Hondo: The only expansion Senator fans remember

Growing up in the Washington, D.C., area in the late 1950s through the 1960s, I started buying Topps penny wax packs – yes, they sold those back then with one card and a slab of gum starting in 1957. I got them from an old school bus converted into a rolling grocery store that stopped on our street. At that point, I knew next to nothing about the game itself. But I soon became enamored of the first Senators franchise and then, having no real alternative, the expansion team.

Quickly assembled, those second Nats lost 100 games four seasons in a row. Manager Gil Hodges, hired in May 1963, pushed for a trade of the Senators’ best pitcher, lefty Claude Osteen, to the Dodgers, for several unproven players and one slugging outfielder, 6-foot-7 Frank Howard.

 At 87, Howard died on Oct. 30, 2023.

I spent a good bit of my allowance on Topps nickel packs and also Fleer ’59 Ted Williams cards and the Fleer old-timers sets in 1961 and ’62. But mostly I craved  Senators cards, easily settling on big Frank as my favorite player. By the time he arrived, I was old enough to drive and subscribe to The Sporting News. I drove about 20 minutes with one of my buddies as often as we could to D.C. Stadium to pay $1.50 general admission and watch Howard do his best to play left field. The struggling Senators didn’t draw well, so the ushers always let us move down to the left-field boxes after a couple of innings.

Because he gained his most enduring fame in Washington, eight of my 10 favorite Howard cards picture him as a Senator. During his playing days my choices were restricted by the Topps monopoly and surely seem a bit static compared with those of the 1980s and beyond. No matter. Seven of them are on my list.

 A multitude of post-career Howard cards are out there. I don’t collect anywhere near all of them. Some are quite nice. But two I do have are among my 10 favorites of a man who probably is the only member of the Washington expansion team that fans today might have heard of.

10. 1964 Topps #139 World Series game as a Dodger

Howard’s homer off Whitey Ford in Game 4 of the 1963 Series in Los Angeles is featured in the World Series subset. It looks like Whitey’s pitch was meant to be below the strike zone, but Frank golfed it out. Howard’s homer didn’t by itself seal the doom – a Mantle homer tied it — but it sure helped in a 2-1 victory and Dodgers’ sweep. Such a big moment deserves a spot on my list.

9. 1971 Topps #620

This is Howard’s last Senators’ card. The end of an era and A.L. baseball in D.C. Having lost two teams, it took me several years to return to the game. Years later, when I found a big batch of my 1960s cards, I became serious about collecting. I bought this card online. The nice head-shot shows the defending home run and RBI champ with the eyeglasses he always wore, his red batting helmet over his baseball cap, which was a common practice back then. His first five cards as a Dodger, by the way, show him without eyeglasses, but he wore them in every card as a Senator. The back of the ’70 card makes note of his record 10 homers in six games in 1968.

A downside is Topps pawning off, as it did in the ’67 set, a facsimile autograph that obviously isn’t how Howard signs his name. (More on that later.)

8. 1969 Topps #170

This one has an even better head-shot than the ’71 card and features the last photo of the blue cap with the curly W, the one the current Nationals wear, and the red piping, although the circle with his name covers up the piping. I got the one I have PSA graded as I slowly build my “Decade of the Senators” set.

7. 1971 Kellogg’s 3D #14

The best cards of Howard feature him with a bat in his hand, which is why this card makes my list. I admit I got this card long after he retired, but it’s a card from his playing days that isn’t a Topps and he’s in a white home uniform. The card also noted the nickname that was most familiar to his fans: “Hondo.” And it has a facsimile autograph of what appears to be Howard’s own signing style.

6. 1984 Topps #621

He was named to manage to Mets after George Bamberger quit at the beginning of June in 1983. By the time the card was issued, the Mets had hired Davey Johnson ( Johnson is in that year’s Topps Traded set) to replace Howard, but I’m glad I got to see a card with him in the uniform of the team I followed after I lost the Nats and before Washington got a team back. This is a PSA 10 from my 1984 PSA set, which is 98 percent complete, if anybody but me cares.

5. 1985 Topps Collectors’ Series #19

I got this card for a couple of bucks on eBay. Howard, bat in hand, helmet over his cap and no batting gloves, is wearing a road uniform. The team used the script “Senators” at home and on the road, rather than “Washington,” after 1962. None of Howard’s Topps cards show him in the pinstriped home uniform used through 1968. The card’s back notes his 1960 Rookie-of-the-Year selection, his home runs crowns in 1968 and 1970 and his RBI title in ’70, which makes it more appealing to me than some other archival cards.

4. 1968 Topps #320

Howard in a batting stance, sans helmet. On his left hand, he wears some type of thick-looking batting glove, which nobody used in games back then, other than Ken Harrelson.  The cartoon quiz on the back notes his status as a basketball All-American at Ohio State. He was an NBA draftee.

3. 1994 Ted Williams Card Company #88

This Ted Williams series card shows Howard completing his powerful swing, stirrups over inner socks I would assume, in the all-white home uniform worn in 1969 through 1971, the years Ted himself managed the expansion team. The lighter secondary image shows him in a home uniform with pinstripes, which would have been from 1968, given his red helmet over what looks like a red cap. The back nicely lists stats from his five best seasons, although his career totals credit him with 1,119 doubles! I wish.

The back also features what look like a Howard autograph the way he signs them. The main giveaway is the true cursive F rather than the printed F on the two phony Topps autographs. I’ve included a scan of the Howard autograph that he signed for me outside D.C. Stadium before a June 1965 game with the Yankees (I got Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford the same day. Still have ‘em) It’s similar to the cursive F in every Howard card with a purportedly genuine autograph that I’ve seen online.

2. 1971 Topps #65: 1970 American League Home Run Leaders

My copy of this is a PSA 7. Although this was the second time Howard led in homers, this leader card has him atop Hall of Famers Harmon Killebrew, whose 49 topped Hondo’s 48 for the title in ’69, and Carl Yastrzemski. The Senators finished 10th in 1968, so the ’69 leader card can’t help but remind me of what Branch Rickey is often quoted as having told homer champ Ralph Kiner: “We can finish last without you.” The 1971 card followed the expansion team’s first (and only) winning record, and with Howard capping four seasons in which he hit more home runs that anybody else in the majors.

1. 1966 Topps #515

This card was his first as a Senator. Even though Howard was dealt to Washington on December 4, 1964, his ’65 Topps card shows him as Dodger, while noting the trade on the back. In any case, this 1966 is a beauty: The bespectacled Howard kneeling as if on-deck, a good shot of the cap with the curly W and  the red piping,  the script “Senators” across his jersey. To my delight, this card accompanies Mark Armour’s SABR bio essay on Howard. His best seasons were yet to come, but Hondo was already the club’s foundation player.

I love wearing the Senators’ 1963 to ’68 blue curly W caps these days because people figure, correctly,  that I’m a Nationals’ fan, but if they ask about it, I get to tell them that the hat is actually one the Senators wore back in the 1960s.

Howard was beloved by Washington fans, me included. He hit the last Senators’ homer in the last game at what became Robert F. Kennedy Stadium, even if the pitch was admittedly grooved. He loved playing in D.C. He has a statue outside Nationals Park. His career did not make him a Hall of Famer, but he always will be one in the hearts of us aging Senators’ fans.

Shrödinger’s bat

As someone who’s been in the Hobby a while, here are the three questions I get most?

  • “How much are my cards worth?”
  • “How do I sell my collection?”
  • “How can I tell if this is real?”

I’ll focus this article on the third of these questions, but I’ll flip the script by asking you about an item in my own collection.

Earlier this year, I acquired this Rennie Stennett model bat, marked up in black Sharpie with details from his famous 7-for-7 game at Wrigley Field.

Per the manufacturer, the bat dates to around 1975.

So now comes the question that must be asked. Is there any chance the bat is real, with real meaning from Rennie’s historic 7-for-7 game?

OF COURSE IT’S NOT REAL!

Before anyone gets too excited for me, there are at least two giant reasons to suspect the bat is not real.

For one thing, there is that nearly infallible rule of not just collecting: If it’s too good to be true, it probably is! Applying this rule, what are the chances I stumbled upon such an incredible piece of Pirates history for a price that wasn’t insane? At best, slim to none.

For another thing, the whereabouts of Rennie’s bat are already well known, and let’s just say its address isn’t exactly Western Springs, Illinois.

BUT WHAT IF…?

On the other hand, is it possible Stennett used multiple bats that day? When a guy comes to the plate seven times, a lot can happen, right? And this is where I zoom in one some features of the bat that likely went unnoticed in the earlier photos.

Look closely and you’ll see that the bat was split and then carefully repaired with small nails.

Could it be then that Rennie did use this bat that day, breaking it during one of his plate appearances, before subbing for the bat now at the Hall of Fame?

IF ONLY SOMEONE WERE THERE!

Remarkably in the span of a single month, I bumped into three people who were at the game:

  • Manny Sanguillen, the Pirates catcher that day
  • Nancy Faust, longtime White Sox organist who was the guest organist at Wrigley that day
  • Dan Evans, former Los Angeles Dodgers GM and current SABR board member

In Dan’s case, he even kept score!

I was a bit too star-struck to ask Manny or Nancy about the game, but I did ask Dan. Unfortunately, Dan, whose baseball memory is up there with the best of them, did not recollect the game at the level of broken bats.

THE FINAL NAIL?

Though I’m wired to keep hope alive, I’ll add one more detail that seemingly settles the case. Look carefully at the Hall of Fame bat and you’ll see the name as R STENNETT. Meanwhile, my bat shows the name as RENNIE STENNETT. Several other differences are evident as well. Would bats used the same day really differ this much?

On the other hand, there are a couple other pictures of Stennett with a bat that day, and they do seem to signal some variety. First, here is a Charles E. Knoblock/AP photo that appeared in some papers the next day. Though it’s possible Rennie just grabbed a random bat for the photo, you’ll notice the “pro ring” (navy blue band) around both my bat and the Hall bat are not present in the Knoblock photo.

The second picture comes from MLB footage of Rennie’s seventh at bat. The video is about as high res as the Zapruder film, meaning any conclusions should be taken with a grain of salt. However, the lower half of the bat seems to be darker than the barrel. If so, this stands in contrast not only with my bat, which is evenly toned, but the Hall’s bat as well.

Still, even if Rennie did use multiple bats that day, it’s probably still a stretch to presume my bat was one of them.

SO YOU’RE SAYING THERE’S A CHANCE?!

I’ll offer two reasons that give me at least a glimmer of hope, the first relating to the bat’s previous owner. If I take the seller at his word, having spoken with him by phone at length, this bat was part of his father’s very large and extensive Pirates collection, the Clemente items alone fetching six figures. In other words, there was a lot of nice stuff where this bat came from.

Second, why mark up some random bat with all the details of the historic game? Sure, I’ve heard of players inscribing memorabilia to denote their achievements (e.g., “I bet on baseball. Pete Rose.”), but wouldn’t such a thing be accompanied by an autograph? Here, of course, there is none.

CONCLUSION

In the end, I’m left with only two possibilities, both seemingly unlikely.

  • The bat is from the 7-for-7 game and now belongs to me of all people!
  • The bat is not from the game but was meticulously repaired and marked up with details of the game.

Borrowing from quantum mechanics, I might consider the bat as real and not real, a sort of Shrödinger’s bat, neither awesome nor oddball but both.

Football Card Mount Rushmore

If you’ve come here to read about Tom Brady, Joe Namath, and Jim Brown cards, let me save you the trouble. The Mount Rushmore I’ve focused on here is a much more literal one. As such, like our National Memorial, it starts with a Washington—NFL barrier breaker Kenny Washington, that is!

WASHINGTON

Here is Washington’s rookie card from the 1948 Leaf football set. Vintage baseball card collectors will quickly note the design similarities to the 1949 Leaf baseball set.

The card’s image features Washington in a classic quarterback pose reminiscent of his October 1946 Ebony magazine cover. One notable difference is Washington’s uniform number.

Interestingly, I don’t believe Washington wore 39 or 46 with any of his teams (UCLA Bruins, Hollywood Bears, San Francisco Clippers, Los Angeles Rams). This leads me to suspect the 46 jersey on the magazine cover was simply a nod to the start of the 1946 football season. As for the 39, more on that later.

LINCOLN

Turning our attention to Mount Rushmore’s Lincoln, here is Kenny Washington’s other rookie card, his 1948 Bowman. What does this card have to do with Lincoln? Check the bio, which notes that Washington was “considered by many as the greatest high school player in Southern California history!”

As you may have guessed, Washington graduated from Abraham Lincoln High School in the Lincoln Heights area of Los Angeles. (Readers may enjoy this unusual Black Sox connection courtesy of SABR’s own Jacob Pomrenke.)

Unlike the Leaf rookie, the Bowman shows Washington carrying the football. While the card back notes Washington as a prolific passer, league standards of the era compelled players of Kenny’s “tan” complexion to pass less and (wait for it…) Rushmore!

Though not an exact match, the Bowman photo appears to have been taken at nearly the same time as this one. The location is Compton College (alma mater to Coolio and Snoop Dogg), which is where the Rams practiced in 1946.

ROOSEVELT

Collectors of 1948 Leaf football know that nearly every card in the set has some sort of color variation, and the Kenny Washington card is no exception. As such, the third card on our football Mount Rushmore, which by now you’ve figured out is actually Kenny Washington Mount Rushmore, is Washington’s scarce “white lettering” rookie.

Of course, keeping with the theme, we need a Roosevelt connection, so here goes. Check the last sentence to the bio.

“Starred in baseball, basketball, and track as well as football while at UCLA.”

Who else does that sound like? None other than Washington’s Bruin teammate Jack Roosevelt Robinson, shown wearing number 28 in the photo below. Washington himself is the player on the right, and we’ll return soon enough to the player on the left.

1939 UCLA Bruins “Goal Dust Trio”

JEFFERSON

The fourth card on our Kenny Washington Mount Rushmore will look a lot like the first and third ones, so much so that rookie card collectors should take heed. While the card front is indistinguishable from the 1948 Leaf rookie, the reverse clearly places the card with the 1949 Leaf football set. (The card number, updated bio, and 1949 copyright are among the most prominent differences.)

It is this 1949 Leaf Kenny Washington card then that occupies the Jefferson spot on Mount Rushmore, but what’s the connection? When Kenny Washington broke the NFL’s color barrier in 1946, he did not do it alone. Thomas Jefferson High School legend and UCLA teammate Woody Strode also suited up for the Rams in 1946, and you’ll never guess his jersey number! Okay, maybe you will: 39, the one worn by Washington on the Leaf card.

Strode, who also married a princess, wrestled professionally, and acted in nearly 100 movies and television shows, also happens to be the other player in that earlier Bruins photo. (Just to add to the presidential fun, his nickname Woody was short for Woodrow Wilson. Look it up!)

Woody Strode vs Kirk Douglas in “Spartacus”

So there you have it, the Mount Rushmore of Kenny Washington football cards… one for each president!

BONUS PRESIDENT…AND EMPEROR?!

Though the above four cards represent the Mount Rushmore (and totality!) of Washington’s playing era football cards, they do not include what may be his most desirable card. This honor instead belongs to a baseball card, namely Washington’s 1950 Hage’s Dairy card with the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League.

Readers will note the Jackie Robinson cameo in the card’s bio, but what’s the connection to president number five? I admit it’s a stretch, but meet the best player on the 1950 Angels!

Calvin Coolidge Julius Caesar Tuskahoma “Cal” McLish

NOTES:

  • SABR member Lou Moore’sWe Will Win the Day” offers a great read on Kenny Washington, Woody Strode, and the integration of professional football.
  • Two excellent longer reads are “The Black Bruins” by James W. Johnson and “The Forgotten First” by Keyshawn Johnson and Bob Glauber.
  • For more on the football cards of professional football’s barrier breakers, see the excellent Sports Collectors Daily article by Horacio Ruiz.
My two Washington cards

Back Story: 1963 Topps (and Fleer)

After a rather lengthy break, I am back with the latest in a series of pieces about that oft-neglected part of our beloved baseball cards: the backs. Prior articles have covered the backs—and a bit about the front sides—of the 1956 Topps, 1960 Topps, 1954 Topps and Bowman, 1955 Topps and Bowman, and 1971 Topps sets. 

The 1963 Topps set is significant in my personal collecting history. I turned 15 that year, and for the first time since the mid-1950s, I did not attempt to collect the latest Topps offering. I was now in high school, and card collecting wasn’t a cool thing for a kid my age to be doing—or so I thought. I did not begin to seriously work on completing the 1963 set until four or five years ago, starting from a base of 50-60 cards that I had obtained back in the early ‘70s from my boyhood friend Dave (see my blog article, “My rookie collecting year”). 

That took a while—and a sizeable investment. Along with the premium prices for Mantle, Mays, Aaron and other superstars of the era, one of the biggest challenges to collectors hoping to complete the 1963 set are the high-priced rookie cards of Willie Stargell and (especially) Pete Rose, both of which show up in the set’s scarce last series. What is particularly exasperating is that 1963 is one of the first Topps sets to feature multi-player “Rookie Stars” cards, a lamentable tradition that Topps had initiated with its “Rookie Parade” cards at the end of the 1962 set. The Rose “rookie card” is a tiny head shot of Pete, along with shots of Pedro González, Ken McMullen and Al Weis; Stargell is grouped with Brock Davis, Jim Gosger and John Hernnstein. I can assure you that the ugliness of these cards is no barrier to the amount of money it costs to own them. But I bit the bullet, and my set is finally complete. Huzzah!

The design of the 1963 set is fairly conventional for Topps sets of the period. The most distinguishing feature of the front sides of the cards is that they include both a large color shot of the player and a black and white “action” shot of the player in a small circle next to the player’s name. Topps had done this sort of thing several times in the past: the 1954, 1955, 1956 and 1960 sets all include a head shot of the player paired with some sort of action pose. But in many instances in the 1963 set, the color photo shows the player from the waist up, in some sort of action pose—essentially duplicating what’s in the black and white shot. To cite one example, Al Kaline’s card features a large color shot of Al holding his bat at the completion of a swing. The smaller black-and-white shot shows Al with a bat on his shoulder. Isn’t this a little redundant?

Even when the cards don’t feature that sort of duplication, the black and white photos, pasted into a tiny orange, red or yellow circle, seldom look good. The photos themselves are often dark and unattractive. Even worse, a lot of the black and white shots appear to have been taken a year or more earlier, when many of the players were performing for other teams. The result is some of Topps’s worst examples of “adventures in airbrushing.”

For instance, the “45s” on the caps of Houston’s Don Nottebart and Dave Guisti are laughably huge, as are the “NY” on the caps of the Mets’ Wynn Hawkins and Pumpsie Green.

The bird on the cap of Hall of Famer Luis Aparicio  is so large that it appears that an actual Baltimore oriole had landed on his hat.

The “W” on Don Leppert’s cap isn’t overly large—but it’s way too wide, looking nothing like the trim red W’s that the Washington Senators were featuring in 1963.

The C on Pedro Ramos’s cap is properly sized—but the Cleveland cap logo is different from the one Ramos is sporting in his color shot, and the uniform shirt in the black-and-white shot has no logo or team name at all. It’s like Pedro showed up for a tryout in an outfit he brought from home, and the Topps photographer was there to commemorate the event.

What makes the decision use these often-embarrassing photos so perplexing is that Topps made a far superior choice for the cards of the team managers: instead of a small photo in the circle next to his name, the manager cards simply feature the team logo. Check out the cards of Billy Hitchcock, Ralph Houk and Fred Hutchinson—the logos look really sharp and fit perfectly with the overall design of the cards. Since Topps had been utilizing team logos on its player cards for a number of years, the choice to use those tiny “action” photos is all the more baffling.

The backs of the 1963 cards feature a design of very much in line with Topps cards of the era. The stat lines feature year-by-year totals, a brief comment about the player, and a cartoon about some aspect of the player’s career. Topps had been using cartoons on the backs of its cards on a fairly consistent basis since 1954, and I give the ones on the 1963 set excellent marks for both cleverness and humor. They 1963 cartoons aren’t as laugh-out-loud funny as, say, the classic 1956 set, but they’re usually quite good.

To cite a few examples, I like Frank Sullivan throwing a tantrum on the mound over losing the 1955 All-Star game; Dal Maxvill wielding a vacuum cleaner as a sign of his defensive prowess (this was a few years before Brooks Robinson became known as “the human vacuum cleaner”); Dick Stigman hypnotizing a batter into striking out; and a clever cartoon showing Bill Bryan’s unusual height for a catcher. There are a number of other good examples.

Unfortunately, there’s a very basic problem with many of these cartoons: they often show a player batting or throwing from the wrong side. For instance, left-hander Pete Richert’s card shows him pitching with his right hand.

I would totally love the cartoon showing lefty-hitting Chuck Hiller as the 1960 Texas League batting champion, with Chuck, the catcher and the umpire all sporting ten-gallon hats (while a steer looks on in the background)… if only Hiller wasn’t shown batting righty.

Southpaw Steve Hamilton’s cartoon that Steve enjoys playing golf in his spare time… but Steve is tossing a ball toward a golf hole with his right hand.

Like virtually every catcher in modern baseball history, Bob Tillman wore his mitt on his left hand… but his cartoon has him learning to play first base with the glove on his right hand.

Smoky Burgess had been tormenting major league pitchers with his left-handed stroke since 1949—but in the cartoon on the back of his 1963 cards, he’s batting righty. Meanwhile right-handed hitting Dave Nicholson is shown batting lefty.

A few mistakes in a 576-card set would be understandable—but this particular sloppiness happened way too often in the 1963 Topps set. And not to pile it on, but the most major gaffe in the ’63 happened on front of a card: both the color and black-and-white shots on Don Landrum’s card feature pictures of future Hall of Famer Ron Santo. As Ronnie once blurted out during a Cubs broadcast when Brant Brown dropped a flyball in a crucial late-season game: “Ohhh, noooo!!!!”

And yet for all its imperfections, the 1963 Topps set is colorful and fun and very popular with collectors, and I’m very happy to have it in my collection. Plus, consider the competition. Fleer had been inching into the baseball card business for several years prior to 1963, with a Ted Williams set in 1959 and “Baseball Greats” sets in 1960 and 1961. However, Topps had exclusive baseball card contracts with most major league players.

In 1963, Fleer attempted to enter the current-player baseball card market via a clever gambit: since Topps cards were sold with gum, Fleer produced a card set packaged with a cherry-flavored cookie. Topps took Fleer to court and was able to halt production, but not before a 66-card first series of Fleer cards had entered the marketplace. The set was most notable for featuring a card of Maury Wills, who had refused to sign with Topps after feeling that the company had snubbed him as a young player (Wills would not appear in a Topps set until 1967).

Compared to the Topps set, the design of the 1963 Fleer set frankly looks amateurish. The color photos the on front of the cards are fine, but the design includes a rather pointless yellow baseball diamond, with a drawing inside the diamond that denotes the player’s position (infield/outfield/pitcher/catcher), as shown in the cards of Dick Howser, Leon Wagner and Frank Lary.

Even with cartoons of players swinging from the wrong side, Topps still ruled the day.

Mr. Oriole, RIP

One challenge in writing about Brooks Robinson is that there is no “other shoe”. No controversies, no anger, no regret, no sadness. He won a bunch of trophies, including two World Championships. He doesn’t appear to have ever said anything bad about anyone in his life, nor was anything bad ever said about him. Who amongst us can claim that?

I was a Red Sox fan, and the Orioles kicked our ass every year, but it was hard to dislike them. A good friend, just two houses down, was an Orioles fan, but what could I really say to him? “Oh yeah, well Brooks sucks!” “He’s such a showboat!” I mean, I guess I *could* have said those things. But instead I just admired all of them, and rooted for them in the playoffs every year.

The first card I ever saw of Brooks Robinson, the hero who died this week, was card #600 from the 1967 Topps set. I began collecting cards that summer, age 6, and was still gathering them at the end of the season, when the seventh series was on the shelves. A decade later this became a famously expensive card, perhaps the first $100 card from the 1960s, because of its place as the most desirable card from the legendary 1967 high numbers. (This was before “rookie” cards came along and created silly demand for first year players.)

Brooks also played a starring role on card #1, which honored the manager and two stars from the 1966 champions. As I knew literally nothing about baseball history, this card would have been news to me.

And also on card #154, one of the more famous post-final-out leaps in World Series history. Not the best angle for Brooks, but I consider this the GOAT of World Series cards.

The more famous perspective:

When I was falling in love with baseball Brooks Robinson was a star player on the game’s best team, the Baltimore Orioles, one of history’s greatest ever teams. His co-star was Frank Robinson, and both men delighted in pointing out that they were not related.

In the Orioles best season, 1970, Robinson had his usual regular season (18 home runs, 94 RBI), hit .583 in the LCS sweep of the Twins, a topped it off with a World Series for the ages: .429 with two home runs, and several stunning defensive plays that people are still talking about. So he made an impression. He is one of two players in history to win a league MVP (1964), an All-Star game MVP (1966) and a World Series MVP (1970).

The other? Frank Robinson. What are the odds?

This card shows one of the many great plays Brooks made that October, this one robbing Johnny Bench on a line drive in the hole.

Not the best angle, but apparently the Topps photographer had a bad seat.

Even before Game 5 (the final game) Robinson was already dominating the coverage of the series, and then he topped himself to close out the Big Red Machine. After the game, Pete Rose provided the best line: “Brooks Robinson belongs in a higher league.”

Between 1966 and 1974 the Orioles were 24-15 in 39 post-season games, and Brooks was often in the middle of the action.

Robinson played 23 years for the Orioles, though these included some sub-par seasons at both the beginning and the end. He had a 15-year core (1960-74) in which he was a 5.0 WAR player, every year an all-star, every year a Gold Glove winner. He holds all the 3B longevity records (games, putouts, assists, double plays) generally by huge margins.

Several years ago I had the pleasure of appearing on a baseball cards panel at the Baseball Hall of Fame. Bruce Markusen, the moderator, asked us a few days earlier what our favorite card was, so that he could have an image he could display on the screen. I chose the 1969 Brooks Robinson. Why?

I don’t recall what I said that day in Cooperstown, but I have long considered this to be Topps best design (though not its best set, because of all its problems with hatless, hat-altered, or recycled photos). But its best cards were brilliantly executed. The Brooks Robinson (with an image recycled, though re-cropped, from 1967) represents why I loved cards, and loved baseball. A colorful design, a superstar player (and person), looking awesome and happy on a bright spring day.

Brooks Robinson leaves behind a bunch of statistics and the love of millions of people, especially in his adopted hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. Rest in easy and eternal peace.

The Great American Baseball Card Flipping, Trading and Bubble Gum Zoom Presentation Blog Post

It’s hard to explain what it was like being a young card collector in the early ’70’s. I’ll give it a shot, to the best of my somewhat fading memory

I started collecting in earnest in 1972, spurred on by the handful of card dealer ads in the back of The Sporting News. I mailed away for a few catalogs, then began ordering. My main dealer, the Card Collectors Company in Franklin Square, New York, had a catalog listing card numbers and prices. I didn’t have a checklist book; I had no idea what I was getting. The Topps numbering system assured me that if I ordered cards #1, #50, #100, and so on, as well as the last card in the set, I was sure to hit on some good names. Sometimes (gasp!) that last card was a checklist and the keys to the kingdom were opened.

There weren’t any card shops, at least that I knew of, and shows were a new-fangled idea, few and far between. The first show I went to was the ASCCA show in Manhattan in September 1973. We drove in from Long Island on Saturday the 15th, the day after my birthday. What a scene! Overwhelming in every way, and I had no idea what to buy. I ended up with two T-206s (Hal Chase and a Mathewson with the back nearly gone), a 1962 Jim Brown, a 1965 Don Maynard, and, for $15, signed photos of Joe DiMaggio and Jackie Robinson. I’m sure there were other purchases, but those are what stick.

For Hannukah that year I got The Great American Baseball Card Flipping, Trading, and Bubble Gum Book by Fred C. Harris and Brendan C. Boyd. It’s impossible to overstate the impact of this book on me, and every other card collector of the era, from 10 years old and up. Again, I’ll give it a shot.

First, there were cards. Pages and pages of cards, nearly all from the 1950’s and 1960’s. I had never seen these before! How could I? The catalogs didn’t have many pictures, if they had them at all. What a gift. It made my head spin.

Second, there was the writing. It was beyond funny: sharp, but warm, silly, but deep, nostalgic, but not maudlin. Harris and Boyd had a ‘60’s sense of irreverence and impudence, and even for a kid like me it resonated. There was a love for the game and the cards that was genuine, but not too serious. This was a life lesson I could take to heart.

Third, there was a sense of shared community. Most of my friends were card collectors, but they were children. Harris and Boyd were grown men, seemingly in their late-20’s. They looked pretty cool too. What were these guys doing in the baseball card world? That looked like a future I could embrace.

When it was decided that Harris and Boyd would receive the 2023 Jefferson Burdick Award from the SABR Baseball Cards Committee, I was ecstatic, ecstatic enough that I was given the job (yeah, not really a job) to interview Fred. In preparation for the Zoom ceremony, Fred and I chatted for an hour about his childhood and baseball, his friendship and instant connection to Boyd (now, sadly, passed), how the book came to be and the legacy it built. Fred is a joy and, if you couldn’t attend the event, you can watch it here:

One of the things that Fred said that I hadn’t ever considered, was how TGABCFTABGB was an early harbinger of the ‘50’s nostalgia boom. Happy Days wouldn’t premier until 1974 (though its initial appearance came in a 1972 segment of Love, American Style). American Graffiti came out in August of 1973 and Harris and Boyd in October. Harris and Boyd weren’t as romantically wistful as those two pop culture icons, which, then and now, is to their vast credit.

A half-century later, those 10-year-olds are shockingly 60 (I know I’m shocked!). If you’re reading this, then you’re likely still collecting cards, and Fred Harris and Brendan Boyd are totems, the Lennon and McCartney and Laurel and Hardy of the baseball card world. With The Great American Baseball Card Flipping, Trading, and Bubble Gum Book, Harris and Boyd shared their love of the game and the cards with all of us, and we’ve loved the two of them back ever since. They gave us a gift that has lasted forever, and it never felt that their hair was too tight.

Carl Hubbell mini-mystery

Here are four cards from my Carl Hubbell collection: his 1932 New York Giants Schedule, his 1934 Goudey, his 1935 Diamond Stars, and his 1939 Play Ball. Aside from the obvious, what do all four of these cards have in common?

Breaking from conventional wisdom, all four identify King Carl as a switch-hitter.

  • 1932 NYG Schedule – “Bats Right and Left”
  • 1934 Goudey – “Bats either left-handed or right-handed”
  • 1935 Diamond Stars – “Bats both ways”
  • 1939 Play Ball – “Bats: Both Sides”

The same is true for Hubbell’s 1946-47 Propagandas Montiel (Cuban) card, which notes that the pitcher batea en ambas manos.

Is it possible that these cards, produced across a span of 15 years by five different companies, know something we don’t? Was the Meal Ticket really a switch-hitter?

A career .191 hitter with 4 lifetime home runs, the answer may well be “who cares!” After all, this isn’t Mickey Mantle or Eddie Murray we’re talking about. On the other hand, a switch-hitting Hubbell would at least impact the answer to a common baseball trivia question, that of the first switch-hitter to be enshrined in Cooperstown.

The Fordham Flash from either side

Conventionally that honor belongs to Frankie Frisch, who was inducted in 1947, but you can probably guess a certain screwball pitcher who was inducted that same year!

WAS HUBBELL A SWITCH-HITTER?

A definitive answer to the question may be difficult if not impossible, and the spoiler alert here is that I don’t have it. For one thing, is there even an operational definition of switch-hitter? Casually, we know it means a player who hits from either side of the plate, but is some minimum number of plate appearances or seasons required?

For example, if we found that Hubbell complemented his right-handed hitting with three left-handed plate appearances in 1928, would we declare him a genuine switch-hitter, a switch-hitter for that season only, or a right-handed hitter who hit lefty a few times?

As it turns out, these sorts of questions were tackled at least somewhat by Bob McConnell in his 1973 Baseball Research Journal article “Searching Out the Switch Hitters.”

As a result, I established a set of ground rules to define a switch hitter as follows:

If a player experimented with switch hitting for a short period during a season, he is not considered as a switch hitter.   For example, Chris Speier switch hit for the first four games of the 1972 season with 14 at bats.

He is not considered as a switch hitter.

If a player switch hit for an extended period of time during a season, he is considered as a switch hitter for that season. For example, Jerry Kindall switch hit for the last month of the 1960 season.  He is considered a switch hitter for that season.

And even if we had an answer to that question, is there really any way to know which side of the batter’s box Hubbell used for a particular plate appearance?

For a more modern switch-hitter such as Franciso Lindor, we might turn to Baseball-Reference where his Platoon Splits for 2023 (thru September 13) tell us, for example, that he batted right-handed once off a right-hander and 442 times off a lefty.

We can attempt similar with Carl Hubbell, whose Baseball-Reference career splits are shown below, but there is a problem.

As authentic data do not exist, Baseball-Reference (and its Retrosheet source) simply infer these splits based on Hubbell’s generally accepted status as a right-handed batter. In other words, the reasoning here is circular. The splits show Hubbell as 100% right-handed because the splits assume Hubbell to be 100% right-handed!

OTHER SOURCES

Five potentially errant baseball cards aside, is there any reason to believe Hubbell batted lefty on occasion? Perhaps. Note for example the inset of this newspaper article from 1937. (Source: Valley Morning Star, Harlingen, TX, Mon, January 25, 1937, Page 5.) And while you’re here, enjoy the great picture of Carl as a 6-year-old boy!

Carl Hubbell is a switch hitter, batting from either side of the plate. His father, G.O. Hubbell, knows the secret lying behind this. “He’s always been lefthanded,” the older Hubbell says, “but he always swung a hoe and an axe right handed.”

Later that same year, an article previewing game four of the 1937 World Series indicates Hubbell as a left-handed batter, though no added context is provided. (Hat tip: Cary Smith!)

Whether there are other articles out there eludes my research skills at the moment. What I can say definitively is there are plenty of contemporary sources out there pegging Carl as a purely right-handed hitter. The 1933 Who’s Who guide provides one such example among many.

DID ANYONE EVER ASK THE GUY?

Well, yes, as it turns out. As reported in the SABR Baseball Cards Facebook group, fellow SABR member Lauren Scrafford “asked him about hitting in the early 80’s and he said he always hit right handed to protect his left arm, which was common years ago.”

Still, I have to think there was some reason Carl’s cardboard, including cards produced by his own team, indicated otherwise. At the moment, Mr. Frisch can still rest well as the Hall’s first “turnaround hitter,” but perhaps someday someone somewhere will find a plate appearance or two that adds at least a fun footnote to the Fordham Flash’s feat.

Ten for the Butterfly King: Charlie Hough’s top ten cards

Inspired by the recent Top Ten card countdowns for Steve Garvey and Eric Davis.

Here at the SABR Baseball Card Blog, we never, ever do nuthin’ nice, and easy … we always do it nice, and Hough.

If you collected baseball cards in the ’80s, you collected Charlie Hough. There wasn’t really an option; it just happened. He was as much a part of an American childhood as juice boxes, standardized testing, and the Emergency Broadcast System.

Beneath his bland ubiquity, there was a little bit of spice to Charlie Hough’s baseball journey.

Fate cast him as a shlimazel in some of his biggest career moments. He was touched for Reggie Jax’s third home run in Game Six of the 1977 World Series — part of a career in which he played for three Series-losing teams, but missed out by one season on a winner.

Two outs away from a no-hitter in 1986, he coughed up both the no-no and the game. He surrendered two runs in his only All-Star Game appearance that same season. He led the American League at various times in hits and home runs surrendered, hit batsmen, and wild pitches. He even took the loss in the deciding game of the 1972 Kodak World Baseball Classic.

(You don’t remember the 1972 Kodak World Baseball Classic? As Fela Kuti put it: Who no know, go know.)

But his many positive accomplishments can’t be ignored. Twenty-five major-league seasons and 216 wins? Check. Winner in the first game in Florida Marlins history? Yeah, that was him. A complete-game shutout in the majors at age 46? Bet your favorite pitcher never did that. The first (and thus far only) major-leaguer to make at least 400 starts and at least 400 relief appearances? Aye, cap’n.

Yes, Charlie Hough had a fascinating career. And he had some fascinating baseball cards.

Like these ten:

NUMBER TEN: 1988 Score (#140)

IMG_7006

I remember Mystery Science Theater 3000 making fun of some amateurishly filmed movie by quipping: “Filmed in blue for NightVision!” That’s kinda what this card looks like: There’s some blue, and then there’s some other blue, and the gray is lit in a manner that also makes it look blue. Like those Rangers teams of the ’80s, it’s positively underwater. None more blue.

That said, I happen to like the look of lots of multiple shades of blue. So this card beats out some other deserving candidates — like the simple, dusty follow-through shot on 1984 Topps #118 — for my personal Top Ten.

(It also does justice to Mr. Hough’s longstanding commitment to a good, honest pair of stirrups.)

NUMBER NINE: 1993 Topps Stadium Club (#610)

IMG_7004

Had to get that sweet, sweet early-Marlins teal in here someplace. This is my choice, even if the baggy, wrinkly, and possibly airbrushed jersey makes our guy look considerably heftier than he really was. (Down with the “junkballer = paunchy” narrative!)

This one also scores a point or two for its cluttered back, which includes, in about 1 1/2-point type, the deathless assertion that “Charlie always tries to keep the first batter of the inning off base.” (Bold strategy, my man.)

You’ll also see, wedged in sideways, an unreadable image of the arched-and-loopy 1972 Rookie Stars card that marked Hough’s first appearance on Topps cardboard.

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NUMBER EIGHT: 1987 Topps (#70)

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Everyone else my age adores this set. I am lukewarm on it, and toyed with the idea of leaving this card out, just to be contrarian. But, y’know, it’s a really nice, clean follow-through shot of Charlie Hough on a summer’s day, wearing one of the better Rangers unis of the period, doing his voodoo.

NUMBER SEVEN: 1990 Donruss (#411)

IMG_7002

I like ’90 Donruss more than ’87 Topps. There, I said it. A new decade calls for red backgrounds and swoopy cursive text and paint-spatter. I own at least three of every damn card in this set and I’d still pick up more of them at the right price.

Anyhow, the Nineties are here, the card designs get wild and flashy … but old Charlie just pushes straight on through and keeps chucking the butterflies. We get a good, crisp, well-cropped shot of him delivering here. Other people make the card designs; he gets the outs.

NUMBER SIX: 1982 Fleer (#319)

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The Texas Rangers teams I first became aware of, in the earliest years of the ’80s, were a nondescript clownshow … and while those words have a contradictory ring, the Rangers somehow managed to embody both.

They were miles behind their cross-state rival the Houston Astros in all respects — a losing team in ugly uniforms, playing in an embiggened minor-league park.

But I genuinely like this relic from those years, for three reasons. First, I pulled ’82 Fleer when it was new, and I’m a sucker for the lozenge designs. Second, I adore jerseys over windbreakers.

And third, look at that smile. This man may be in baseball Siberia but he’s not letting it get him down. (He had good reason to be happy: 1982 was his first year as a full-time starter, and he won 16 games, setting his career on a new and different course.)

NUMBER FIVE: 1992 Topps (#191)

IMG_6998

Remember when Charlie Hough pitched for the White Sox? If you don’t, you might want to — this knowledge might serve you well on Immaculate Grid some morning.

Anyway, here’s ol’ Charlie looking all gangsta in one of those black-for-black’s-sake Chisox jerseys. Entre nous, teal was more his color … but this pic makes a change from all those Rangers jerseys. Note, too, that his pants are dirty; presumably he’s been doing some fielding.

NUMBER FOUR: 1980 Topps (#644)

IMG_6999

Aw, shucks,” Charlie seems to be saying in this relic from his last days in Los Angeles. “Sure hope they let me pitch in the majors for another year or two.”

(Even though I know he was born in Hawaii and graduated from high school in Florida, I always assign him an Oklahoma-ish drawl when I look at this photo.)

Despite the touch of apprehension in his eyebrows (and the battering the front of the card has received), this is a nice enough portrait of the man, and a good break from the string of mound photos.

NUMBER THREE: 1986 Topps (#275)

IMG_6997

Ah yes, 1986 Topps, ’87’s blocky, underloved big brother. By this time, Hough was enough of a big man on Mulberry Street to qualify for a card number ending in a five or zero. Good times.

The blue jersey is a nice change of pace, and the minimal blue-and-green background works in an understated way.

But the highlight here is Hough’s delivery: He looks like he’s launching into an elaborate Satchel Paige dipsy-doo windup, just to make some young hitter look extra stupid when he swings from the heels and misses.

NUMBER TWO: 1986 Topps (#666) (\m/ \m/)

IMG_6996

All rise for the Dean of the Rangers, with continuous service since July 11, 1980.

Highlighting the longest-tenured player on a team’s roster is a pretty thoughtful thing to do — especially when said player has spent a bunch of seasons giving his all to mediocre, going-nowhere teams. (In subsequent years, Topps retained the “Leaders” name but didn’t always put the senior player on the front of the card, which seemed like a misstep.)

Your mileage may vary on the mist effect; I quite like it. Used in moderation for a subset, it’s a nice change of pace. Hough is captured at the right moment in his windup, too.

The back of the card lists eight statistical categories for Rangers pitchers. Hough leads in five of them, and is almost certainly among the pitchers tied for the lead in a sixth.

NUMBER ONE: 1993 Topps (#520)

IMG_6995

You’ve probably seen the ads on late-night infomercials, or in the backs of magazines. “For just $75, payable in convenient installments,” some sleazy, ostentatiously dressed pitchman intones, “I’ll send you the secret to my tremendous fame and fortune!”

Well, our pitchman here is Charles Oliver Hough, and there’s nothing sleazy about him. In fact, he’s not even turning a profit.

“Here,” he’s saying. “See my hand? This here is my knuckleball grip. This is how I do it, America. I am showing you the secret to my fame and fortune, for no more investment than the cost of a pack of cards. Go out in the back yard and master this, and you too can pitch in the majors until you’re older than the Vice President of the United States. No down payment, no installments, and you can thank me later.”

Of course, this helpful counsel didn’t save me — or a million other American kids — from the nine-to-five life.

But you can’t blame Charlie Hough. He tried.

(Postscript: The finest Charlie Hough knuckleball-grip card of all time — and perhaps one of the 10 greatest baseball cards of all time — is the one where he’s teaching his secrets to Smokey Bear. It’s not included in this post because I don’t own one, and I thought that was a prerequisite for inclusion. But trust me — you need to see it. Remember: Only you can prevent passed balls.)

Picking Strawberries

It was the summer of 1984 and baseball cards had completely consumed my childhood.

It was a gradual thing, having happened over the last couple seasons. A few of my friends from my Cub Scout den had moved on to Boy Scouts. A couple of us still checked out the comic book racks in convenience stores and might even pick up the occasional interesting looking issue. Some guys were still buying Star Wars or G.I. Joe action figures. But those were all outliers. The vast majority of us had gone all in on baseball cards.

There are several likely reasons for this. Our own maturing, putting away other seemingly childish pursuits. The fact that there was now a legitimate baseball card shop in our town. The explosive growth of the card collecting hobby as a whole. But, looking back, I think one of the biggest reasons was Darryl Eugene Strawberry.

New York Mets outfielder Darryl Strawberry was coming off a Rookie-of-the-Year Award win in 1983 and was taking the Big Apple, and card collecting, by storm. With a catchy name, a boyish enthusiasm for playing and a smile almost as big as his mammoth home runs, Darryl was a natural star and everyone wanted his Rookie Card. At the time the concepts of rookie cards, and speculating on which rookies were going to become bonafide stars, was becoming the rage in the card collecting hobby. Sure there were plenty of rookies to choose from and argue over who was going to be better (some of us were still debating whether Wade Boggs or Ron Kittle was going to be the bigger star out of the previous years issues). But there was no denying that Darryl Strawberry was at the top of the class at the start of the 1984 baseball season.

Darryl had already had a card issued in the 1983 Topps Traded Set.

But you couldn’t find one of those cards in a pack at a store. You had to buy that entire set, from a card dealer.

So to our way of thinking, that was cheating. We wanted a card you could pull from a wax pack, a “real card”. Luckily for us, the 1984 card sets from each of the big three card companies featured a Strawberry rookie card. After 3 seasons with sub-par sets, newcomers Donruss and Fleer had upped the ante and created card sets that seemed almost equal to Topps. And although those 1984 Donruss and Fleer sets would, in time, become classics, Topps had 30 years of experience in cards. Topps cards were the cards our dads, older brothers and older friends all had. As their packaging from the era stated, Topps was “The Real One” so that’s the one most of us gravitated toward.

I grew up in a small town and it being the relative innocence of the 1980s, my friends and I would often strike out on our bikes and ride all over town for most of the day. When we got too hot we’d stop at a convenience store and cool off with a fountain drink and perhaps a video game or two. It was at one of these stops that I noticed a store clerk putting fresh wax boxes of 1984 Topps out on the shelves. I decided I’d forgo the video games this time and grab a pack. For some reason, as I stared at the newly opened box, I reached down and grabbed the bottom pack from the lower left stack.

I got outside and opened the pack to reveal a Darryl Strawberry rookie about 4 cards in. It was my first year of actively trying to complete the entire Topps set and I knew I needed it for my set so I was beside myself to put it mildly.

A few days later we stopped into another convenience store on the other side of town and there I found a new box of 1984 Topps with no missing packs. I figured I’d try my luck and again grabbed the bottom pack from the lower left stack. And once again, there was a Strawberry rookie card a few cards in. One of my friends mentioned that Mr. Lewis, the owner of the local card shop, was selling his Topps Strawberry RCs for $5 and would pay $2 for them. The shop was only a couple blocks away and since I already had one for my set, I went over and made a quick $1.50. I told Mr. Lewis about my newly discovered secret and he laughed and offered to let me test it out again, free of charge. He went into the back and got a fresh wax box out of a case and allowed me to open the bottom pack from the lower left stack. There, a few cards in, was another Strawberry rookie card! Since he hadn’t charged me for the pack, he said he’d just give me a dollar for the Strawberry and I could keep the other cards.

Throughout the rest of that summer I tried “The Strawberry Trick” several more times and managed to pull 4 more Strawberry rookie cards. Once I completely amazed a younger cousin by “telling his fortune” and ensuring him he was going to get a Strawberry rookie card in his pack while on a family beach trip. I tried pulling the same pack the next season in hopes of getting a Doc Gooden or Roger Clemens RC, but to no avail.

In the ensuing years there have been many times I’ve been at card shows and come upon unopened 1984 Topps wax boxes. Occasionally I’ve been tempted to, for old time’s sake, try “The Strawberry Trick” but I never do. Some things are better left to childhood.

Steve Garvey’s top ten baseball cards

Having greatly enjoyed Lou Moore’s recent Eric Davis countdown, I decided to get in on the action as well. Growing up in 1970s Los Angeles, there was never really a question or a choice when it came to my favorite player. Steve Garvey was Dodger baseball. Really, he was even bigger than that. He was God, country, and apple pie. He was Baseball itself.

The truth is Steve Garvey was my favorite player before I’d ever seen a ballgame, held a bat, or carried around his cards in my pocket. If you grew up when I did and grew up where I did, you loved Steve Garvey. That’s all there was to it.

NUMBER TEN: 1981 Topps #530

While this card lacks the majestic swing of the 1978 Reggie and features one of the more boring designs of the decade, the 1981 Topps Steve Garvey will always be special to me for what back then was not a silly reason: I was the first in my class to pull the card. This made the card—and by extension, me!—a really big deal, at least until someone else got one also.

Just how big was it to pull the first Garvey of the year? The trade offers that came in will give you some idea:

  • “I’ll trade you all my doubles in my whole collection!”
  • “I’ll give you [empties pocket] $2.13 for it!”
  • “Would you trade it for my brother’s 1976 Hank Aaron?”

And of course every single offer was turned down.

NUMBER NINE: 1981 Perma-Graphics Superstar Credit Cards #012

I feel a bit lazy going back-to-back with the same image here, and do I even mention the hideous Dodgers wordmark? Still, this was 1981 when credit cards were brand new on the scene, at least in my family. With my mom suddenly carrying around a Diner’s Club and Master Charge in her purse, it was only right that I had my own form of plastic purchasing power. True, not all merchants accepted Perma-Graphics, but that was on them, not me.

NUMBER EIGHT: 1981 LAPD Dodgers

What, 1981 again?! Hey, it is what it is. Consider this card a stand-in for the entire run of early 1980s Dodger sets distributed by L.A.’s finest. I chose this one because Steve in the photo is doing exactly what I did every time I saw a cop car or motorcycle. In my case I wasn’t charging a bunt or hustling into the dugout. Nope, I was chasing down law enforcement to accost them over matters truly urgent: “Can I please have some baseball cards?”

NUMBER SEVEN: 1993 Action Packed #64

Buried far underneath the heaping detritus of the junk wax era are some utter gems, the 1993 Action Packed set being one of them. The embossed manufacturing process adds a true third dimension to the cards, which also bear a unique and sturdy construction as if hewn from some scarce but perfect cardboard-metal alloy. Now add an action shot, black borders, gold foil, and ding-less corners, and you’ve got a helluva card!

NUMBER SIX: 1974 Topps #575

There are a lot of reasons to love this card. Historically, 1974 was Garvey’s breakout year. He was league MVP, All-Star Game MVP (as a write-in!), and a Gold Glove winner on a Dodger team that won their first pennant since Sandy Koufax. The landscape format, which Topps used sparingly in 1974, also added a dimension of awesome. Mostly though, I’m drawn to (and perhaps scared of) the ghoulish faces in the background. (Also see Dave Kingman.) Who needs a Rembrandt when cards like this are in the binder?

NUMBER FIVE: 1982 Donruss #3 “Diamond King”

I love Diamond Kings, I love Dick Perez, and I love Steve Garvey. ‘Nuff said.

NUMBER FOUR: 2016 TOPPS THROWBACK THURSDAY #35

This Garvey card was part of a five-card set that featured two-time ASG MVP winners. The set’s other cards are of Willie Mays, Gary Carter, Cal Ripken, and Mike Trout. Personally I think the use of the 1975 Topps MVP subset design here was an absolute stroke of genius, and it sure doesn’t hurt that the two cards featured (1974, 1978) are two of Garv’s best.

NUMBER THREE: 1982 DONRUSS #84

I’m not sure anyone’s a huge fan of the 1982 Donruss design, and I’m not here to pretend it’s something it isn’t. What I will say is the set’s Garvey card features my all-time favorite photo of Mr. Clean. Has anyone ever wore the Dodger uniform with more pride than Steve Garvey? And even if, did they accessorize it with a patriotic sweatband?

NUMBER TWO: 1971 O-PEE-CHEE #341

It’s hard to follow my friend and neighbor Mike O’Reilly and not fall in love with the 1971 O-Pee-Chee backs. In the case of Garvey, the card is doubly fun in that it’s his rookie card as well. Just look at his fiche comme frappeur dans les majeures! Who would have guessed back then this debutant would develop into a ten-time all-star and lead his teams to five National League pennants between 1974 and 1984?

NUMBER ONE: 1978 TOPPS #350

Here it is. My very first Steve Garvey. Aesthetically there is a lot to enjoy here: the All-Star shield, the red “color match” border, and the purple “Dodgers” script that even a third grader recognized as what you get when you mix Garvey’s uniform number with his cap.

More importantly, this card was cred. Here I was the “new kid” at a brand new school, doing my best to make friends and fit in. I’d made a few friends but never totally felt like I belonged until I pulled this card from a pack. One could be kind, smart, or funny but at the end of the day Steve Garvey cards were the true currency of cool.

This card was confidence. This card was friendships. This card, to third grade me, was everything. So yeah, damn right I cried when it went through the washer and dryer! 🤣