Father’s Day 1976 Topps #69 Jim & Mike Hegan

Father’s Day is nearing and it got me thinking of baseball dads & sons who are on cardboard.

1954 Topps #29 Jim Hegan

As I mentioned last week, in preparation for the SABR 47 Jim Bouton panel, I recently reread “Ball Four”. One of the entries that reminded me of a Baseball card occurred on March 28th. The subject of the passage is Pilots outfielder Mike Hegan, who is a recurring character throughout the book.

The paragraph is interesting for several reasons. The connections between golf and baseball are pretty strong. Just last week Tim Jenkins mentioned that Hawk Harrelson retired from baseball to pursue a professional golf career. There are also several stories of mothers helping sons learn the game, and they are often noteworthy. But, to me, the most interesting portion relates to Mike Hegan’s father Jim. I knew Mike’s father played baseball because in 1976 at the heart of the collecting days of my youth Topps dropped a Father and Son subset.

1976 Topps #69 Father & Son Jim & Mike Hegan (b-side)

I want to start with the B-Side of this card because this continues the discussion of Mike Hegan’s parents. The text regarding Jim Hegan that is credited to Mike does mention his father being a great influence, however the younger Hegan is also careful to note that this is not just in baseball but in life as well. When Mike actually does mention getting tips on the game of baseball it is only in the context of other players including Hall of Famer Bob Lemon. Perhaps I am reading too much into this but this version of Mike Hegan does correlate with the observations of Ball Four. Jim Hegan was a Ballplayer but didn’t stress baseball at home. If there was an baseball influence there it came from elsewhere – quite likely Mikes mother Clare.

1976 Topps #69 Father & Son Jim & Mike Hegan

A real nice design for these cards, the vintage card of the father balanced with a contemporary photo of the current player is a perfect balance for the subset theme.

1976 is the third consecutive year that Topps included a subset that featured insets of earlier cards on a current card. In 1974 Topps the Hank Aaron Subset which leads off flagship includes several cards with four-up panels of Topps cards from the new Home Run King’s career. The following year 1975 Topps featured the 24 card MVP subset which will always be one of my favorites.

The 1976 Father&Son subset consist of 5 Cards that run from #66-#70. Two of the cards belong to families that would feature a third generation of MLB players and both of these cards have Phillies ties. First is Ray and Bob Boone (#67) who of course are related to Bret and Aaron Boone. The other is #66 Gus and Buddy Bell, and we know that David spent a few forgettable years with the Phillies. The other two cards feature the Sr./Jr. combos of Roy Smalleys and Joe Colemans.

1985 Topps

1985 topps #132 Father & Son Yogi and Dale Berra

Topps returned to the Father-Sons in 1985 with a 13 card subset. The Boones, Bells and Smalleys all made the cut for the second round. Other notables include SABR 47 Panel Subject Yogi Berra with son Dale, Tito and Terry Francona, and SABR 45 (Chicago) guest panelist Steve Trout with his father Dizzy.

One of the guests scheduled for the Yogi Berra Panel is journalist Lindsay Berra who is the granddaughter of Yogi and Niece of Dale Berra. Her father Larry played minor league baseball in the Mets organization.

Sources and Links

Jim Hegan SABR Bio Rick Balazs

Mike Hegan SABR Bio Joseph Wancho

Ball Four

Baseball Card Database

Baseball-ref

A’s cards and Cards cards

Growing up in the Bay Area, while I wasn’t an A’s fan, my local card shops had a lot of A’s cards in the cases. I remember noting even at the time how the team name tended to break a lot of Topps’s designs: “A’s” was too short, had punctuation, and required a lower-case letter. “Athletics” meanwhile was one of the longest team names.

As I’ve gotten older and gained more familiarity with the older cards I’ve realized that the A’s are not the only team whose name Topps messed around with. Throughout the 1960s, Topps referred to the Cardinals—another team with a long name—as “Cards” on many of their cards. So I’ve decided to go through Topps’s styled-text designs from 1964 to 1986 and see how they handled the A’s and the Cardinals and any other odd cases.

I chose to stop in 1986 because 1987 is the first year that Topps had just logos, no team names, on the card fronts. There are a few text-based designs which followed—specifically 1988, 1989, 1990, 2004, 2006, and 2008—but Topps has also used “Athletics” every since 1988.

Before 1964, Topps just used plain text to list the team name. Yes it’s part of the design, but it was never the distinguishing element. All that changed in 1964 when Topps began using styled text and team names as a key element of its designs.* This opened the door to having to create designs which worked for all name lengths. Sometimes this was successful, other times team names which were either too long or too short ended up revealing some problems in the design, and sometimes Topps just made some weird design decisions which I still can’t figure out.

*There are some earlier examples such as the 1960 manager cards which use pennants very similar to the 1965 design but nothing as part of the default set design.

For their first real foray into styled type 1964’s design is pretty robust. It works well with all the team names. It doesn’t feel too cramped and everything’s still legible with the nine-letter ones. If anything this design works better than the super-extended letters Topps used for the four-letter teams, although the extended font does have a certain 1960s appeal.

1965—while a design I love—starts to reveal how things can start to go bad. “Athletics” begins to get really pinched and hard to read in the point of the pennant. “White Sox” has the same issue but works a bit better. It’s easy to see why Topps decided to go with “Cards” in what would be the first year of six consecutive years where Topps used “Cards” instead of “Cardinals.”

I’m not covering 1966 except to note that Topps used “Cards.” 1966, like a number of years in the ’70s and ’80s*, doesn’t use styled text but rather puts plain text in a colored box. Since the box functions as the design element rather than the text the length of the word doesn’t bother me as long as it’s legible.

*1974, 1976, 1979, 1980, 1983, and 1985.

1967 continued with “Athletics” and “Cards.” In this case it’s clear that the design doesn’t quite work with nine-character team names. The font is too condensed, it’s too close to the edges of the photo, and the black stroke is too heavy for the letter sizes. Despite it being the consensus best design of the decade that it doesn’t work as well with long team names is a strike against it.

1968 meanwhile, while not exactly styled-text, presented a lot of challenges for how to fit the team names into that little circle. Topps opted to go with “A’s” and it’s a great fit. “Cards” works wonderfully too. Since eight-letter names like Pirates barely fit—you can see that Topps had to use a thinner font—Topps made the wise decision to put White Sox on two lines instead.

1969 is similar to 1967 except that Topps chose fonts which work better. Rather than using a super-compressed font with the long names, Topps used a completely different extended font for the shorter names. It kind of weirds me out how different these fonts are* but by using two distinct fonts the design itself works better for all name lengths.

*Look at the “C” and “S” and how in “Athletics” they’re parallel to the baseline but in “Cards” they’re at an angle.

I have no idea what Topps was doing in 1970. They stayed with “A’s” even though the design would’ve accommodated “Athletics.” It certainly looks fine with “White Sox.” This is the first—and certainly not the last—case of using “A’s” where the design just looks weird to me. The font is huge and bold and the lower-case “s”—especially with the right-aligned type—doesn’t fit.

But it’s not just the A’s thing I can’t figure out. In 1970 Topps released cards with both “Cardinals” and “Cards” AND both “Yankees” and “Yanks.” Besides the fact that I’ve not seen “Yanks” on any other Topps cards, the idea that Topps was just changing team names from series to series is bizarre to me. That Topps was doing this while not changing the Pilots cards to Brewers cards? I don’t understand. At all.

In 1971 I’m mainly surprised that Topps stayed with “Cards.” It looks fine, using such an extended font for the long names means that even the centered shorter names look good. And I’m certainly glad Topps didn’t stretch the short names to fit. But to my eye the design looks better when the team name fills the entire top of the card and if “Athletics” fits, they should’ve been able to get “Cardinals” to fit as well. In any case this was the last year Topps went with “Cards.”

In 1972, Topps swapped from 1971 and went with “A’s” and “Cardinals” instead. Since this is how things stayed for the next decade I’m mainly going to focus on the A’s cards from here on out. Topps’s designs going forward, including this one, all work with “Cardinals” so going with “A’s” is never a reaction to a design restriction and instead reflects some other corporate choice.

The 1972 A’s example is notable in that the “S” is also capitalized—heck even the apostrophe is huge. I still feel like it’s not quite enough text to really work in the space the way that all the other team designs do though.

  

1973 is non-styled text like how Topps’s designs were before 1964. 1974 and 1976 are text in colored boxes. 1975 and 1977 though are two examples where the “A’s” looks just awful—probably the two worst designs for the A’s in all Topps’s history. I appreciate white space in design but in these cases just having two letters centered on the text area doesn’t give the impression that Topps thought about the design at all.

In both of these cases, “Athletics” would’ve worked better. Although with 1977—and this is part of a more general critique of a design which I’ve come to actively dislike—if the text were aligned to the left rather than being centered I think things would’ve been ok. The off-center centered text thing is especially egregious.

1978 and 1981 though (1979 and 1980 are colored boxes with text in them) are two examples where the “A’s” works really well. 1978 in particular is fantastic in how Topps created lettering which fills the space without looking different from the rest of the cards in the set. Where 1975 and 1977 didn’t consider the design at all, 1978 is an example of how to do it 100% correct.

1981 meanwhile is an example where the A’s cards look better than every other team.* I don’t care much for those floppy hats. I was okay with them as a kid because I only really saw them on the Giants and A’s cards—two teams with two-color caps—but on every team with a single-color cap this design is already in trouble. Putting the team name on the hat? Who does that? So I enjoy that the A’s caps on the cards end up looking very much like their actual on-field caps.

*The only other contender is the Pirates with their pillbox cap and the special design exception Topps made for them.

  

Skipping around a bit now. 1983 and 1985 are color box years. We’ll get to 1984 soon. But 1982 and 1986 are two examples where things work okay. Not great, but okay enough. 1982 is very similar to 1977 in terms of how it’s handling the fonts. The difference is that the hockey sticks work way better than the position pennant. The team name is supposed to continue the color stripe across the bottom of the card. “A’s” is barely big enough to do it. That Topps used an almost-full-height “S” is a huge help here. As is the fact that the font is also somewhat extended.

1986 meanwhile is similar to 1975 in that the “A’s” is kind of small all by itself on the top of the card. The saving grace here is again how wide the font is. That A is wider than it is tall. It also has a ton of character with the triangular crossbar which, while not specially-designed like the 1978 cards, gives the team name a similar kind of presence.

Back to 1984 and the first year in over a decade which Topps used “Athletics.” It’s not hard to see why. Four-letter names are a stretch. Literally. “A’s” would’ve looked ridiculous. That nine letters is also a bit tight is part of why, while I liked this set as a kid, I’m less impressed by its design now.

Until the Diamondbacks came around, baseball team names were all between four (Cubs, Mets, Reds) and nine (Athletics, Cardinals, White Sox) characters long. Many years it feels like Topps’s designs were optimized for five to seven characters. Four and eight work okay. Anything longer or shorter is pushing things. I’m less surprised that Topps used “Cards” for “Cardinals” than I am that they stopped doing so in 1972.

About the Diamondbacks

With the Diamondbacks taking over as the longest team name, They’re now the more interesting example than the A’s. There’s not enough to really post here but it’s worth noting that Topps has used both “Diamondbacks” and “D-Backs” on the few type-based designs it’s had since 1990.

That Topps hasn’t used “D-Backs” on any of the Heritage designs shows how badly those designs work with long team names. The 1965 and 1968 team names are almost unreadable. And if I thought the 1967 Athletics cards looked bad, the Diamondbacks ones look even worse. In all these cases the cards would look way better with “D-Backs” instead.

So About Heritage

Oof. Maybe this is MLB trademark silliness* but, as with the photography, not respecting the original designs is one of the main reasons I’m down on the Heritage product. There’s no reason not to use “Cards” or “A’s” here. In all cases  the results are a downgrade—especially in 1968 where the ™ symbol throws off the centering and makes the name fit even worse.

*All the team names all have a ™ on them now. This started in 1992 but only became standard in 1999.

There are many reasons to like Heritage. It does capture a certain baseball card essence which the modern flagship sets no longer have. But for Topps to reuse designs like this and then not get the details right in ways which breaks the design itself? Infuriating.

Butch Wax

 

Mid-twentieth century men wore their hair short with some type of hair dressing. A tube of Brylcreem or a bottle of Vitalis could be found in medicine cabinets all over America. Those who wanted a real “clean” look opted for the crew, butch or flattop cuts. These extra-short styles often required a thick pomade–oddly pinkish in color–known as “Butch Wax” to make the short hair in front stand up. I know this first hand due to childhood trauma resulting from forced crew and flattop cuts in an era of increasingly longer hair styles.

The well chronicled emergence of the counter-culture in the late 1960s sparked a revolution in personal appearance with men sporting long, undressed hair, beards and mustaches. This movement toward the “Age of Aquarius” didn’t sit well with my parents and it certainly didn’t jive with the hidebound traditions of baseball.

Players were expected to be clean shaven with short-cropped hair. 1970 baseball cards started to show players with lengthening sideburns which served as a harbinger of the “hairy” poses we are familiar with as the ‘70s progressed. However even after the zeitgeist overtook baseball in the ‘70s–starting with the hirsute “-Swingin’ Oakland A’s–some teams, like the Cincinnati Reds, remained adamant when it came to “old school” grooming. A vestige of this school of thought still remains with the Yankees prohibition of facial hair.

But the “far out” and “groovy” new looks on display during the ’67 “summer of love” in San Francisco or at “Woodstock” in ’69 were nowhere to be seen in baseball card photos at this time. It was still “squaresville” as far as Topps was concerned. The players’ boycott of Topps in ’68, expansion in ’69 and many trades led to the use of older photos and many bare-headed shots. As a result, decidedly “un-cool” hair styles would greet the “tie-dyed” clad kid when he laid down some “bread” for a “stash” of wax packs.

Here’s a look at some “squares” you can really “dig.”

This ’68 Pete Richert shows off a great flattop. It appears that Pete was wearing cap before the photo was taken which resulted in a slightly “mussed” look. There had to be some Butch Wax in use since the hair still stands up in front. Pete would be a valuable lefty out of the Orioles bullpen during their ’69-’71 run as AL and World Series (’70) champs.

“Fat Jack” Fisher shares a similarly disheveled flattop look in his ’68 photo. The “level headed” look came in handy for Jack, since he could find barbers in all the cities he ventured to in his journeymen career who could “top him off and wax him up.” He served up Ted Williams’ final home run in ’60 and Roger Maris’ 60th homer in ’61.

Eddie Fisher’s ’68 card bares a striking resemblance to my high school baseball coach who we knick-named “Bristle Bob.” Eddie floated his “knuckler” for 15 seasons.

Another well-traveled hurler with Butch Wax in his locker was Stan Williams. The ’68 and ’69 cards show the freshly barbered hurler in all his “buzz cut” glory.

Perhaps this classic flattop in ‘68 kept Tony LaRussa’s head cool, allowing his brain to absorb all the nuisances of baseball in preparation for his Hall-of-Fame managerial career.

This ’68 Astros had a pair of “close cropped” relievers in Fred Gladding and Dave Giusti. Fred pieced together a decent career with Houston and Detroit. Giusti would go on to be a “palm ball” tossing bullpen ace for the Pirates.

In this ’67 Danny Cater shows off an impressive flattop. He was second in the AL in batting in ’68-“The Year of the Pitcher”- hitting .290 behind Yaz’s .301.

Hall-of-Famer to be Jim Bunning shows his adherence to the conservative baseball culture with this flattop in ’69, foreshadowing the conservative positions he would espouse as a two-term US Senator from Kentucky.

This ’70 card shows Jim Bouton’s foil in Ball Four, Fred Talbot, with his signature “waxed up” flattop. The conservative southerner took exception to the “mod perm” style worn by Pilots catcher Merritt Ranew in a memorable exchange in Ball Four.

Lou Piniella styles this “sweet,” “bristle cut” on a ’70 Topps Super.

“Tough-as-nails,” ex-Marine Hank Bauer has a “military ready” cut in this “sweaty” ’69 manager card.

Although he grew some sideburn during his time with the short-lived Pilots, Wayne Comer’s ’69 card still has a nice “burr” cut from his days as Senators property.

Phil Roof displays a really “high and tight roof” in this ’70 card. Alas, Phil would take his well-barbered noggin to Milwaukee.

The Yankees only got Charlie Smith and his “crew cut” in exchange for Roger Maris.

1969 World Series hero Al Weis is as “square” as it gets in this ’68 card.

Chuck Cottier’s look in ’69 would have made “Sergeant Carter” proud.

It’s time to stop “waxing nostalgic” and cut this “follicle farce” short. But no late ‘60s “short hair styles in sports” retrospective could be complete without showing the quintessential “flat-topped” athlete: Johnny U.!

“Skipped Parts”

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A couple of years ago I was watching the 1966 movie “Penelope,” starring (peak) Natalie Wood, when I came upon a brief scene in which Wood casually opens a pack of 1966 baseball cards. Here, read this.

One of the best minutes in movie history.

download

So last night I watched the 2000 film “Skipped Parts,” with an ensemble cast led by Jennifer Jason Leigh. Its kind of a coming-of-age story, set in 1963, in which Leigh plays the unwed mother of a 14-year-old boy. Leigh’s father is a wealthy citizen considering a run for governor in some unnamed southern state, who exiles his daughter and grandson to a house in Wyoming so that they don’t embarrass him during his campaign. Leigh is a bit “wild”, even with a son. She also has never worked a day in her life, so she pretty much has to do whatever her father says.

65962There is a scene near the start of the film where grand-dad summons the boy into a room and makes him toss a stack of baseball cards into a raging fire. Something about “setting aside all childish things.” Prior to the summons, we see the kid (who knows what is coming) palm a 1958 Don Drysdale and slip it into his back pocket. When he tosses in the stack, we see (with a bit of freeze framing, several rewinds, and several minutes of Google image searches) that the top card is a 1962 Felix Mantilla, and below that is a 1961 Alvin Dark managers card. For the rest of the stack we can just see the backs in the fire, and they include a 1961 Willie Mays. The cards looked to be in good shape, though deteriorating by the second.

All of this is soon forgotten, and lots of interesting stuff happens for the next 90 minutes. It is sort of a proto-Juno, except the teenagers (Bug Hall and Mischa Barton) are 14, rather than the 17-18 year olds in the later film.

In the final scene, which takes place a year or so later, the boy is sitting on the front porch of the Wyoming house, next to (SPOILER) a baby in a bassinet. Above the baby is a mobile constructed out of baseball cards. (How did I not have one of those, or make one for my kids?)

54f5c4680cdc4_66095nThese are also 1961 and 1962 cards. I can make out a 1962 George Alusik (took me a while to figure this out, as the cards were literally spinning in a light breeze), a 1961 Gary Geiger (I think), and, still surviving, the 1958 Drysdale.

The movie was made in 2000, and the cards were obviously meant as a period device. We never saw the kid actually do anything with his cards other than near the start when he has a stack on the table that grandpa makes him destroy. I appreciate that the movie makers made the effort to get the correct vintage, even though very few people likely took the time to notice.

I am likely going to buy this DVD so that I can make clips out of these two scenes to add to my “collection.”

Oh, and the movie’s not bad. (I had no idea about the cards when choosing it.) Its not Casablanca, but the characters are interesting and Leigh, typically brilliant, is worth a couple of stars just by herself.

Please let me know if you run across any other baseball card scenes in movies, or if you have any insight into this one.

17684

Orlando Cepeda Made Me a Criminal

Does one crime make you a criminal? Does a momentary act of desperation make you a bad person?

There’s the literary case of Jean Valjean, stealing bread to feed his sister’s children. The theft marked him for life, first with imprisonment, then with non-stop running from the grasp of the relentless Javert. A lifetime of suffering for satisfying an urgent need.

If you’ve ever tried to complete a set from packs, you know how horrible it feels as you get towards the end. Pack after pack, dollar after dollar, wading through card after card looking for that final one. In 1973, I was Valjean and Orlando Cepeda was my full loaf.

I needed a few cards to finish my set, the first set I’d assembled only from packs. I know I needed Dave Lemonds, probably a couple of others from the dreaded last series, but, really, the now rare high numbered cards were plentiful and available. (Not like the third series of 1972 Topps football, which I don’t think ever made it to Suffolk County. If they had, I would have bought them and I don’t have any!).

Orlando Cepeda was impossible to find. Orland friggin’ Cepeda, on the final leg of his career, was more sought after by an almost 11-year old kid than he was by any big league team when his card was made. By the end of ’73, when the last series emerged, “The Baby Bull” was finishing up a big comeback season as a Red Sox DH in Year One of the experiment. His Topps card though had him as an Oakland A. Did I know that yet? No.1973toppsbox

I bought pack after pack, scouring the front of cello packs – the one and three window varieties – looking at the fronts and backs in a mad search for “Cha Cha.” No luck.

73-a_zps9koebwo0

Living in Lake Grove in the early 1970’s was interesting for a boy from Brooklyn. It felt like the 1950’s still, except for the Smith Haven Mall. The mall was uber modern, very exciting in its own way. Less exciting was McCrory’s, a pretty nondescript budget department store, but McCrory’s had cards and I bought a lot of them there. Near the candy section was a three-tiered rotating wire rack of dangling three-pack cellos. On yet another trip to kill suburban time, I headed to the mall with a friend to hang out and stopped to continue my card quest.

rack pack

Spinning, spinning, top section, second section, third section, nothing – wait! Spinning in reverse to focus my eyes on what I’d seen and missed in my first go around, there he was! Cepeda, right in the front, right in the middle.

“What if I want it more than the person who has it?” Rocket Raccoon was still a few years from his debut but he summed up my situation best. I wanted, I needed, that card. I can’t remember if I had any money on me, probably not, because if I had I wouldn’t have stolen it.

I’d never stolen anything before, and didn’t quite know how it worked. I positioned my friend in front of me as I got to work. Now I didn’t take the whole three-pack, which would have been easier. Why? Because I didn’t need the three-pack, I needed the middle pack. See, I wasn’t really a thief, because I only was going to take what I needed. I tore the bottom pack off, tossed it under the display, and tore off the middle and skedaddled. Fast.

Whenever I see that Cepeda card I cringe a bit.  I have a few now, even one listed on eBay, but it’s not that one. That one is safely tucked between Von Joshua and Jim York in my set. Still, it hurts a little to know what I did, and confession is good for the soul, but only slightly. The 1973 Topps Orlando Cepeda card, number 545, is my bread and my conscience is my Javert.

1973 Cepeda front020

 

More bunting, please

“Boys, bunting is like ******* ***. Once you learn how, you never forget.” Joe Schultz from Ball Four (Since this is a “PG” forum, you can look up the missing words.)

85 butler

All too frequently baseball broadcasters will comment on “modern” players’ inability to bunt. Supposedly, every player used to spend hours “catching” the ball with the bat and placing perfect bunts at will. The exact time players stopped trying to perfect their bunting technique is never articulated; however, it had to be after Brett Butler retired since his name is synonymous with the art of bunting.

Of course much has been written about the lack of correlation between bunting and run production. Earl Weaver, the Orioles Hall-of-Fame manager, recognized the folly of excessive bunting prior to advanced metrics and famously eschewed the bunt in favor of the three-run homer. Dan Levitt presents a good case against frequent bunting in this analysis: http://baseballanalysts.com/archives/2006/07/empirical_analy_1.php

No matter what side you come down on in the bunt debate, it is true that teams did bunt more frequently in the past. All this bunting “back in the day” is reflected in the numerous “bunting cards” found in the ‘60s and ’70s. The bunter pose was usually reserved for light hitting, middle infielders with slight builds or Whippet like outfielders. These frail but speedy types could “lay down” a sacrifice bunt or “drag” one for a single in their sleep. They constantly put the opposition on guard for a “safety” or “suicide squeeze.” Occasionally, a slugger would strike the pose as well. Now, let’s look toward the third base coach, get the “sign” and “roll one down” memory lane.

68 Oyler

The weak hitting “poster child” for the bunting pose has to be Ray Oyler. His inability to hit Major League pitching is legendary; best exemplified by his benching in the ’68 World Series to get Kaline’s bat in the lineup. His lifetime average of .175 and a .258 OBP confirms his “weak wand.” Ray peaked with 15 sacrifice bunts in ‘67. My unhealthy obsession with the Seattle Pilots compels me to mention that Ray was the opening day shortstop in ’69.

70 Blair

Being a big Orioles fan in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s explains why the ’70 Paul Blair is my favorite bunter pose card. The Gold Glove centerfielder hit second and frequently used his speed to get on base which allowed the Robinson boys and Boog Powell to “knock him in.” He led the AL in sacrifice bunts in ‘69 and had a career best 17 in ’75.

68 Ruiz71 Ruiz

Giraldo “Chico” Ruiz assumed the bunting stance in both ’68 and ’71. He was a speedy utility infielder who posted 12 sacrifice bunts in ’64 with the Reds. Ruiz is remembered for an infamous incident where he allegedly pulled a gun on Alex Johnson in the Angels clubhouse in 1971.

68 Cardenas

Ruiz’s ’68 teammate, Leo “Chico” Cardenas, had an almost identical photo. The slick-fielding shortstop “moved them over” 95 times in his career.

70 Hermosa

This ’70 Angel “Remy” Hermosa shows him attempting drag bunt. Angel recorded six sacrifice bunts in 91 career games.

72 Boots

Another early Expo shown “squaring around” is Charles “Boots” Day in ’72. Boots’ stats were less than exemplary, but he has to be enshrined in the “Best nick-name Hall-of-Fame.” Since he was primarily a catcher, the bunt pose is unusual but not unprecedented.

69 Satriano

Tom Satriano’s cards in ’67 and ’69 feature the same bunt stance photo. Like Boots, Satriano did occasionally play in the field. He had 14 career sacrifice bunts.

72 Jackie Henzo 76

Shortstops Jackie and Enzo Hernandez very much fit the prototypical bunter stereotype. Here we have Jackie in ’72 and Enzo in ’76. Those of you who attended the Miami SABR Convention in 2016 had the privilege of hearing Jackie reminisce as part of the Cuban player panel.

70 patek

When the Royals dealt Jackie to Pittsburgh in 1970, they received “Little” Freddy Patek. The diminutive shortstop was the perfect player for a bunt shot. His career successful sacrifice rate was 75%.

67 Johnson

Although he would later “muscle up” and slug 43 homers for the Braves in ’73, Davey Johnson modeled his bunting technique in this ’67.

66 Campy72 Campy76-Campyjackson 7071 JacksonJackson 74

Some guys were so associated with the bunt that they were depicted multiple times in the stance. Bert Campaneris shows up three times (’66, ’72, 76). Also Sonny Jackson put down a “bunt triple” in 70, 71 and 74.

68 Fregosi69 Fregosi

Although he had some power and good RBI production, Topps put Jim Fregosi in the pose in ’68 and repeated the picture in ’69. The player boycott of Topps undoubtedly explains the usage of the same photo, but maybe Topps just liked that cool turtle neck undershirt. Jim led the AL in sacrifice bunts in ’65.

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Being the complete player that he was, Joe Morgan undoubtedly mastered the art of bunting. He doesn’t fit the profile of the light hitter, but Topps had him pose bunting nonetheless in ’70.

71 Cardenal

 

Jose Cardenal must have kept a packed suitcase since he was constantly being traded. He is shown bunting in ’71 with the Cardinals.

I could “drag” this bunt theme on longer, but I will close with a few more examples.

72 Theobald69 Quilici70 oliver68 sutherland70 Leon74 rose

As action photos became the norm for cards, actual “in game” bunts show up regularly. This ’74 Pete Rose is a classic shot.

From the ‘90s to the present there are countless examples. As long as mangers continue to “flash the signs” and pitchers bat in the NL, the bunt shot will not be “sacrificed.”

Not Hooked on Heritage

“You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.”
― Chuck Palahniuk on Topps Heritage cards

 

What is it about Topps Heritage that leaves me cold? It’s the kind of idea I’m predisposed to love, but I don’t.

God knows I’ve tried to dig them. In fact, I collected/bought, a full 2007 Heritage master set, with a smattering of inserts. I don’t even like the original cards that much but there I was, scrambling for 1958 manqués (I love that word!), short prints and all. It’s perhaps in the misery of going after that set that my disdain for Heritage began.

I do love the 1959 design and was all prepared to go at it again in 2008, but there’s something missing in the faux-retro cards. I can’t quite put my finger on it but the new cards don’t seem to put in the effort, pictorially, of the old ones. Compare the two:

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There’s something in Heritage that is fuzzy, fake, quasi-painterly, but not well-painted and not interesting. The hook is all in the design but, as this blog pointed out recently in its poll on favorite 1970’s cards, the attraction of a card goes beyond its mere design and Heritage, for me, points out that design alone doesn’t cut it. The photos need to be dynamic and appealing. It’s why cards like the 1953 Bowman set are so wonderful. There isn’t even a design to speak of; it’s simply a series of incredible pictures.

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I dutifully bought two jumbo packs of the new Heritage. Eh. First of all, the 1968’s do nothing for me. Second, the photos left me flat. I ended up giving all the cards to my 21-year old who first wanted the Cubs, then took them all for the bus ride back to college.

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The thing is he totally loved the cards! They were new to him, old in a non-defined way because he’s not bringing any old man baggage to a 49-year old design, but fresh. They may be enough to restart his interest in the hobby.

I think freshness is the key. An old design with mediocre photography doesn’t feel fresh to me, it feels tired. Maybe I’d feel different if the gimmick didn’t extend over a full set. I kind of like Topps Archive – several different old designs, with old players in new looks and new players in old looks. That works for me; Heritage most emphatically does not.