Three In Five.

       I wanted seven games and a ton of classic moments out of this World Series and I got it, even if the Royals didn't win in the end.  What a terrible time to realize I don't have any Madison Bumgarner cards.


I guess Panda and Posey will have to do.



It is impressive to win three titles in five years but I think that San Francisco should vacate this particular title because I am not sure that Madison Bumgarner is human.  He is 4-0 with a 0.25 ERA in 36 World Series innings; that pretty much puts even Bob Gibson to shame.  And now the long 113 day slog until pitchers and catchers begins.  I didn't want this game to end.

Game Seven: The Royal Treatment.

       I have covered game seven before and I don't think I can do any better this evening.  At the beginning of this series, I asked for seven games and I got them, courtesy of a 23 year old dynamo Yordano Ventura. 

The Finest card on top is all I got.  Deal with it.

Game six was a 10-0 blow out, not unlike the 11-0 game seven from 1985 that brought the Royals their last championship.  I'd like a little more drama this evening, but hey, as long as Kansas City gets their victory, I'll take it any way I can get it - as I am sure they will too. 

Football '14 Week 8: One Last Chance.

       Well, I am on the road again.  I have spent the last few days here in New Orleans drinking too much and meeting celebrities and now, finally, it is game day. 

I am ready for a do-or-die game against the Packers on Sunday Night Football; I really will be waiting all day for Sunday Night...

You might look at that photo and wonder what is draped across my tickets...

Somehow, I forgot my lucky stadium day helmet (I blame leaving at 4am on Thursday).  So I had to improvise and yesterday I came across this glorious thing at the Black and Gold Shop in Metarie.  And I must say, it makes me look fabulous.  Besides, what fun is football without silly hats?

At 2-4, the Saints need this win in the worst way.  In a poor division, 9-7 could easily mean a playoff spot.  If they do find a way to blow this game as they have so many this season, I do have a back-up plan.

I got a hatbox full of junk wax cards to go through (gotta love the antique shops in this town), which, after a drink or three, should yield some amusing results.  But I hope it doesn't come to that.  I want a dominating win followed by an evening of late night decadence.  Luckily in New Orleans, it is hard to tell the victory celebrations from the defeated drownings. 

Blow My Mind Your Royal Flyness.

       I was kinda stumped for a player that was both a Royal and Giant, at least one that I had a page of.  Then a little serendipity happened yesterday when I looked at Barry Bonds' page in my retired player book...

                                                                       look ^^^^ right there.

Vida Blue!  Of course!  Well, in the grand scheme of things, I am sure he would rather forget his underwhelming time in Kansas City (cocaine is a hell of a drug...).  And yes, there are others who have done this but this was the only page I found that had a player with both teams (though now that I look at that list, I am pretty sure I could have gone with a Gaylord Perry page as well). 

As you may or may not know, before these playoffs started, I threw my support behind the Kansas City Royals.

I am not about to spoil a good thing while it is going so well or jump off a bandwagon that is oh so comfy.  Since I have no true rooting interest in this series, I just want a seven game set full of cliffhanger games and things that amaze and astound.  And if the fans of a sadsack mid-western team can get off a 29-year schneid, all the better. It will give me some hope for my sadsack east coast team.

***

Oh, curious about the title to this post? Well, everyone can't help themselves but to use some line from, or even debase, that "Royals" song by Lorde, but why has no one embraced (or denounced) anything by the venerable indie band They Might Be Giants?  Everything right is wrong again.

A Little Food For Thought On A Monday Morning...

In 2001, Barry Bonds, a player in his late 30's who had come back from many injuries, including a career threatening one, broke one of his sport's most hallowed records.

Bonds was vilified; his motives questioned, his work ethic dismissed, rumors and hearsay reported as fact.  His word was not taken.  The media made up its mind and demanded asterisks, or worse, just decided the record didn't count. 

In 2014, Peyton Manning, a player in his late 30's who had come back from many injuries, including a career threatening one, broke one of his sport's most hallowed records.

Manning was celebrated;  his motives commended, his work ethic lauded, any questions about him was dismissed as sour grapes and hate.  His word was taken as gospel.  The media made up its mind and decided that he was everything right with a sport where so much has gone wrong recently. 

***

Am I missing something?  This can't just be a black/white thing, can it?  Is it just the way PEDs are viewed in their respective sports?  I mean, Manning plays a game where HGH is ingested like so much candy, so are we to believe that he came back from an injury that would cripple most people through only a lot of hard work and a good diet?  And all any hack writer can ever talk and/or joke about is the size of Barry Bonds' head.  Have you fucking seen Peyton Manning's head?!?!?

The fucking thing doesn't even fit inside his helmet!

Look, I am no Barry Bonds apologist.  I am a baseball hipster, I hated Barry Bonds way way way before it was cool.   But why has no one even questioned Peyton about the comeback from his injury?  Why has no one pointed out that Manning is playing as well or better at age 38 than just about any other quarterback ever (and that after a catastrophic injury)?  Most QBs are absolutely finished by age 36-37 - Unitas, Montana, Marino, Fouts, the list goes on and on.  Yet Peyton keeps breaking records and playing better than he ever has and all the media can do is fall over themselves to fawn over his greatness.  If no one cares about PEDs in football, why are they the end of the fucking world in baseball?  I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.

Football '14 Week 7: I Still Just Can't Even.

       I am like an overwrought teenage girl right now, football and all the nonsense from earlier this year still has me with a bitter taste in my mouth.  I will watch the Saints today, but I probably won't enjoy it.  In the meantime...

Here is a little reminder of better times; this magazine is my latest Listia pick up and it goes nicely with my Super Bowl coffee table book.  Living in New Jersey, I wasn't able to get all the cool local swag back in 2010, so I am overjoyed when I find it for free online.  And yes, those are Christmas Ornaments on the left, but I am sad to report they have been left out all year.  Don't judge me!

The Giants Win the Pennant!

A little piece of useless trivia for you (ethnic name assumption edition). 

Travis Ishikawa was born in the US (Seattle to be exact).


Yet Bobby Thomson was not (he was born in Glasgow Scotland).

The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!

Football '14 Week 5: October (No) Surprise.

       I want to apologize to all five of you who look forward to my weekly football posts.  The awful things that have been swirling around the NFL this year combined with the beyond awful way the league has reacted to them has made my stomach turn and left me unable to enjoy football very much.  Now that the calender has turned to October, as usual, the NFL will start inundating us with their pink regalia.

I find it in poor taste that the league pays such lips service to something as important as breast cancer and then goes out of its way to profit off of it without actually giving much to charity.  This year they are "toning down" the pink to try to lay low until all the bad pub dies down and they can go back to being the money-making juggernaut they usually are.

Now, if the NFL had any gumption or dignity, after all the Ray Rice, Greg Hardy, Ray McDonald, Adrian Peterson (isn't it sad that I have to list so many and could keep going) stories, they would have switched off the pink this year and made it purple for domestic violence awareness, which also has its "month" in October... 

But sadly, there is no shady charity for the NFL to exploit and then profit from on colorized memorabilia, so that would never happen.

October Fools?

       One of the crazy reasons my blogging has dried up recently is my building anxiety over having so many half-written posts.  Seems more and more, I scan some cards and start writing and for whatever reason(s), I just stop writing.  I don't think it is a mental block, per se, but the more it happens it seems, the easier it is to let happen.  The whole point of starting the blog was to have something simple to accomplish during the day and showcase my collection and writing and now, it would appear, like most things in my life, I am way way overthinking things.  It is a vicious cycle I am now trying to break.

Sitting amongst those 34 drafts are a variety of topics: trade posts, mailbags, clever over-the-top card commentary, design and brand analysis etc. But also, there are some very timely things like player debuts and retirements and the like whose time has come and gone.  You will probably never get to hear what I had to say about the sad goodbye tour of Mariano Rivera (too bad I never got around to Jeets either) or how my hopes and dreams for Travis d'Arnaud compare to the other Mets great catchers.  There are even some holiday themed posts that I could get around to (next year, of course) and I was reminded of one while reading Night Owl's post yesterday.  He misspelled a name - a rarity for a newspaper editor - one Sidd Finch.  I suppose he could be forgiven since Mr. Finch never really existed in the first place except in the mind of George Plimpton and his classic Sports Illustrated piece "The Curious Case of Sidd Finch."  All of this connects through an insert set from last year's Allen and Ginter called Curious Cases.  I remember seeing that set name before the product was released and thinking 'man, Sidd Finch had better be part of that.'  Unfortunately, the checklist is mostly conspiracy theory hokum and mystical mumbo jumbo.  I decided last March to rectify that with my first homemade original card:

While I am no cardboard Picasso (very few are), not to mention that this isn't exactly an original idea, I really like how the card turned out.  It is self evident that if there was anyone ever who needed to be in an insert set, it is Sidd Finch in Curious Cases.

So for whatever reason, I had this all ready to post for this last April Fools Day but never finished it.  And there it sat, a draft only really appropriate to post on one day of the year and I missed it.  But then today I thought, what better way to fool you fools than to post an April fools post as far from April fools as you can possibly get?  It is this kind of thinking that is gonna get that draft folder emptied in no time.