Saturday, September 6, 2025

It Was Thirty Years Ago Today.

       Fans talk about "unbreakable" records all the time.  They talk about Joe DiMaggio's 56 game hit streak as though no one could ever break it.  It is highly unlikely but statistically possible for someone to break Joltin' Joe's hallowed streak.  If you think back to the 80s - yes, a very long time ago now - folks used to say all the time how Lou Gehrig's 2130 game consecutive streak was "unbreakable." How in the 50+ years since he'd finally sat down that no one had even come close to playing that many games in a row.  It was taken as absolute certainty that it was a mark that would last forever. It's even written on his monument in Yankees stadium that it was a mark that "should stand for all time."  Enter Cal Ripken Jr. 























Oddly enough, Cal Ripken and Lou Gehrig are similar ballplayers in the fact that there is one thing about them that overshadows everything else about them.  For Lou, it was the sad fact that he got a rare disease and died so young.  But go look at his numbers, they are other worldly.  He is statistically one of the best if not the best hitting first baseman of all time.  But people remember his tragedy, not his talent.  And Cal and Lou run the same problem because of what Cal did; his streak became the defining feature of Cal Ripken Jr. and not the fact that he changed the position of shortstop forever.  Alex Rodriguez, Nomar, Jeter, all those guys, none of them would exist as shortstops if Cal Ripken didn't exist first. 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cal was a humble guy who just went to work every day.  He also won ROY, 2 MVPs, and got 3000 hits and hit over 400 home runs while winning gold gloves and a bunch of silver sluggers.  This would be great for a corner outfielder but he did it all (mostly) as a shortstop.  We all remember his victory lap that night after the fifth inning and the non-stop standing ovation he got.  We all try to forget that Chris Berman was the TV announcer. A few years ago Cal reflected on that night and he was his normal humble self:























Thank you, thank you. Just for the record, just because you stood up and clapped, I’m not taking a lap around the ball park again….Those days are over, thank you. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure what to expect from these bronze statue ceremonies. Sure these statues are for pretty good Orioles baseball players, but at the same time a familiar kind of Orioles magic started to appear, the magic of the Oriole Way. A deep-rooted connection developed over generations, made up of people who dedicated their lives to baseball in Baltimore. Sure, it’s a game, right? Well, not to this group. Baseball was, and is, about excellence on and off the field; baseball was, and is, about teamwork; baseball was, and is, about community. Baseball, in the end, was and is about family, one big family, the Oriole family.

Speaking of families, I want to thank the Angelos family for their renewed connection with the rich history of the Orioles. Thank you so much, Mr. Angelos, thank you so much, Mrs. Angelos, John and Lou for creating and capturing that spirit of the Oriole way through these wonderful works of art. Thank you very much. I am honored to look out and see myself among the players whose sculptures stand here. Through these statues, we all are reminded what it means to be an Oriole: local ownership, local pride, representing Baltimore and the State of Maryland in the best possible way for the rest of the country and the world. And, I might add, being an Oriole is also about playing meaningful games in September. Congratulations to Buck Showalter and his Oriole team for a great and exciting season, we are all behind you.























Thank you, Brady, for your kind words. Good stuff, especially given you only had 24 hours notice. Thank you to Toby Mendez, the sculptor; you really captured the essence of each person.

And thank you to my wonderful family- Kelly, Rachel and Ryan- for allowing me to pursue a dream. To share my career with them and now be a part of their young journey in life, there is no better gift.

Thank you to my mom, and my brothers and my sister- Ellen, Fred and Billy- who helped shape me into the person I am.

You know, a special thanks goes out to Wild Bill. No, not Wild Bill Hagy, but my brother, Bill. He is always there for me. He was a great double play partner in the field and an equally a great partner in our business. You know him as a high-energy, funny person, but there is no one more committed and sensitive to the needs of others than Bill.

You know, my love for the Orioles was born from my Dad. As a kid, I remember Dad putting on his work clothes, his uniform, and the sheer joy that would come over him as a result. Why did that make him so happy? Well, in his address to the minor leaguers on the first day of spring training, he would say, “Welcome to the greatest organization in baseball. If you make it through our system, you will play in the big leagues. It might not be with the Orioles, but you will be a big leaguer.”



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every day he would walk around saying, “It’s great to be young and an Oriole.”

Cal, Sr. was mine and Billy’s Dad, but he also was a father figure to many others. Eddie, Jim, Brady, not you, Earl, sorry about that. You were Dad’s father figure and a father figure to many others as well. But as we now know Earl, Eddie was your favorite.

And the other father figures from this organization that I want us to remember: George Bamberger, Billy Hunter, Jimmy Williams, Bob Giordano, Billy Miller and Doc Edwards, because I will remember them.

These ceremonies at times have been extremely emotional, drawing from the real experiences of success and failure. We celebrate success, and we also at least find out who we are in failure. These are the life lessons that play out on the baseball field. These are the life lessons learned from men like Earl, Cal, Sr., Frank, Eddie, Brooks, Jim and so many more who wore the Oriole uniform. This is the Oriole Way.

Thank you.

 

 No Cal, thank you.

Monday, March 17, 2025

Happy St. Paddy's Day.

     While the Reds were the first team to wear the green on St. Patrick's Day in the 1970s, it was that 1990 Classic card with Mike Schmidt in the middle there that showed collectors the uniform possibilities of the 17th of March.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the years, it has become a tradition for teams to wear green today (except for the A's who almost always wear it no matter what city they are in). And hey, even I am wearing my green shamrock-clad David Wright shirtsy today, lest I chance getting pinched

Monday, March 3, 2025

Marlins Legend Mike Piazza.

     They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. While I have spent a long time the last decade or so making my collection smaller and more indicative of the things I love, some of the player collections continue to spiral out of control.  Mike Piazza has always been the largest of my hoards and it seems it might never ever cease (not as long as they keep printing old time players that is).


 





















     Spring training and a very nice mailing from Night Owl inspired me to tend to a long ignored pile of around 30 Piazza cards that had accumulated but not integrated into the vastness. N.O. had included a few nice Mets inserts and it put me over the edge of having to organize. In that unsorted pile was the die-cut shiny Diamond Immortals card you see in the middle there, which made it nine original Piazza Marlins cards in my collection - that is 4 more than games he played in Florida teal - right in the wheelhouse of this blog. This also gives me an opportunity to fact dump one of my favorite things about Piazza's career: he hit only 8 triples over 16 years but that does include at least one for each team he played for, yup he hit one in the 18 at bats he took in Miami. So dumb, so delicious.

     So now I have almost two full super top loader boxes of worthy Piazza cards. Not the regular two row shoe boxes mind you, the giant long three row ones. You can see the size of the two row boxes on the right of this photo, and compare it to the two behemoths next to it.























The first box is chock full of the Mets (and Marlins!) insert cards plus all the ones post-2008 and his playing career.  There is about 600 cards in here:























The second box has all the relic and encapsulated cards in the left row and all his Dodgers inserts in the middle and right rows.  There is a bit of room left in here, illustrated by the double plastic box spacer in the back, but all it will take is one eBay or Comc binge and that bit will be gone. There is at least 300 cards in this box and maybe closer to four (I did not count as I organized).  That means there's about 1000 inserts SPs and parallels in top loaders here. And you wonder why I've never shown ALL the individual Piazza cards I have.






















Oh yeah, and these are just the fancy insert cards.  I have a 3" binder full of his base cards and lesser inserts and parallels.  There's probably 90-100 pages in there as well.


















So while Gary Carter will probably always maintain most favorite player status, he only has a single regular shoebox of fancy cards and one 2" binder.  Mike Piazza arrived on the scene as cards started to get silly and my abundance reflects that.  I will never have all of them but someday my heirs will have to figure out what to do with ~2000 Mike Piazza cards. And by then it could be closer to 3000.  I really do have a problem.

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Deck The Halls.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

'tis the season to be jolly

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Don we now our gay apparel

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Troll the ancient Yuletide carol

Fa la la la la, la la la la.





















 

 

See the blazing Yule before us

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Strike the harp and join the chorus. 

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Follow me in merry measure

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

While I tell of Yuletide treasure

Fa la la la la, la la la la.






















 

Fast away the old year passes

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Sing we joyous, all together

Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Heedless of the wind and weather

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Dave, Dick, and Dump Trucks of Money.

     Word came in baseball this week of two things I am very happy about, to the point that I am posting about it. 

     Firstly, that Dave Parker and Dick Allen were elected to the hall of fame. These two men are long overdue to be in Cooperstown. Parker was a great player with a sublime peak.  His great downfall to those pesky writers was he may or may not have enjoyed cocaine a little too much. But hey, in the 1980s, it was the law to do cocaine once you made a certain amount of money and after all, he was the first player to make a million dollars in a year. 






















 

I hate to play the if/then game when it comes to the hall of fame, but if Jim Rice and Harold Baines are in Cooperstown, then there was zero reason to keep Parker out. 























His pages in my book are also a fun way to see how my brain works in terms of organization. That first page has him all in a Pirates uni - where he began his career and made his biggest contributions as a player (Stargell was the leader but Parker was the most dangerous hitter). That makes sense. He then was traded to Cincy after the Pittsburgh drug trials, so maybe that next page would be all Reds cards, well not quite. You see mostly Reds but also cards that match cards on the other pages. 























Parker did bounce around a lot at the end of his career, didn't he?  Have bat, will travel. I am glad the veterans committee, or whatever they are calling it this week, came to their senses and immortalized a great player while he was still alive. The same cannot be said for poor Dick Allen. 























He died in 2020 and he belonged in the hall way before that.  His numbers are the perfect illustration of why you need to "normalize" for era. He did all his damage in the 60s and early 70s, when pitching dominated the league. He also committed the cardinal sin of being an outspoken black man in the 60s when all the writers were stuffy old white dudes and Philadelphia was not exactly into loving the brothers. So his family will get to enjoy his enshrinement but he will not.  They did this more recently to Ron Santo as well, so I can't decide if this move is pulling a Santo or pulling an Allen.  The opposite is waiting until a player dies because they don't deserve to reap the benefits of being a hall of fame member; this is now pulling a Rose but someday will probably be pulling a Bonds. 

The second thing that happened is that the Mets backed up the dump truck full of money and unloaded it in the yard of Juan Soto. 

Fun fact: the two world series MVPs in Mets history also wore #22






















This signing is obviously a very expensive undertaking for my hometown team to partake in and it is also unique for them.  The Mets usually make big trades for big players (Carter, Alomar, Piazza, Lindor) and then sign them to big deals but have never really signed the prime free agent for the right reasons. The only other time this happened was with the now infamous Bobby Bonilla and they did that as a knee jerk reaction to not signing Darryl Strawberry - when they should have either just given Straw the money or waited a year and paid Barry Bonds. And we all know how Bobby Bonilla turned out in Mets history.  But here they have signed the "generational talent" (they passed on A-Rod) to the biggest contract (and outspending the Yankees to do it) and it actually has a chance to work out for a change, both as a player and his fit on the team. I am hopeful, but with the Mets, it is always tainted with caution.