There are nearly to six decades of Topps All-Star Rookie Cup awards which means there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 600 cards in the history of the subset.
This raises the question why among all these cards does Gary Carter get the honor of his own posting on the SABR Baseball Card Blog. Well there are many reasons, but lets start with he is a Hall of Famer and…..well, I enjoy over-analyzing cards.
Over-Analysis Part 1: the Card
1976 Topps #441 Gary Carter
We have a fine photo of young Gary Carter in a classic baseball card pose. The distinctive characteristic of 1976 Topps is the position illustration seen here on the bottom left. It is a nice accent to the sets otherwise minimalist approach. On the cards other lower corner we find the reason we are here, the All-Star Rookie Cup icon. This is the second iteration of the cup, just a cup, no top hat and no batter atop that hat.
As we look a little closer the card there are a few other things I found interesting.
2) Game Dated Card?
Yes I think we have enough info here to give a time & place for this photo.
Fortunately for us the Expos wore their numbers on the front of their uniform in this era. Notice that Carter is not wearing the familiar #8, which he donned for most of his career and was later retired by the Expos/Nationals. According to Baseball-Ref for a brief period as a September call up in 1974 Gary Carter wore #57 – which looks to be the number we have here. Looking at the background on the photo it appears we are at Wrigley Field.
Turning to Carter’s 1974 Game Logs we find that he played three games across two days in Chicago. There first was the latter game of a double header on September 24th which the Expos won 11-2. The following day featured yet another double header which the Expos swept 7-1, 3-2. There is plenty of fascinating things to find in those boxes but for our limited time and space it is most important that we note that our hero went 4 for 11 with a triple and 3 RBIs in the three victories. In the last game Carter made one of his 132 appearances in Right Field (who knew). Across both double headers the 90+ Loss 1974 Cubs would draw less than 5000 fans COMBINED.
I have one dilemma with the game dating. The field is set up for batting practice. I can’t imagine the Expos had BP on the day of a double header. Perhaps these pictures are from Monday September 23 prior to a postponed game that lead to the consecutive double headers. Regardless the evidence points to one of three dates for the Photo September 23, 24 or 25 of 1974.
3) The Trophy
By Trophy I mean the real trophy not the icon on the card
Yep thanks to Heritage Auctions we have an image of a real life Topps All-Star Rookie Cup Trophy. To me this is a big deal outside of Carter’s trophy, I have only seen images of a few others Dick Allen, Tony Oliva, and Tommy Harper. Never seen one in the wild.
The Gary Carter Cup sold in November of 2016 for just under $1,800. According to the Heritage Auction website the owner of the trophy is entertaining offers for the trophy.
3b) But wait there is another Trophy!!
Topps also gives out a AAA version of the award.
And in 1974 Gary Carter won that award as well.
No over-analysis of a card is complete without flipping the card over.
Check the cartoon here which discusses the defense of the 1964 Orioles. Apparently this is a positive superlative. I was to lazy to confirm that the 95 errors was a record for fewest by at team (at the time), However I will note that in 1964 the second best team was the Yankees who committed 109.
This leads us to a brief point about baseball changing. In 2018 the MLB average for errors for a team was 93. That is 2 miscues less than the number that Orioles led the league with in 1964. The league average was 142 in 1964.
5) Gary Carter the collector
Finally one of my favorite fun facts about Gary Carter is he was also a card collector. As fans we learned this from a different card:
Check out the latter cartoon. I am thinking of putting this in the banner to my Twitter Feed.
If you don’t believe Topps we also have this photographic evidence.
Check out all those binders!!
And yes He is holding the card that is the subject of our posting:
If you came here for information on the Pokemon cards of Meloetta, click here. If you came here for information on the Indiana town of Mellott, click here. This article is about the retired baseball player Mel Ott (disambiguation).
While my “modern collection” consists solely of a Dwight Gooden binder and about 10 other cards, I was thrilled to add this to my collection. Not having actively collected or even really looked much at Heritage or Archives, the anachronisms of the concept still mess with me in a fun way.
When I look at the photograph I don’t see 2019. I see 1929.
When I look at the card design (but not too closely) I don’t see 2019. I see 1975.
Then again, the last line of stats is from 1947, which better suggests a 1948 issue than a 2019. (And yes, there is such a thing as 1948 Topps.)
Finally, take a look at the trivia question and you’d have to date the card sometime after September 3, 2000. (By the way, someone needs to write a SABR Games Project article on this game!)
I haven’t looked at any other Archives cards of all-time greats, but I hope they’re all this chronologically ambiguous. Part 1929, part 1948, part 1975, part 2001, but ultimately 2019…
This Mel Ott is hard to date!
But is that all I got? Just another run-of-the-Mel “new cards are confusing” article? What every reader Ott to know by now is that is that it ain’t over ’til I run out of bad puns. Seriously. Would a “groan man” kid? By the time I’m done here there will be so much melottery tomfoolery you’ll feel like you won the #MELottery!
The second half of our story comes from a practice I recommend highly to any collector wanting to turn a few moments appreciation of a card into the destruction of an entire weekend. Yes, I’m talking about tracking down the source image in print.
Getty dated the photograph as from March 1, 1929, and included a caption that was either psychic or not used until several months later. (Also see RMY Auction archive for same result.)
“The Giants’ baby home run slugger…Here is another new photograph of Melvin Ott, 20-year-old outfielder of the N.Y. Giants, who has stepped to the fore as one of the leading home run busters of the National League. On July 15th, Chuck Klein took the lead leadership at 25, by hitting three over the fence, but Ott is right behind him with 25 to his credit.”
Now this is exactly what I bought my newspapers.com subscription for. Could I find the home run buster’s baseball card photo in an actual newspaper? As it turns out, I could not. Still, I found some pretty good stuff.
In the days after Chuck Klein put three over the fence in a doubleheader, no fewer than 43 sports pages from around the country sought to reassure readers that the Giants wunderkind in pursuit of the Philadelphia slugger did indeed like women!
This lengthy caption was provided along with the headline and non sequitur photo collage…
While some papers, but not all, included an actual article, in which Ott proclaimed himself 100% masher, 0% mashee.
Ott’s first person protests aside, the article would have us believe that Master Melvin is “misunderstood girl-wise,” “flees at the sight of a girl,” and “is afraid of women.” In other words, he was me in high school but handsome and good at sports.
Like I said, this Mel Ott is hard to date!
Lest you wonder if the mash notes simply piled up in vain, this October 23, 1930, article from The Town Talk (Alexandria, LA) should settle the matter.
So there you have it: the bashful young slugger is now married–and to a playmate no less! I have to imagine this Mel Ott would have been really hard to date!
extra for experts
I know among our readership we have some historians and SABR high rollers who are no doubt aware that Master Melvin died at the age of 49 following injuries from a car accident. If you find yourself in the New Orleans area, his memorial at Metairie Cemetery is hard to miss and is even visible from the interstate. Here is a pic I took on my first trip home with my fiancee.
So yes, our handsome slugger has gone from just under six feet to just six feet under, and I know some of you are just waiting for me to go there…
But is this Mel Ott hard to date? Common sense, if not common decency, would dictate so, but I checked the internet site “Who’s Dating Who?” (sorry, English teachers) just to be certain.
We started this post trying to figure out what the hell year it was. Well now, if bot-generated personal ads for dead guys ain’t peak 2019, I don’t know what is!
There is something magical to me about Ralph Garr. He had some stellar years, hitting .300 and above when that was valued, and stealing some bases, when that mattered too. WAR isn’t kind to him, though he did have 5+ WAR in 1971 and 1974 (when he led the NL in BA). And he wore White Sox shorts.
I liked Ralph Garr, enough to send him a letter almost a half-century ago (!), and enough to make my first purchase from Signatures for Soldiers, a 501(c3) that raises money for disabled vets. I know of them via Twitter – @Sig4Soldiers – and watch their Tweets, but it was “The Roadrunner” that made me take the plunge with my first order. It won’t be my last. Check them out.
They had lots of Garrs, from different years and manufacturers, but I went for a 1973 Topps. I am in awe of those of you out there who collect signed complete sets. I can’t quite imagine the effort that takes. I have a small, slowly growing, collection of 1973 signed cards, so ol’ Ralph fit right in.
I may keep adding to this little group of 13, if I find more and the price is right, but I’ll never go for a complete set and, really, there can’t be one. If you ever see an autographed copy of this card, run!
Name, Team, Position. Those are the three most standard pieces of information conveyed on the obverse of a baseball card. Of the three, position is the one that is most often left out. While it is certainly isn’t hard to find examples of cards not bearing the name or team on the frontside, position is the only piece of this trio that feels kind of optional. Player positions were included on many of the earliest cards sets ever issued and remained a staple of card design until the fabled T206 set – which listed a player’s name and team home city only – seemed to put the designation out of style. Over the next few decades, many of the most iconic sets – Goudey, Cracker Jack, Leaf – ignored the position as an element of design. Bowman hit the scene in 1948 and went even more minimalist, rarely going so far as to even include the player’s name on the front of the card.
But then Topps took over, aside from their 1951 and 1952 issues, included a position on the front of each of their sets until 1972, and again for each set between 1973 and 1986. The indicator vanished between 1987 and 1990 and was an on-and-off feature until 2014, when it returned for seven straight sets (including 2020) – Topps’ longest run of position-indicating since the 1980s. Donruss included a position on every one of its designs until 1998 and Fleer did the same, using the indicator on every flagship set the brand issued. Upper Deck ignored the position on just two of its flagship sets (1992 and 2004).
This is not information that most collectors would have at the ready. Most collectors probably take the position bug for granted. I know I usually do. But being so ubiquitous (even in its absence), an unusual position indicator can make for a pretty memorable card. Herb Washington’s 1975 “Pinch Run.” is probably the most famous of these. But there are others that I recall standing out to me as a kid – Pete Rose cards where he was listed an “MGR-1B” seemed other-worldly, the 1990 Score John Olerud listed him as an “OF-P” (all while shown playing first base) made him seem like some kind of top-secret government project, and the 1989 Topps Kirk Gibson All Star that listed him as a “PH” was as jarring as it was confusing (this was done, I assume to give the NL team a DH player without using the league-inappropriate term).
A particular player’s position listing can also convey some emotion. Robin Yount listed as a shortstop or George Brett as a third baseman make them seem as though they’ll be young forever. But finding Reggie Jackson or Henry Aaron or Dave Winfield listed as a DH will bring a note of sadness that the end is near.
But of all the weird positional quirks that have happened over the years, there is nothing so fascinating to me as what happened with Paul Molitor in 1991. That was the year the versatile Brewer was listed at FIVE different positions on various cards and appeared with SEVEN different position indicators. This is, I believe, the greatest positional variety for a player in a single year ever (ignoring THIS, of course). So what happened here?
Well, Paul Molitor had historically been a trick player to pin down position-wise. He came up as a shortstop, getting his first change in the bigs when Robin Yount left the Brewers during Spring Training 1978. He only played 33 games at short that season, but it was enough to have him listed as a pure SS on his 1979 card. He played 10 games at short in 1979 and 12 in 1980, but maintained a dual listed as an “SS-2B” on Topps 1980 and 1981 issues. After spending all of 1981 in the outfield, Topps gave him the rare “2B-SS-OF” listing on his 1982 card. Molly moved to third base in 1982, and played there primarily for most of the next five years. Topps reacted in kind and listed his as either a 3B or 3B/DH through the end of the decade.
Donruss and Fleer, entering the market in 1981, both listed him as a 2B in their debut sets. Fleer gave him a pure (and accurate) OF tag in 1982, whereas Donruss went with the very broad “OF/IF” brand. Both brands followed suit with Topps and used 3B and DH marks exclusively through 1990. Upper Deck and Score did the same.
But Molitor had returned to his utility player roots by the late 1980s. He appeared in 19 games at second base in 1987 and 16 in 1989. Late in 1989, regular second-sacker Jim Gantner suffered a devastating knee injury on a wipe-out slide by the Yankees Marcus Lawton and Molitor took over regular duty at the position until Gantner was able to return mid-way through the 1990 season. Molitor, who suffered a number of injuries of his own that season, ended up playing 60 games at second base in ‘90, 37 at first base (the first time he’d manned that spot), and a handful at third and as a DH. Gantner ended the season as the regular second baseman and Molitor at prime man at first. After the season, the Brewers traded Dave Parker, who had been an All Star for them in 1990, opening the door for the now-34 year old Molitor to become the team’s regular DH for the first time.
So, the long-time third baseman who had been playing second but was also being used at first, where he was now expected to see more time when he wasn’t DHing. Got all that? Card makers sure did.
By my count, Molitor appeared on 21 different base cards in 1991 (I’m ignoring sets like Topps Micro and OPC here that merely reproduce other sets). All but Classic listed a position on their cards. He was most commonly listed at 3B, a dubious claim considering he’d only played two games there in 1990. But strong is the power of tradition. Topps listed him there, using that mark on the Bowman, Stadium Club, and OPC Premium sets as well. Fleer also considered him a 3B, as they had at least in part since 1983. Even Score listed him at the position, despite taking the rather bold stance of being the only card maker to declare him a pure DH on a 1980s issue (1988). Those two games in ’90 got a lot of mileage, I guess.
Five cards listed him at 1B, a nice compromise between his audition there in 1990 and his projected role in 1991. Magazine cards were fond of this mark, as Baseball Cards Magazine, Sports Collectors Digest, and Sports Illustrated for Kids all used it on their in-mag cards, as did Donruss and (curiously) Fleer Ultra, which ran against the flagship’s opinion that Molitor was still a 3B.
Three cards gave him a generic IF designation: two Brewers-issued sets (which used the frustrating device of considering anyone who played in the infield an IF) and the Score Superstars stand-alone set, which also broke with its parent brand and made its own positional distinction.
A pair of sets were forward-looking enough to list Molitor as a pure DH, Leaf and Studio. I recall these as later-year issues and were probably a reaction to Molitor’s role early on the 1991 season, in which he only appeared in the field once before late May.
Then, we have some true outliers. Upper Deck, showing that rebel streak that remade the hobby, boldly listed Molitor as a 2B in their set, and even used a photo of him playing the position. The semi-obscure Petro Canada Standup set also listed him as a 2B, but you had to actually stand the card up to discover this fact. Panini, in its sticker set, was the only brand to use a hybrid mark, listing Molitor was a “1B-2B,” his only 1991 card to accurately reflect upon his 1990 season.
And then there is 1991 US Playing Card set. In here, Molitor (as the Eight of Hearts) is listed as a centerfielder.
At this time, Molitor hadn’t played the outfield since a handful of games in 1986 and hadn’t been in center since 1981. Were they boldly expecting Molitor to take over in center for Robin Yount in 1991? My guess is that this is probably just an outright error. None of the other outfielder cards in the deck are given a specific OF spot (LF, CF, RF), and I can’t find anything that indicated they were acting on some of weird rumor of an unexpected position change. But nonetheless, the card exists and only adds to the positional confusion.
Oddly enough, all this positioning and repositioning for Molitor quickly became a moot point. Following the end of the 1990 season, Molitor would play first base and DH exclusively. His cards reflected this. For the most part. For 1992, Topps again branded him at a 3B across most of its sets despite his not having played there regularly since 1989. And, not to be outdone by their 1991 goof, the US Playing Card company issued two decks with Molitor cards in 1992 – one listing him at 2B and the other at SS – where Molitor hadn’t appeared since 1982 (his 1993 USPC card has him mercifully listed as an IF). At least it’s a consistent decade-long lag time, right? For 1993, only the Post Cereal Company still listed him at 3B. Card makers had finally accepted him for what had become – a DH and part-time 1B.
For his career, Molitor was listed on cards as a 1B, 2B, SS, 3B, IF, OF, CF, DH, 1B/DH, 2B/SS/OF, 2B/SS, SS/2B, 3B/DH, OF/IF, DH/1B, and DH/3B – not to mention post-career cards as a coach and manager. That’s 18 different listings (and perhaps more that I have missed) to describe a single remarkable career.
Jim Bouton died last Wednesday after a long battle with the effects of a 2012 stroke. He was 80.
As you have likely read over the past week, Bouton meant a lot to a lot of people. I was one. Our paths crossed a few times, but his importance is always going to be about his book.
My first run-in with Jim Bouton was with his 1968 Topps card, pictured up top. I was seven that summer and my card collection was limited by my meager finances. But when the final series came out in August I must have had nickels bursting out of my pockets, because I ended up with dozens (says my memory) of this card (#562).
I had no interest in doubles even then (I would have gladly traded you my extra Henry Aaron if you had Dick Dietz), but, let’s be real, who was Jim Bouton anyway? I knew nothing of baseball prior to … maybe a year earlier? He was not in the Yankee box scores or in the Yankee games I was able to watch — because (I later learned) in June he had been demoted to the minor leagues (which might as well have been Mars). He was a minor leaguer?
Bouton had been a star a few years before, but whatever. I remember watching Eddie Mathews pinch hit in the 1968 World Series and being flabbergasted that the announcers claimed he used to be a good player. This guy?
So anyway, I suspect that one or two of the 1968 Bouton cards ended up in my bicycle spokes at some point. He would never appear on a Topps card again.
The next year Topps — who gave absolutely everyone a card — did not give one to Bouton, who in March was a non-roster invitee by the expansion Seattle Pilots.
Topps gave a card to Fred Newman, who had not pitched in the majors in 1968 and threw just six innings in 1967. He was a spring training invite for the Red Sox, and quickly released, but Topps gave him a Red Sox card anyway. He never pitched in the majors again.
Let me be clear: none of this is meant to criticize Topps. Card selection was a tricky business, with multiple series allowing for delaying identifying the last series or two until April. What I love about Topps cards in this era is that they tried to include everyone, even guys who (with the benefit of hindsight) seem like extreme long shots to play, so it looks wrong when someone is missing. Most of the 1969 set was printed before the Pilots even got to camp, and Topps made an educated guess that of the dozens of available options Bouton did not warrant a late series card. His brief demotion to Triple-A in April might have sealed the deal.
In 1969 Bouton pitched for the expansion Pilots and then the Astros. I watched a handful of Red Sox – Pilots games, and I am sure I saw Bouton a few times. But he was just a guy in the bullpen, the guy whose 1968 cards were spread all over my room. I gave him little thought.
Although Bouton pitched essentially the entire season in the majors in 1969, he again did not get a Topps card in 1970. This case seems particularly odd, and makes one wonder if he had an issue with Topps. He was a strong union guy, but the union had settled their Topps dispute in late 1968, which is why the 1970 set is so spectacular. A mystery, to me at least.
He pitched briefly (and mostly poorly) that year before again being exiled to the minors, but 1970 ended up being the most pivotal year of his life. His book — Ball Four — came out and caused quite a stir, and his cards would never be commons again. Forgive me, 1968 Bouton card — I didn’t mean it!
I was an early devotee of his book, reading it age 10 and then reading it continually thereafter. The baseball, the humor, the writing, the politics, the self-doubt — there is something on every page. But enough self-examination …
I didn’t really start buying older cards (cards issued prior to my collecting) until I was in high school and especially college. I picked up a few Bouton cards when I ran into them. And I kept up on all things Bouton — his other books, his occasional magazine article, his comebacks in the minors (and briefly, the Braves). You can read all about it in other places, I am sure.
Early in my sophomore year, Bouton came to my college (Rensselear, in Troy NY) to speak. I had not packed Ball Four with me that year (I would never make that mistake again), but I did have a few of his cards in my dorm room. Bouton signed my 1964 card, and it remains the only baseball card I have ever asked anyone to sign. (I have received a few signed cards over the years from friends.)
It has been said that once a player’s career is over and time fades, he is judged by his statistical record. This is not true of Bouton, who finished 62–63 (albeit with great seasons, World Series heroics, and historic comebacks mixed in) but who retained his fame and remained newsworthy until the very end of his life.
My point, and I have a point: collect his cards. They are fairly inexpensive for 50-year-old cards, and it’s Jim Bouton for heaven’s sake. If you collect cards from the 1960s, by all means you should look for Mays, Clemente, Aaron, Mantle, Koufax, just like everyone else, but save a few dollars for The Bulldog. (And Curt Flood.)
My collection is 100% about the history, and very few people are a more important part of the baseball story than James Alan Bouton. There will be never be another like him.
Mickey Mantle was the quintessential “baby boomer” icon in
post-war America. His good looks,
athleticism and strength personified the American concept of
exceptionalism. “The Mick” was the
ultimate hero for the white American male, who controlled all the levers of
power. It is not a stretch to state that
Don Drysdale was the pitcher who complemented the slugger.
To commemorate the SABR Baseball Committee’s 400th blog post, members were tasked with coming up with a post that tied in the number 400. In 1969, Topps assigned Drysdale card number 400 in the set. Many of you know that Topps gave superstar players the “hundred” numbers. The card turned out to be Don’s last regular issue card. This post celebrates our blog’s milestone by examining the Big D’s cardboard legacy.
Most of you remember that 1968 was a record-breaking year for Don-while 1969 had a tragic ending. 1968 saw him set the record for consecutive scoreless innings with 58-2/3 (since broken by Orel Hershiser with 59 in 1988). Unfortunately, starting 35 or more games for nine straight seasons finally caught up to Drysdale. Ongoing shoulder issues culminated with a diagnosis of a torn rotator cuff. After 12 starts in 1969, Don was forced to retire.
Standing 6’3’ and weighing 190, Don was a prime physical specimen and the epitome of the sun-splashed, California athlete. Being handsome, well-spoken and playing in Los Angeles resulted in advertisement opportunities and TV appearances. People of a certain age remember the Big D as a guest on “The Donna Reed Show,” “Leave it to Beaver,” “Beverly Hillbillies” and the “Brady Bunch.” The alliteration of the double D’s in his name contributed his recognition in and out of baseball.
My favorite Drysdale card was issued in 1967. The posed, follow through shot at Shea
Stadium exudes confidence and command.
Don had mid-century America by the horns, and he knew it.
The early cards depict a young man still developing into a prime athlete. Drysdale’s first Topps card in 1957 shows him with the Brooklyn “B” in the “Bums” last season in Ebbets Field. The shift to LA in 1958 results in an airbrushed “LA” on the cap. The Hires Root Beer card from that year makes him look rather cherubic.
1959 and 1960 are great, mostly due to the backdrop of the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. The massive football stadium-turned ballpark is certainly distinctive.
Drysdale shows up on specialty cards as well. In 1959, Don joins teammates Johnny Podres and Clem Labine on a cool, multi-player card captioned: “Hitters Foes.” Podres is back in 1963, but this time Drysdale’s fellow superstar teammate, Sandy Koufax, joins him on the card titled: “Dodgers Big Three.” Additionally, Drysdale has 1960 and 1962 All-Star cards and is on numerous league leaders.
Fleer attempted to break the Topps monopoly in 1963. Topps successfully sued to stop future production, but Fleer managed to put out at least a portion of its set. Don plays in “both ends of a double dip,” showing up in both sets.
Topps chose Don to represent the Dodgers in the 1967 poster
insert and the 1968 large posters, which were sold individually, one per
pack. Both are excellent photos and the
designs are superb in their simplicity.
As one of baseball’s top stars, Don is featured in every Topps insert or test issue set. He shows up on Bazooka boxes, Post Cereal, Salada coins and many other oddball sets.
Receiving a “hundred” number in a Topps series in 1960s was to be recognized as a true icon. Don is a man certainly worthy of our 400th post. I’ll leave you with a photo of my Drysdale shrine in my memorabilia room.
To learn all there is to know about Don Drysdale, I highly recommend Joseph Wancho’s BioProject entry.
For those of us whose minds tend to gravitate toward the obscure and trivial, baseball cards can serve as a stimulate for this brain disorder. For example, the magic mushroom that sent me falling down the rabbit hole recently was a 1961 Seattle Rainiers’ popcorn card of Ted Schreiber.
I’ve had the card for several years, but recently purchased an off grade 8×10 glossy of the same photo as appears on the card. Curious to know more about Mr. Schreiber, I sought out online information on the infielder. Of course, it didn’t take the “men from to chessboard to tell me where to go.”
Since I couldn’t “go ask Alice,” The SABR Bioproject was my destination. Bioproject is an invaluable resource. The forgotten and obscure players are given the same scholarly treatment as the all-time greats. Mr. Rory Costello’s biography of Schreiber is well written and provides some surprising information. After reading it, I felt like I was “given the call” to tell you about Mr. Schreiber, aided by a look at his few, but wonderful, cards. By the way, Topps never issued a card for him.
Though no “Red Queen” ever tried to “off” Schreiber’s head, he did make “off” from his Brooklyn home in the late 1950’s destined for Queens-where he donned the “red” of the St.John’s Redmen. Ted played basketball for legendary coach Joe Lapchick and baseball for long-time coach, Jack Kaiser. Since my son graduated from St. John’s, I’ve developed an interest in the school’s sports history. This connection heightened my interest in Schreiber’s story.
Mr. Costello’s biography provided a great piece of trivia. Ted hit two home runs at Ebbets Field in 1959. Turns out, St. John’s played three home games there against Manhattan College.
Schrieber’s exploits on the diamond for the Redmen drew the attention of scout Frank “Bots” Nakola. If your “mind is moving low” and this name doesn’t ring a bell, he is the Red Sox scout who signed Yaz, Rico Petrocelli and Chuck Schilling out of the New York area. After a workout at Fenway Park, Ted signed with Boston.
In 1961 and 1962, Ted played in Seattle-the Red Sox AAA affiliate in the Pacific Coast League. From 1954 to 1968, the Rainiers/Angels issued smallish, glossy cards in boxes of popcorn. For reasons unknown, there are two variations of Schreiber cards in both 1961 and 1962. The 1961 “action” card misspelled Ted’s name. If you want to know more about popcorn cards, here are links to my previous posts
During the off season, the Mets selected Schreiber in the Rule 5 draft. Since his route to Boston was blocked by second sacker, Chuck Schilling, this was a good break for Ted. However, Ron Hunt won the starting job at second base for the Mets. As a bench player Schreiber appeared in only 39 games, but he did take center stage in a piece of Mets history.
On September 26, 1963, Ted pinch hit for his old St. John’s teammate, Larry Bearnath. He promptly hit into a game ending double play, thus making the last out in the history of the Polo Grounds. Though Topps never produced a card for Schreiber, there is a team issued photo from 1963.
Returning to the minors in 1964, Schreiber would never make back to the “show.” His one year in the “bigs” secured a card in Larry Fritsch’s 1983 “One Year Wonders” set. Also, Ted shows up in the 1966 Elder Postcards, 1976 SSPC set commemorating the ’63 Mets and in the 1971 “Wiz” Mets set.
Since “logic and proportion has fallen sloppy dead,” and you would rather hear “the White Knight talking backwards” than continue with me chasing rabbits, I will stop. But remember what the Bobby “Doerr-mouse” said: “Feed your head” with Bioproject.