Unlucky number thirteen. I'm not even angry any more. I'm almost beyond discouragement and depression. This is starting to get impressive, in a surreal way. I mean, you almost have to be trying to lose games to actually drop a baker's dozen of them in succession. The freaking Nationals haven't had a losing skid longer than eight games all season. The laughingstock Royals topped out at ten in a row.
I'm really, honestly trying to count my blessings while the bedraggled, skeleton crew Orioles continue to slowly murder my love for baseball. The next week needs to come and go in a hurry.
Happy Todd Frohwirth Day! Yes, I know what you're thinking: every day is Todd Frohwirth Day. After all, he's the greatest Milwaukee-born submarine pitcher who ever played at Northwest Missouri State University (go Bearcats!). But today is also the 47th birthday of the greatest underhand-tossing relief pitcher on the Orioles' roster in 1991. In all seriousness, Todd did have one excellent season in Baltimore, one very good one, and then one mediocre year. That's more than you or I ever did, unless you happen to be Tippy Martinez, in which case you probably have better things to do than to read this blog. Froh also held Kirby Puckett to a .490 OPS in 22 career matchups, but your probably knew that.
Wow, back-to-back crummy Steves. Didn't even noticed until I started writing the post. Unlike Mr. Jeltz, Steve Kline did have a chance to rain down woes upon the Baltimore faithful, collecting a $2.5 million paycheck in 2005 to post a mediocre 4.28 ERA and a disappointing 1.2 strikeout-to-walk ratio, and cough up a home run every 5.5 innings. Kline, a classy and tactful gentleman who once flipped off manager Tony LaRussa in-game during his time with the Cardinals, instantly earned the respect of O's fans by complaining that he was "miserable" in Charm City and wished he had never left St. Louis. He said these things during the second week of his Orioles tenure. Love you too, #41.
Now, for no good reason, here's a minor league card of Steve Jeltz. Actually, that's not true. I already had a vague sense that this no-hit, all-hair infielder was something of a 1980s cult figure, and I was giving serious consideration to posting this card earlier this week. (Fun fact: he was born in Paris, France!) I passed on it, but his name was brought up independently by reader Jim in the comments for my Luis Mercedes entry. It's funny how you bring up jheri curls and subpar major leaguers whose cards just seem to multiply in your collection and the next thing you know, there's Steve!
While it's true that I write this blog each day (and another blog a few times a week) with no expectation of income, there are those who say that a job well done is its own reward. Of course, that doesn't mean that I will turn down the occasional perk that comes my way. About a week ago, I heard from Dean Hanley, founder and proprietor of Dean's Cards, an online hobby shop that seems to maintain the personal touch of the best brick and mortar shops (Dean has ten employees other than himself). Dean's recently gotten into the blogging game himself, so naturally he wanted to exchange links. I was happy to do so anyway, but he went above and beyond the call of duty by offering to send me some vintage Orioles off of my want list free of charge!
One of the troubling realities of being an Orioles fan who collects and blogs about baseball cards is that I have no less than fifteen different cards of Luis Mercedes. Fifteen! On most of these cards, the former outfield prospect is pictured wearing a batting helmet with what seems like a ridiculously excessive amount of white foam padding. I just don't know why that's the case. I suppose that he could have had a concussion in the recent past and it's a protective measure, like the MacGyvered face masks that adorned the helmets of Gary Roenicke, Dave Parker, and others after coming back from beanings. But I tend to think that this ultra-plush helmet was employed by Luis to preserve his luscious jheri curls.
I dug into my box of mid-90's Orioles cards tonight with something vague, yet oddly specific, in mind. I needed to go to my happy place. After the frustration and ranting and shiny unpleasantness of last night, I had to cleanse the palate. I wanted to find something silly and unusual.
Naturally, I have already vented my spleen about the vulgarities of tonight's Orioles game, just another road bump on the way to 100 losses and another lifeless, cover-your-eyes-ugly September full of anonymous quadruple-A sacrificial lamb players. A blown three-run lead by the back end of our bullpen, the only guys left out there who are supposed to be dependable. Five runs on fifteen hits. Horrendous situational hitting and baserunning. Nick Markakis being left on the bench while the Lou Montanezes and Jeff Fiorentinos floundered at bat in extra innings. Whatever. This is one of those days when I wonder why I even care about this laughingstock, and whether things will ever change, and why I let myself get so angry about the whole damn thing.
There's much ado about autographs tonight. Firstly, this is the fourth and final card that I had signed on Friday, August 14 at Oriole Park. I love Mike Devereaux's flashy yet mostly legible John Hancock, and I appreciate his discretion in signing at the bottom of the card so as to not cover up that awesome action shot. In case you were wondering: no, Devo does not sport the high fade hairstyle any more.
In a possible sign of mental illness, I'm posting another one of these absolutely fetching 1989 Fleer things. Again, the photography just raises so many questions:
Oh, so that's what Javy Lopez would look like if he were painted by Claude Monet. At least that's the look that Topps was trying to achieve; in all honesty, it bears a closer resemblance to the work of LeRoy Neiman. That's what you get when you rely on PhotoShop filters instead of, you know, an actual artist.
I hope you'll forgive me for simply passing along a link on a Friday night, but I don't want to take a chance on an excellent blog post slipping through the cracks. I already knew (and had mentioned here) that Patricia and Lucy from Dinged Corners had become big fans of the dearly departed Moe Drabowsky. However, I was stunned and pleased to come across an interview that they published on Tuesday. The bloggingest card collecting mother-daughter duo in all of New Mexico had been in contact with Laura Nevell and Beth Drabowsky Morris. Laura and Beth are Moe's daughters, and they were kind enough to share their memories of the mischievous righty. It's a great chance to get a private glimpse of a loving father, an entertaining teammate, a patient coach, a gracious ambassador, and a pretty skilled pitcher.
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.
Say, who wants an autographed Melvin Mora card? If you shouted "me, me!", you'd better make plans to attend Saturday's home game against the Red Sox. As part of OriolesREACH and the Oriole Advocates' 2009 Cardboard to Leather collection, volunteers will be positioned at the Oriole Park gates to accept donations of new and gently used baseball and softball equipment (gloves, bats, balls, shoes, uniforms, catchers' gear, bases, umpires' equipment, etc.). They'll also take cash donations. Anyone who donates will receive an autographed baseball card featuring Melvin. The proceeds from the collection will be sent to his foundation in Venezuela and to the Sebaco Valley Little Leagues in Venezuela. Even if you don't want the autograph, it can't hurt to give a little.
I've certainly said more than my share about Brian Roberts lately, so I will let MASN O's blogger Roch Kubatko tell you tonight's news:
It's always kind of intriguing to feature an Orioles card of a player who never actually made it to the major leagues. This card of lefty pitcher Mike Linskey is already kind of strange, in that he's wearing the "new" O's hat that debuted in 1989 but it is paired with the "old" jersey that was put in mothballs after 1988. But things become even more curious when you take a good long look at Mike's glove. Written near the thumb in black Sharpie is the word "NUKE". I can only assume that this is a nickname bestowed upon the Birds' ninth-round pick of the 1988 draft, probably a reference to Tim Robbins' Nuke LaLoosh character in the very popular film "Bull Durham". The movie came out in 1988, and featured Robbins as a naive, flaky minor league phenom who had to learn to control himself and his fastball. (Incidentally, the film was written and directed by former O's minor leaguer Ron Shelton, who based Nuke's character on former teammate and human myth Steve Dalkowski).
With a tip of the hat to the always-timely 30-Year-Old Cardboard blog, today marks the 38th anniversary of Frank Robinson's 500th career home run. As I read Brian's description of the event, I noticed many uncanny similarities to Eddie Murray's 500th longball, which occurred 25 years later. Observe:
Last night I was thumbing through a brick of cards from yet another overstuffed envelope courtesy of reader Max. When I got to this Jim Palmer card, I had the following progression of thoughts:Some ballparks have banned pepper games because of the danger of balls landing in the stands and injuring spectators. Some of these stadiums may display a "NO PEPPER" warning on the edges of the field near the stands. Major League Baseball has also discouraged pepper because it damages the infield grass."
The way the ex-players described it, you wanted a glove that was as hard and small as possible, making it more so a paddle than a glove. In recent years, Upper Deck has been using one particular photo of "Cakes" over and over again, so it's nice to see a really creative action shot like the one on this card. Can you think of any other cards you've seen that depict a game of pepper?
When his company bought Topps, and again this summer when they effectively re-established a baseball card monopoly by negotiating exclusive rights with Major League Baseball, jut-browed tyrant Michael Eisner smarmed about his altruistic desire to bring baseball card collecting back to the "kids". Just reading his warmed-over corporate speak made me want to take a long, hot shower. Well, riddle me this, Mr. Disney: if baseball cards were such a pure, child-friendly pursuit in the good old days, just how do you explain this utterly indecent offering from three decades past? Where did that photographer have to be positioned to get such an intimate and extensive angle on Paul Mitchell's special area? Which editor at Topps looked at this photo and said, "Yes! Here's a 25-year-old kid who just went 13-1 between Rochester and Baltimore, someone so desirable that he will help the Orioles land Reggie Jackson in a trade. The world is his. This photo, this gray polyester expanse, says it all!"
