As noted previously, I can barely keep up with, much less collect, all the post-career cards of my favorite players. I can’t even say I window shop. However, there are occasions where certain cards unexpectedly but decidedly grab me. Such was the case when I ran across this gem from the 2010 Topps Heritage set.
See, here’s the thing. The 1961 Topps “Baseball Thrills” cards on which this Robinson is based is one of my favorite Topps subsets ever. Flip through this ten-card collection and you’re not just treated to some gorgeous cardboard; you’re also reminded of some of the most amazing feats in baseball history. (Okay, small quibble. I wouldn’t have gone with “GEHRIG BENCHED…” as my headline for his amazing consecutive games streak.)
As for the Topps reboot nearly 40 years later (or nearly 60 years later if I go by when I learned about it), I have to say I am 100% impressed.
Let’s start with the five cards that are more or less clones of the originals, give or take a Heritage watermark and the need to rebrand the National League as N.L.TM on the Hornsby card.
At first I was disappointed to see these spots on the checklist wasted. However, that was before I realized that most pack-openers in 2010 would not have had the originals in their collections and very likely wouldn’t have even seen them before. If we’re looking to tell the story of baseball, circa 1900-1960, it’s hard to imagine doing so without Ruth, Hornsby, Gehrig, Mathewson, and Johnson. Besides, the new versions are a helluva lot cheaper than the old ones, and let’s just acknowledge here that cheap thrills are sure better than none at all!
With three of the other cards in the set, Topps simply filled in other highlights of that time period that would have been right at home in the original set, at least mostly so. I say “mostly” due to the sabermetrically pleasing but nonetheless anachronistic hit total on the Cobb card.
The Mantle card in the 2010 set warrants a special look alongside its 1961 predecessor.
On one hand, one of Mantle’s least satisfying cards (or if you prefer, Griffith Stadium’s best card) is replaced with a Mickey Mantle card that among other things includes a picture of Mickey Mantle. On the other hand, the “new and improved” clashes artistically with the rest of the cards, making it the one card in the 2010 edition I wish Topps had a do-over on.
But the Jackie card? This is utter perfection in my book, so much so that I’ll gladly show it again!
Note: It’s NOT your imagination if that image looks familiar to you. Here it is 60 years earlier.
Of course, beyond being a great looking card, the Robinson also sets the record straight. A listing of baseball’s greatest achievements (1900-1960 or so) that omits the breaking of the color barrier is an incomplete list indeed. I’m not sure what prompted Topps to omit it in 1961, but my Jackie Robinson collection thanks Topps for at least getting it right in 2010.
That said, neither the original set nor the reboot included what I grew up believing (from books and broadcasts less than independent thought) to be the greatest feat of them all. Rather than send this article on a massive detour, I’ll save that topic for a Part Two.
In case you missed it because of the holidays, the Hall of Fame announced last month that Ken “The Hawk” Harrelson, the former major league ballplayer and professional golfer, was selected as the recipient of the 2020 Ford C. Frick Award. The Award is given out annually for excellence in broadcasting.
The flamboyant Harrleson started his broadcasting career with the Boston Red Sox back in 1975. He left the Boston booth after six years and joined the Chicago White Sox broadcasting team in 1981. He was a fixture in the White Sox booth for 33 years. However, those years were not continuous as he did a couple of short stints as the White Sox general manager (end of 1985 to 1986) and then a broadcaster for the Evil Empire (1987). He retired at the end of the 2018 season.
The announcement on December 11th brought back memories of my brief encounter with “The Hawk” back in the summer of 1968.
In August of 1967 a bidding war for the Hawk ensued after he was placed on irrevocable waivers by Charlie “Cheapskate” Finley for calling the impulsive A’s owner “a disgrace to baseball” after Charlie O fired Alvin Dark, the A’s manager. The boneheaded move by Finley turned Hawk into a free agent. After mulling over multiple offers, he agreed to join the Red Sox for $150,000 (he was making $12,000 at the time).
Harrelson, the first major leaguer to don a batting glove (it was actually a golf glove), officially joined the Red Sox “Impossible Dream” team on August 28, 1967. The Sox were in a very tight pennant race and needed a big bat and outfield help after the beloved Tony Conigliaro was almost killed by an errant Jack Hamilton fastball on August 18th.
Hawk Harrelson soared in Boston, and with the fans and media behind him, helped the 1967 team capture the AL flag in what has been called the greatest pennant race in the history of baseball.
In the summer of 1968, the Hawk was in full flight mode and having a spectacular year. One in which he socked a carrier high 35 home runs and led the league in RBIs with 109. The Fenway faithful cheered him on the field, and we dug his Nehru jackets and dune buggy.
The Card and the Story
I briefly met “The Hawk” after a game in the summer of 1968. I was a chartered member of the Hawk fan club and desperately wanted his autograph.
The best place to get autographs after a home game was on the Van Ness Street side of Fenway Park along the chain link fence that outlined the area where the players parked their cars. That summer day the area was jam packed with kids trying to get autographs.
Hawk came out, signed some autographs, got into his car, and left. Determined to come away with his autograph I decided to run after his car and hope that he would have to stop at an intersection. Luckily, he took a right on Jersey Street which meant he would have to stop when he came to Brookline Avenue. I was a pretty fast runner back in ’68 and caught up to the car at the intersection. I tapped on the passenger window which startled the Hawk. He smiled, leaned over and rolled down the window. I asked him to please sign my baseball card. I handed him my 1966 Topps card which featured him as player on the Kansas City A’s and a ballpoint pen. I was embarrassed that I did not have current Red Sox card of him and said – “I am sorry about the card, but it is the only one I have.” He said that was OK and signed my card. I thanked him and he drove off.
In this excellent post back in 2017, Tim runs down all of the Hawk’s cards and points out that that Topps NEVER issued a card of the “The Hawk” in a Red Sox uniform!
Two weeks into the 1969 season the Red Sox broke my heart and traded the Hawk to the Cleveland Indians. I am still not over it.
Something else you may have missed since it did not get the promotion it deserved is Ken’s very informative and entertaining autobiography titled –Hawk I Did It My Way that was published in 2018. I highly recommend it.
Kids all over Seattle shouted “hot diggity dog” when they discovered that Seattle Rainiers wiener cards were back in 1963. Garbage can raiding and dumpster diving would once again be the norm in alleys across the city. Kids “dogged” their mothers to not “wienie out” and buy the cheap franks. Frankly, they would only settle for the “card-carrying” brand: “Milwaukee Sausage Company.”
For those of you who were able to “digest” my previous “all-meat” offerings, you remember that Hygrade and Henry House were the companies who included cards in wiener packages. If Seattle was the norm, minor league teams must have frequently changed official hot dog providers. Looking through Rainiers programs from the late 1940s to mid-1960s, I count six different companies who claimed top dog status at Sicks’ Seattle Stadium.
As a side note, I see an omen in the fact that “Milwaukee” was the name of the company. Of course, the Wisconsin city would soon play a part in dashing the Northwest’s claim of big-league status. I will now remove my tin foil hat made of discarded hot dog wrappers.
The Milwaukee Sausage cards measure 4-1/4” square, feature a larger photo, and have less biographical information than the previous two iterations. A total of 11 cards comprise the set. As with the other wiener brands’ cards, the black and white photos are the same as those issued on the popcorn cards for that season.
To illustrate the rarity of finding cards today, a Paul Smith card-in fair condition-is currently offered on eBay for $1,899. The seller does allow for installment payments-if you are salivating at prospect of owning one of these “puppies.”
In 1963, the Rainiers were affiliated with Boston. The eleven cards in the set include a few players who saw limited action in Boston. The biggest name-by far-is the manager, legendary Red Sox hurler Mel Parnell.
Pete Smith sipped some coffee at Fenway in 1962 and 1963. He started in his first game at Detroit on 9/13/62. He lasted 3 and 2/3 innings giving up 8 runs, all earned.
Although I couldn’t find Milwaukee Sausage cards for Pete Jernigan, Bill Spanswick and Archie Skeen, each made it onto a Topps Rookie Stars cards. Spanswick has the distinction of being the other guy on Tony Conigliaro’s rookie card. By the way, Skeen never played in a major league game.
Other featured players with big league experience with other organizations include coach Elmer Singleton, Billy Harrell (13 games with Sox), George Spencer, and the aforementioned Paul Smith.
Well, after force feeding you more hot dogs than Joey Chestnut eats on Independence Day, it’s time to put away the mustard and sauerkraut. Hopefully, you have come to realize that America is a better place for having had a photo of Mel Parnell enclosed in a package of wieners.
Topps changed the face of baseball card collecting in the early 1950s and became the standard bearer for the hobby. By the early 1960s, they had expanded the size of the “base set” to more than 500 cards to include nearly all the players, and not just the stars.
Before the proliferation of baseball magazines in the later 1970s, cable television in the 1980s, and the internet explosion in the 1990s, these cards became the primary window for a young fan falling in love with the game to tie a player’s name to a recognizable face, and maybe even get a glimpse into their personality.
The reason it worked so well was in large part due the photography style. The photos looked so personal, so intimate, as though they were taken for your own family album. Each spring into summer, you got a fresh take (or maybe two or three, for stars and league leaders) on what a player looked like, adding dimension to your perception of that player. With time you got to see a player mature, from baby-faced rookie all the way to aging veteran.
My interest in cards was resurrected in 1985 as a re-capturing of my baseball fandom youth as it has done with countless others. For a whole new generation of players, even unrecognizable ones, I was provided with a recognizable face. I jumped back into the hobby with great enthusiasm. Four years earlier, Fleer and Donruss had broken up the Topps stranglehold, which ultimately led to a flood of manufacturer and set options that would follow for more than two decades. But I remained loyal to the Topps base set as the stable rock of the hobby, with its rich history and continuity.
Within a few years, something changed in the nature of the Topps base set, the cornerstone of the hobby. For many of the players, the intimate photo where I could see into a player’s eyes (and his soul?) was replaced by a photo of him turning a double play, or straining to throw a fastball. These “in game action” photos actually appeared on some cards as far back as the early 1970s, but they were the rare exception. During the 1980s they became commonplace. By the early 1990s they became the rule. In 2020, they’re essentially all you get in the Topps base set.
I did a little research to gain some insight into this evolution. I turned to my Red Sox card collection to get a sample of cards over several decades and classified the photos into a five different categories based on photo style:
Game Action: As described above, a photo taken during an actual game, usually with the player in motion swinging, pitching, fielding, etc., most often from a distance where the player’s entire body is in the photo
Candid Portrait: A photo of a player from the shoulders up that is not taken during a formal photo shoot, often taken when the player is in the dugout or on the field outside of actual game action.
Candid Action: A photo of a player “doing something”, but not in-game action. Maybe swinging a warmup bat or playing long toss. The photo is usually taken close enough to see expression in the player’s face.
Posed Portrait: A photo in the style of what you’d see in a high school yearbook, usually from the shoulders up, or just a “head shot”. You get the sense the player knows he’s being photographed, even if he’s not looking into the camera.
Posed Action: A posed photo of player “pretending” to be in action, in a batting stance, mid-swing, winding up to pitch, in a fielding stance, etc. The player knows his picture is being taken. It’s usually taken from close enough to see the player’s expression.
My collection starts in 1965, so I used a sample that ran from then until 1999. Binning it into five-year chunks, the distribution of cards falling into each of the five categories yields the distribution shown below. Even with this relatively small and not-so-random sample, the trend from posed shots to in-game action shots is unmistakable.
I realize many people like action cards. I understand it’s a matter of taste. Me? I get to see action when I watch the games. When it comes to cards, I’m looking for the personal charm.
Take another look at the three Don Sutton cards above, from 1967, to 1976, to 1985. You can see an actual person there. Now let’s take a look back to see how David Ortiz changed over a 10-year span of his illustrious career:
Ugh. David Ortiz is a beloved local hero in Red Sox Nation and loaded with charm. You certainly can’t see it here.
I often hear the retort that Topps provides all this in their Heritage and Archives products. For that, we’ll need a whole other discussion. For now, please Topps, put these classic photo styles back in your signature base set, so that the cards won’t get thrown away as mere nuisances in the lottery chase for rare inserts. Bring the base set back to its rightful prominence. It’s even okay if you include some action cards to keep everybody happy.
Author’s note: Before “biting” into part two of the Seattle Rainiers wiener cards series, I have new information about the Hygrade wieners cards in part one. The Standard Catalog of Vintage Baseball Cards stated that only 11 of the 22 cards have ever been cataloged. However, Seattle area collector Charles Kapner informed me that he has 13 different cards and knows of two more. Thus, it is possible that—as the back of each card states—there are really 22 different cards.
Three years after Hygrade wieners were first put on the rotating warmer at the local bowling alley and the cards tossed in the dumpster with the discarded Desenex aerosol cans, Henry House meat products included a new set of Seattle Rainiers cards in their wiener packages.
The 1960 Henry House set is comprised of 18 cards and have several similarities to the Hygrade version from 1957. For instance, the cards are printed with red ink and include a small player photo accompanied by a short biography. This time, though, the cards are vertically oriented and feature a detachable mail in coupon. Kids could send in two coupons plus 25 cents and receive a nifty Rainiers uniform patch.
The cards are “skip numbered” using the players’ uniform numbers. As with the Hygrade cards, the Henry House photos are the same ones found on the popcorn cards.
The 1960 Rainiers were affiliated with the Cincinnati Reds and managed by Dick Sisler. The roster was comprised mostly of veterans with some major league experience. A few prospects were sprinkled in as well. Some of the familiar names include Gordy Coleman, Erv Palica, Dave Stenhouse, Jerry Zimmerman, Ray Ripplemeyer, Charlie Beamon, and Hal Bevan.
Another veteran is Seattle University basketball and baseball legend Johnny O’Brien. The former Pirate and Brave finished up his career with Seattle in 1960.
Don Rudolph, former White Sox pitcher and manager of his exotic dancer wife, shows up in the set as well.
Remember, there is still one more installment to come in this “dog” of a series. Until the next post, I am off to the West Seattle Lanes to eat a Hygrade or Henry House wiener that has been rotating on the warmer for the last 60 years.
I am currently curating an exhibition at Queens College, in Flushing, which will be on display throughout February and March. While I don’t yet have a title for my little experiment (the show marks the first time I have ever done such a thing), the theme of the event centers on the history of baseball in New York City, from its inception to the present day, told through art and artifacts. I am indebted to a number of individuals who are either loaning me pieces from their private collections, or are submitting original work to help me craft the story I am trying to tell.
Of course, baseball cards are a part of the event. I have long known that I wanted Jesse Loving, creator of the beautiful Ars Longa cards, to be a part of this. Although he had gone on a bit of a hiatus, he kindly agreed to fire up the engines again and is providing me with roughly 80 cards that cover the game in the Big Apple from William Wheaton and Doc Adams, to Rube Marquard and Casey Stengel, a span of roughly eighty years. I am giddy at the idea of creating a wall of his lush, vibrant images, and eagerly await the arrival of the package.
With one or two exceptions, I was intending for Jesse’s work to be the only cards in the show. There are lots of ways to tell the history of the game that have nothing to do with our favorite hobby and I wanted the beautiful creations of Ars Longa to exist in a vacuum. Then, I learned last week that one of the individuals who was contributing some truly exciting pieces from the 19th Century had decided to withdraw from the exhibition. I had to come up with something to fill the holes on the walls of the gallery left by his exit.
I am not a fine artist, nor do I have a particularly extensive collection of artifacts and memorabilia laying about. So, what to do? While the pieces I lost were from the 19th Century, I actually have some of Jesse’s cards, as well as uniforms and equipment loaned to me by Eric Miklich, that are already assisting me in telling that part of the story. I also have quite a few items that represent the Golden Age of baseball in New York, the halcyon days of Willie, Mickey, and the Duke. What the show was really lacking was a nod to the more modern incarnation of the game. The best way for me to benefit my show, and fill the unexpected void, was to focus on that gap.
That’s when it struck me that, while I don’t really have a lot of personal memorabilia at hand, there was a way I could tackle my problem at very little expense. Any exhibit on the history of New York City, (especially one taking place in the most ethnically diverse borough, on a campus that hears over 110 languages spoken every single day) needs to explore the beautiful multiculturalism that makes this City what it is. That was when I came up with my plan, a work I am calling, “If They Can Make it There.”
In the long history of professional baseball, there have been men who were born in over fifty countries besides the United States that have made the incredible and unlikely journey to the Major Leagues. While the Dominican Republic and Venezuela have provided an outsized portion of these ballplayers, countries as far-flung as Belize, the Czech Republic and Australia have also chipped in. Many of those foreign-born athletes got their professional starts in New York City. In fact, twenty-one different countries, not counting the U.S. and its territories, have generated players who made their Major League debut with the Yankees or the Mets. My plan to fill in my unexpected vacancy is to honor these men, and what better way to do it than through the beauty of baseball cards.
I am putting together a collection of these itinerant dreamers which will feature each of them in the uniform of either the Yankees or the Mets. Why just those teams and not also the Giants, Dodgers, and the multiple early squads? Two reasons. The first I already mentioned. The goal was to try and examine the impact of the game in the present day. By focusing on just the Yankees and Mets, it reinforces that point by design. The other reason is economics. Now, I can complete this set, mostly, with inexpensive cards from the last thirty or forty years.
Beyond the player appearing in a New York uniform, I decided to lay down a few other guidelines to make this creation have a little more form, and not just be a random mishmash of cards thrown up on the wall. First of all, no reprints. While the exhibition will feature some reproductions (uniforms, mostly), I have been trying to limit their influence all along. No need to further water down this project by including “fake” versions of the cards. Besides, very few of the cards I needed were particularly valuable, so why resort to knock-offs? I also wanted, if at all possible, for the card to have been issued at the time the player was employed by that team.
This is not always feasible. A number of players who fit this criteria, including cups of coffee like Jim Cockman (born in Canada) and Harry Kingman (China), both of whom made brief appearances with the Yankees years before Jacob Ruppert signed Babe Ruth, never had any card issued, nonetheless one of them wearing the proper uniform. There are even holes for more durable players from recent years, like Stan Javier (Dominican Republic), who enjoyed a seventeen-year career that ended in 2001. During his first big league season, in 1984, he appeared in seven early-season games for the Yankees before being shipped back to Nashville and Columbus for more seasoning. He would later appear on the roster of seven other major league teams, but he never played another game for the Yankees. The Trading Card Database claims he has 289 cards out there, but none of them were issued in 1984 or ’85 featuring Javier in pinstripes.
There are missing pieces of the puzzle for the Mets, too. Utility man José Moreno (Dominican Republic) and shortstop Brian Ostrosser (Canada) never got a card of themselves in blue and orange, at least not while actively playing for the team. I have decided that in their cases, as well as that of Javier, to bend the rules and use one of the cards that came with the sets issued by the NYC-based appliance retailer, The Wiz, in the early nineties. While most of the hundreds who appear in this ubiquitous set were no longer active members of the roster at the time the cards were issued, at least they are dressed properly. I am also considering getting an Aceo Art card of Frank Estrada (Mexico), whose two lifetime plate appearances were insufficient to ever make Topps take notice.
Most of the collection, though, will be the real deal. There are cards from almost all of the big name publishers of the modern era, including Topps, Bowman, Fleer and Donruss. There will be plenty of Junk Era wax, as well as the slick chromes that have come to represent the current state of the industry. The bulk of the exhibit will include roughly 130 cards (purchased via COMC or already in my collection) that cost me a combined total of $45.76. Most exciting to me, however, is that there will be a small handful of pre-war cards thrown in there, too. I decided to reward my clever thriftiness by investing in some slightly pricier goodies.
I’ve already picked up a 1934 Goudey Arndt Jorgens (Norway), a 1934-36 Diamond Stars George Selkirk (Canada), and a 1911 T205 Jimmy Austin (United Kingdom). I also have my eye on two T206s, a Jack Quinn (Slovakia) and a Russ Ford (Canada). Assuming the Ebay gods favor me and I get the latter two, they will represent the first cards I’ve owned from that hobby-defining set. These bits of old paper not only give the exhibit a little more gravitas as a whole, but when it’s all over I will have some gems to add to my personal collection.
The exhibit also gives me a chance to show off a little bit of my beloved collection of Cubans who made the leap to the majors. There have been eight Cubans who began their major league career as Yankees, most recently Amauri Sanit in 2011. The Mets have birthed the careers of four citizens of the forbidden island, the most notable of which was Rey Ordoñez. While Ordoñez was famously weak at the plate, rarely hitting more than a single home run in a season, he was a defensive mastermind at shortstop in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s, when the Amazin’s had one of the most exciting infields in baseball history. His partner in the middle of the diamond, Edgardo Alfonzo (Venezuela), will also be featured.
The players mentioned here really are just the tip of the iceberg. The exhibit will also include some of the brightest stars of today, including Gleyber Torres (Venezuela) and Miguel Andujar (Dominican Republic). Ron Gardenhire (Germany) makes an appearance, as do the Mastuis (Japan), Hideki and the less-successful Kazuo. There is even one Hall of Famer who is featured, buried in the dozens of other more obscure names. The quickest among you will figure out who that is almost instantly. The rest of you, well, I guess you’ll just have to stop by the college and find out. My currently unnamed exhibition opens February 18. I hope to see you there.
Since it has been awhile since I irritated (I mean enlightened) you with a multi-part post, I have decided to ring in the new year with a really “meaty” series. This time I’m offering a “frank” discussion of the three iterations of the Seattle Rainiers’ “wiener” cards.
In 1957, the United States was flexing its muscles on the world stage and producing large amounts of processed foods that would set the “baby boomers” on a lifetime course of obesity and heart disease. The pristine environment of the Pacific Northwest–with its healthy outdoorsy types–was no exception. The Carstens Meat Products company produced Hygrade brand wieners to ensure that all boys and girls literally internalized the patriotic fervor (flavor) of the All-American hot dog.
Of course, hot dogs and baseball are inextricably linked, thus coupling the two in marketing campaigns made perfect sense. So, on a regional basis, major league and minor league players’ picture cards found their way into wiener packages.
If putting cardboard under the juicy, salt and nitrate laden sausage tubes seems counter-intuitive, you are not accounting for good old American ingenuity. Mid-century America was offering up one innovation after another. So, putting a waxed or plastic coating over the photo of baseball players and adding them to meat packaging was just another example of the prevailing “can do” attitude.
But what seems like a good idea doesn’t always stand the test of time or–in this case–briny juice. The cards were often juice stained and bent from the shrink wrapping of the dogs. Therefore, finding cards in excellent condition is rare. You may remember that the most famous wiener cards, Kahn’s, changed tactics and had kids mail order the cards.
The Hygrade cards use the same photos as found on the popcorn cards which were distributed at Sicks’ Stadium inside bags of popcorn. Here are links to my posts on that subject.
Although the back states that there are 22 cards, only 12 have ever been catalogued. The small photo is juxtaposed with biographical information under the banner: “Meet the Rainiers.”
The most interesting feature is “Kewpie’s Korner.” A small drawing of the former player and radio color commentator, “Kewpie” Dick Barrett, accompanies text exhorting the collector to eat plenty of Hygrade wieners.
Barrett was a legend in the Pacific Coast League. Pitching mostly for the Rainiers, Dick amassed 234 PCL wins, as stated on the cards. His major league career took place primarily during the war years. Barrett’s cherubic face resembled a popular doll known as “kewpie,” hence the nickname. The short, roly-poly Barrett did not fit the bill of a star athlete, but he was much beloved by the “Suds” fans.
“Kewpie’s Korner” stated that the cards could be traded in for 8” X 10” photos, just like the popcorn cards. However, I was unable to discover where kids made the transaction. The 1957 program has an ad for Hygrade, but it doesn’t mention the cards.
To find a card any condition is extremely rare and very expensive. Poor condition cards go for over $100. I don’t own one but have seen them in the possession of Northwest sports memorabilia collectors. The wiener cards coincided with the only season as Rainiers for legends Maury Wills and manager Lefty O’Doul.
Another notable is Larry Jansen, who was once the ace of the New York Giants staff. He won 23 games in 1951 for the pennant winning Giants.
Also, the first Filipino-American to play Major League Baseball, Bobby Balcena, is in the set.
I will leave you with these sage words: “Hygrade on the package means Quality on the plate.”
A recent post by Jenny Miller about the Topps Bunt app got me thinking about digital cards. I’ve long wanted to see such a post on this blog but I suspect that our membership base is skeptical at best* when it comes to cards that only live in an app.
*And dismissive at worst.
I get it. This is a cardboard hobby and the idea of something existing only digitally doesn’t feel “real.” At the same time, the experience Jenny describes is closer to the pure ideal of the hobby than much of what’s going on with card releases. She doesn’t have to spend any money. She’s able to look at her collection and acquire new cards anywhere and anytime she has battery life on her phone. There’s no concern about finding a card shop or hoping that the card aisle hasn’t been raided by pack seekers. It sounds like a lot more fun than most of the bellyaching I see about the current state of the hobby on Twitter.
What really got me thinking though were the images Jenny used in her blog post. I’m online-averse in all my media. I prefer CDs/DVDs/BluRay to streaming. I prefer books to Kindle. As interesting as the Topps Bunt app seems it’s just not something that appeals to me…unless I can get the cards out of the app. As much as I’m a luddite, my concerns are actually more about being locked in to a corporate ecosystem and the fact that companies have a bad track record with regard to maintaining these things.
I just don’t trust these apps to last and while I don’t need ALL my cards to last another 20, 30, 40 years it would be nice to know that there’s a possibility of it. Jenny didn’t get her images out of the app (she confirmed with me that she pulled them from Topps’s Twitter feed) but she could have.
My phone (an iPhone8) produces screenshots that are 750×1334 pixels. This translates into 2.5″×4.45″ at 300 DPI. Even if you have to crop off a little of the image to get just the card this is enough data for good-quality printing. Yeah. There’s no reason why you couldn’t roll your own Bunt cards.
As much as it’s weird to me how the Bunt app cards show evidence of wanting to pretend to be physical items with their wrinkles, halftone rosettes, “autographs,” and peeling effects, they are actually something that can be taken into the real world if you wanted to.
Costco wallet-sized prints are 59¢ for four. Even if you didn’t print these, just being able to save them outside of the app gives you a level of flexibility and future-protection that alleviates a lot of my concerns. It also reminds me of a number of other card-related things we’ve covered on this blog where the original objects contain information that is no longer accessible for most collectors.
One of the best things about this hobby is how it’s a near perfect usage of technology—in this case print technology. Cards are the right size to hold and store. They’re durable enough to handle without falling apart immediately. And they don’t require any supplementary technology.
I very much love cards that push the into other technological realms though. They just require some help to be fully enjoyed if the other technology does not age as well as ink on cardboard.
For example, Auravision and Baseball Talk are both wonderful objects but the audio portions of them are tough to access. Record players may be making a comeback but they’ve not been standard in most homes for a long time. Plus you have to punch a hole in the middle of that nice Auravision photo to listen to anything. Similarly, Baseball Talk requires a special player which, even if you have one, is not guaranteed to work anymore since it’s a cheap child’s toy.
But the internet is a wonderful place. The Auravision recordings are up on YouTube. As are the Baseball Talk ones. This means I can have my Baseball Talk cards in my album and pull up the corresponding recordings on the web. Yes there’s always that fear that the recordings will disappear from YouTube but they’re out there, but there are tools out there that will download the audio from a YouTube video and convert it to MP3.
Another thing that YouTube has preserved is things like 2000 Upper Deck Power Deck. Sure you can just shove a baseball card sized mini CD-ROM into a binder page but reading the data is near impossible now. Most computers don’t have optical media trays and the ones that do are usually slot-loading ones that can’t accept non-standard sized or shaped media. So your only option to see what’s on the disc is to go to YouTube and hope it’s been uploaded.
I’ve actually been engaged in my own form of converting a somewhat-inaccesable product into one with digital footprints. I don’t have the toy to view my Viewmaster discs so I’m only able to see them by holding a disc up to light. This isn’t ideal. Scanning them into wiggle gifs produces a better way of seeing them.
I’m also going a step further and scanning the booklet so I can convert each image into a 2.5″ square card with a still image in the front and the booklet on the back. No it’s not the Viewmaster experience but it take the photos into a form that’s more accessible.
Do I expect Bunt to be around in a decade? No way. But I do expect JPGs of the cards to be available someplace. Maybe not all of them, but someone next decade will have an archive of a bunch of them. And I have my fingers crossed that a few cards will even be printed out the way I’m printing out my Viewmaster photos.
The great Minnie Miñoso would’ve turned 94 today. Or judging from some of his baseball cards either 95, 96 or 97.
But regardless of how old he really was, he was a very important player in baseball history, worthy of the Hall of Fame for his tremendous career as well as his role as a pioneer for black Latinos. So let’s celebrate the Cuban Comet with nine of my favorite Miñoso cards.
1945-46 Caramelo Deportivo [Sporting Caramels] Cuban League
This is my baseball card Holy Grail; the one Miñoso card in this post which I do not yet own. They do pop up once in a while, though with a price tag in the $350-$500 range even for something in the 2-3 grade range. Either way, these 1-7/8″ by 2-5/8″ black & white cards were printed on a very thin stock and were intended to be pasted into a collector album. So even when you find one of these, there will likely be a chunk of the back gouged out (this won’t be the first time you read about this here).
On the front of the card, there’s a thin white border with a photo and a small circled number. That’s so you knew where to paste the card in the album. Fun fact about these: the Caramelo Deportivo sets are the only cards I’ve seen of Minnie (Miñoso was featured in the 1945-46, 1946-47 & 1947-48 sets) where he’s sporting a mustache, though a thin one at that.
The first installment of its “flagship” set, Topps has what is considered Minnie’s “Rookie Card” even though he has earlier cardboard appearances (see above). The front of the card lists his name as Orestes, as does his facsimile autograph. Missing here is the trademark straight-edge under the signature, as was his custom years later.
The back of the card does refer to him as “Minnie” even here for 1952.
1952 Red Man Tobacco
From 1952-55, Red Man Tobacco issued these colorful 3-1/2″ square cards (they originally came with another half-inch tab at the bottom), bringing cards and tobacco products back together again as they were with the 19th century & early 20th century sets. Everything you want is on the front here. The back of the card is just an advertisement of the set itself with an offer to collect 50 of the tabs and send them in for a baseball cap. Apparently, that’s what the original owner of my card did.
1952 Berk Ross
At only 2″ by 3″ this qualifies as a Mini Miñoso. There’s not much to it; the back of the card boasts “Hit Parade of Champions” with a brief bio and a few statistics. These cards have a sort of primitive charm to them. The printing is a little off, the centering also not quite right, and there’s little nubs on each edge as if they were part of a perforated strip. I got this card at a good price probably because somebody’s name is stamped on the back.
1954 Dixie Lids
65 years ago, somebody enjoyed a cup of ice cream and when they removed the lid, there was “Minny” Miñoso. If there’s another card of him listed as Minny, I’m not aware of it. These lids advertise the Dixie Lid 3-D Starviewer; all you need to do is send 25 cents, this lid, name and address to the company. Personally, I’d much rather have this lid than the Starviewer, even if it looks like quite a contraption.
1962 Topps Baseball Bucks
Minnie Miñoso played only 39 games for the St. Louis Cardinals, but it was long enough to get his face on a one-dollar 4-1/8 inch by 1-3/4 inch “Baseball Buck.” Sure, Henry Aaron and Roberto Clemente were on $5 bills and Willie Mays & Mickey Mantle were on $10 bills, but there’s nothing wrong with being on a $1. George Washington is on the $1 and that’s good enough for me.
1967 Venezuelan Retirado
These are TOUGH to find, particularly in good condition, because just like the Caramelo Deportivo cards I mentioned earlier, these were glued (or stuck in some way) inside collector albums, evidenced by the chunk of the back of my card that was torn off. Other than that, this might be my favorite Minnie card.
First of all, I had never even heard of this set before stumbling upon it. It’s pretty rare and it came from another country. I love the beautiful shade of blue as a plain background for the player image, which might not be a surprise to those who read my post on the 2010 Tristar Obak cards.
Editor’snote: This subset of 49 retired baseball players and one who would still be active in 1980 😃 was part of a larger Venezuelan release popularly known as 1967 Topps Venezuelan. However, there is some reason to believe these cards were not produced by Topps at all.
1984 True Value White Sox, 1986-89 Coca-Cola White Sox
I’m counting these five team issue cards as one card, since I make the rules. The first from the 1984 True Value team set, which Jason will certainly find more appealing than the 1986 Coca-Cola card (even though it’s the same photo used) because of the large BORDER. The Blue-bordered 1987 Coca-Cola card also shows the same photo as the red-bordered 1988 Coca-Cola card. Then there’s the obnoxiously-bordered 1989 card.
What’s my point? Well, the White Sox were still including Minnie Miñoso in team-issue sets even though he last played in 1980 (even though there were attempts to get him into a game in 1990 as well as 1993). And that means something. He’s Mr. White Sox. An iconic player in franchise history, as well as baseball history.
2015 White Sox tribute
This card was given out to attendees of Minnie’s memorial service at Holy Family Church in March 2015. It’s nicely done in the 1964 Topps style with red lettering instead of the light blue used in the original set. Plus, the #9 memorial logo is shown in the upper left corner.
Nine (okay, thirteen) cards of one man, spanning over 70 years. An amazing man. An amazing life. And about one year from now, we’ll hopefully be celebrating his election to the Hall of Fame on the Golden Era ballot.
Editor’s note: Chris delivered a terrific presentation on Minnie’s Hall of Fame case at a 2019 SABR Chicago chapter meeting. His presentation begins around the 19:00 mark of this video.
A common complaint among vintage collectors who run across newer issues is that we miss the good old days when baseball cards had borders. Looking at cards like these 2017 Astros leaves us feeling (ahem!)…cheated.
The borders we overlooked as kids have come to symbolize all that was right about baseball cards. Joni Mitchell had us pegged. You really DON’T know what you’ve got till it’s gone. No, we’d never pave Paradise to put up a parking lot, but we sure wouldn’t mind a thin cement edge around it.
The borders on our cards have taken on almost a spiritual significance with “meaning of life” level implications. We ponder koans such as, “Is a card without a border even a card?”
The sages teach us that without nothing there could be no something. Cardboardismically speaking, the border is the yin to the image’s yang. Form needs outline.
The vintage collector therefore must find “border in the chaos,” else risk serenity and sanity alike. Should he even consider collecting cards post-2015, his best, nay ONLY, option is Heritage!
Whatever you hear on TV, friends, THIS is the real border crisis, but fear not…
Tengo un plan para eso…and it won’t even raise your taxes! (Checks new eBay policy. “Okay, so maybe a little.”)
Add just THREE CARDS to your collection and you’re gonna win on borders so much you’ll be tired of winning on borders.
1960 Fleer ted williams
Let’s start with Ted Williams. Compare his 1960 Fleer card with that of Hack Wilson or any other player in the set. That’s some serious border! Where some perfectly centered cards are said to have 50-50 centering, Teddy Ballgame comes in at 150-150!
Back in the day you might have found this card an eyesore, but that was then. Now you probably look at the card and wish the borders were even bigger!
1936-37 World wide gum Lou Gehrig
The second must-have for the border hoarder is the 1936-37 World Wide Gum card of Lou Gehrig. (Note that this issue is catalogued as 1936, but Matthew Glidden makes a compelling case that 1936-37 is more correct.)
At first you may shrug away Larrupin’ Lou’s border as nothing special, no different than that of teammate Dickey. Look closer though and you’ll see that Gehrig’s image comes to a refreshing end more than a quarter inch from the card edge. After unremarkable offerings in 1933 and 1934, World Wide Gum definitely put the Border in “North of the Border!”
1934 Butterfinger Paul Waner
Finally we come to the 1934 Butterfinger card of Paul Waner, the card that I believe sets the standard when it comes to border-to-image ratio.
While the Dizzy Dean image from the same issue flirts tantalizingly close to the card edge, the Waner card has more margin than Gould selling hammers to the Pentagon. If the card had any more border we might forget it was a baseball card altogether and assume it was a Home Depot paint sample for Gotham Gray. If Big Poison were any smaller on the card he would have been Little Poison.
Teddy Ballgame, the Iron Horse, and Big Poison. Three players who made the Hall of Fame by a wide margin, but even more importantly, three cards who made the wide margin Hall of Fame. Border crisis averted, at least for now.