot and muggy, the Yankees (and by extension their fans) were in town, and the pitching matchup was Ubaldo Jimenez vs. Michael Pineda. Sometimes I love being proven wrong. Jimenez gutted out five innings of three-run ball, the Yanks stranded the bases loaded twice, and the O's hammered out 16 hits en route to an 11-3 win. Chris Davis had a game-breaking three-run homer among his three hits, and Caleb Joseph also had a homer and three hits. New York didn't look much like a first-place team; they had two errors, two more misplays that were generously scored as hits, and a wild pitch. It was fun to watch.

This was a pretty significant win for Baltimore. It's their fifth in a row, their most runs scored since April 26's 18-7 beatdown of the Red Sox, and it draws them even at 30-30. The Birds hadn't seen the .500 mark since May 5. It was also Buck Showalter's 407th win as the O's manager, tying him with Hank Bauer for third-most in team history behind Earl Weaver and Paul Richards. Pretty good for one night's work.

Vintage Fridays: Hank Bauer, 1968 Topps #513

My wife may be the only person who enjoys early mornings less than I do. I routinely wake up at 6:00 AM on work days, and she often refers to it as "the middle of the night". I consider my early rising to be a necessary evil. I work on flex time, so the earlier I get to the office, the earlier I get out. I can clock in as early as six, or as late as half past nine. While it's certainly nice to be home before 5:00 PM most days, it's also important for me to avoid the worst of the Beltway traffic. Nobody likes sitting bumper-to-bumper on the highway, and I know from experience that congestion on 695 can turn a 25-minute commute into an hour-plus slog. If anything, the near four and one-half years that I spent trekking deep into Washington DC for work on a daily basis (by car, train, subway, bus, and foot) have made me even less tolerant of the slightest delays. When I put it all in perspective, even an hour spent traversing 17 miles is a relief compared to the best case scenario of my Columbia-to-Georgetown days, when I'd leave my apartment at 6:45 AM and sit down at my desk around 8:30. But honestly, I feel like I have to make up for the time lost while enduring all of those mass transit delays and breakdowns. Every additional minute spent in my car is a minute not spent watching one of my favorite shows, or playing a video game, or organizing cards, or reading a new book.

I cope with the tedium of my daily drive by keeping my mind stimulated in various ways. Usually I listen to an audiobook or the occasional podcast. I finished The Hunger Games recently and now I'm pushing through Wilkie Collins' 1859 mystery novel The Woman in White, which checks in at a whopping 25 hours of air time. Only 18 hours left to go! If I'm not in the mood for placidly listening along and trying to absorb a narrative, I'll put on some music and play a solo version of the road games that my family has always used for time-wasters on long trips. I often keep track of all of the various out-of-state license plates that I find on the other vehicles. I might watch road signs, billboards, and other such scenery and try to pick out names or words that double as the surnames of past and present baseball players. Sometimes I just let my mind wander and see where it goes...all while keeping my primary focus on the road, of course.

This morning I was out of the house even earlier (and darker) than usual. Our dog, an affectionate 35-pound mutt named Val, has been yanking us out of our slumber around 5:00 AM for the past few days, and I'd already resolved that I would just get up and get moving if it happened again today. If I was already awake, with less than a full hour left before I'd be getting up anyway, might as well see if I can finagle an early exit from the office. So when Val started whining loud enough for me to hear her on the top floor at 5:15, I kept my word and thereby made it to my car by 6:00...just in time for the icy rain that was just bothersome enough to make driving a bigger chore while still allowing my agency to operate on a regular schedule. It didn't look good when I merged onto the Beltway and found three lanes of traffic at a near-standstill. As I craned my neck to search for a path out of the "slow" lane, a tractor trailer bearing the trademarks of Yoo-hoo lurched past in the middle lane. This got me thinking about the number of late-1960s Topps Orioles cards bearing photos taken in the team's spring training facility in Miami. On several of these cards, you can plainly make out the Yoo-hoo sign on the outfield fence. (The clearest view is on the 1967 Andy Etchebarren card that I posted two years back.) That brings me to today's card, with the "Y" of Yoo-hoo peeking out from behind Hank Bauer's right shoulder, and now you know how Friday's sausage was made.

Vintage Fridays: Frank Robinson, Hank Bauer, and Brooks Robinson, 1967 Topps #1

I look at this card - this wonderful, triumphant card - and can't help taking a flight of fancy. After all, there are a few guys on the 2013 Orioles who compare pretty favorably to the cornerstones of that 1966 World Champion club.

First, there's the slugger. Frank Robinson captured the American League Triple Crown, the Most Valuable Player award, and the World Series MVP to boot. You probably know the numbers by now: .316 AVG, 49 HR, 122 RBI. He also topped the league with 122 hits, a .410 on-base percentage, and a .637 slugging percentage to boot.

Chris Davis isn't really a threat for the Triple Crown, since Miguel Cabrera is a remorseless hitting machine, but he's still leading the world with 35 home runs and a slugging percentage right around .700. He's driven in 88 runs in 93 games, and even with a recent cold streak, he's batting a strong .312. If you're curious, Frank was batting .320 and slugging .613 with 25 homers and 64 RBI through 93 games played in '66.

Hank Bauer paid immediate dividends when the O's hired him as manager prior to the 1964 season. He took a talented but inexperienced team and led them to 97 and 94 wins in his first two seasons on the job. But life was tough in the top-heavy American League, and the Birds finished in third each year. 97 W's did the trick in year number three, and before you could say "sweep", the Orioles had dispatched Koufax, Drysdale, and the Dodgers in a four-game World Series.

When Buck Showalter accepted the O's managerial position in August 2010, the team's immediate hope was to stop the bleeding. At 32-73, they hadn't even won a third of their first 105 games. Buck seemed to provide an instant shot in the arm, as the Orioles went 34-23 down the stretch to avoid the near-inevitable 100-loss mark. They weren't able to carry that momentum into the 2011 season, as injuries and inconsistent pitching left the team mired in last place at 69-93. The Birds flipped the script in 2012, winning 93 games and eking out a postseason berth. They were bounced in the Division Series, losing an agonizing 3-1 elimination game to the Yankees, but for the first time in ages, there seemed to be a strong foundation for optimism. Now, it's the third full season under Buck, and the O's are right in the thick of another American League East dogfight. At 52-42, they're two games ahead of last year's pace, yet they're stuck in third place, five games behind the resurgent Red Sox and a game back of the pesky Rays. Will they match 2012's torrid second half stretch run and return to the postseason, taking a shot at Baltimore's first World Series in three decades? Time will tell.

Brooks Robinson was the homegrown star, a solid hitter with some pop in his bat and an otherworldly defensive presence at third base. He'd already won the A. L. MVP in 1964, but he gladly settled in as a complimentary piece to that other Robinson. He batted .269 with 35 doubles, 23 home runs, and 100 RBI, captured his seventh straight Gold Glove at the hot corner, and was even named All-Star Game MVP for his three hits in a losing effort.

This is where the comparison falters a bit. Manny Machado just celebrated his 21st birthday, so it's not altogether fair to hold him up against a Hall of Famer who collected 2,848 hits and 16 Gold Gloves and inspired an entire generation of Baltimoreans to name their kids "Brooks". But Robinson didn't bat over .300 at 21, as Manny has through the first 94 games of 2013. And Brooks never hit 39 doubles in a full season, much less a bit over half of one. And as for amazing defense, plays like this help the imagination to run wild:

Some enterprising person already compiled an animated image juxtaposing Manny's incredible throw with the one made by Brooksie to retire Lee May in the 1970 World Series.

There's a lot of baseball yet to be played, and the odds don't especially favor the O's in a charge to and through the postseason, but it doesn't sound as insane as it did even a year ago. That's all I could ever ask for.

Vintage Fridays: Hank Bauer, 1966 Topps #229

I feel as exuberant as craggy ol' Hank Bauer looks in this uncharacteristic photo. As of 3:30 this afternoon, I am officially on Christmas vacation. I won't have to go back to the office until January 2. That's 11, count 'em, 11 days to do as I please. This is the first time I've been able to take off for the entire week of Christmas since at least 2008. I'll be filling my time with holiday parties with friends, a Christmas Eve and Day with my family, and then a few days in Charlotte with my girlfriend and her loved ones. Naturally, I'll still be checking in with you fine folks each day. Happy holidays!

Vintage Fridays: Hank Bauer and Dave McNally, 1967 Topps #155

There are few things that give me more joy as a baseball fan than beating the Yankees. If you're a fan of any team other than those villains from the Bronx, this should be self-evident. After fifteen years of watching the Yankees leave my Orioles in the dust, and watching the media fawn upon them, and listening to Camden Yards rock with the cheers of carpetbagging Yankee fans nine times a year, to say nothing of Jeffrey F. Maier...every game against New York has taken on a life-or-death importance for me. It's personal. As much losing as the Orioles have done since 1998, every time they rise up against the odds and put down the guys in pinstripes, it means just that much more.

Over 162 games, the details of a baseball season tend to run together. But so many of those victories over the Yanks stand out: Daniel Cabrera's near-no-hitter, Brian Roberts' walk-off home run, Jeremy Guthrie's hard-earned win, Brian Burres outdueling Roger Clemens, Chris Ray's bases-loaded stand...they're all right there in my memory.

I didn't get to see tonight's game; I went straight to a friend's house for dinner after work. I arrived home at 1 AM (still Friday on the West coast!), exhausted after eighteen hours's absence from my warm bed. The first thing I did upon powering up my computer was click over to the Baltimore Sun to see the score on the sports page: Orioles 8, Yankees 2. A gutsy six-inning win for Daniel Cabrera. A seven-run sixth inning, on seven singles. The Yankees looking up at the Birds in the standings. How sweet it is.

I chose this card because it represents a turning point in the fortunes of the O's and the Yanks. In the early 1960's, the young Orioles gave the Bronx Bombers a run for their money almost every year, only to fade down the stretch. When they finally broke through, it was under the tutelage of a former Yankee hero, gruff ex-Marine Hank Bauer. After playing in nine World Series in the span of a decade in New York, Hank found himself exiled to lowly Kansas City in a trade.

Seven years later, he got the last laugh, leading his orange and black charges to the American League pennant in a cake walk while his original team languished in last place. While fans and experts alike fawned over the National League champion Dodgers' one-two punch of Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, it was the Orioles' young arms that carried the day. Dave McNally was the only Baltimore pitcher to give up any runs (a whopping two) in the World Series, and even he "redeemed" himself by outdueling Drysdale in a 1-0 masterpiece to clinch the sweep and put Charm City on top of the baseball world. I love the simple joy and exuberance of this card, as Bauer has been smeared with shaving cream by some practical joker (Moe Drabowsky, perhaps?), but still beams from ear to ear as he embraces the winning pitcher.

Considering the charge that I get out of a regular-season win over the Yankees, I can only imagine how I'd react if the O's ever won it all again.