Night Owl Cards

The other day, Shoebox Legends featured a $20 repack box that contained a fair amount of fun and interesting for the money. I don't spend $20 in one shot on current cards much anymore. If I'm buying repacks, I prefer the hanging rack packs for under 10 bucks. If I spend $20 on cards, I'd rather go online and get something I know I want. But Shoebox's repack box offered a red signature autograph and few other things that made me find one myself the other day and open it up. I did it so eagerly that I can't show you the packs in the box window like Shane did so expertly. This is all I've got: So, you'll need to know the 20 packs I opened just in case you want to do the same. Here they are in boring old list form: -- 3 packs of 2012 Panini Triple Play -- 1 pack of 2013 Topps Opening Day -- 1 pack of 2013 Topps Update -- 2 six-card packs of 2013 Allen & Ginter -- 3 packs of 2013 Bowman Platinum -- 6 packs of 2014 Topps (Series 1 and Ser...

That's right, I just turned "jurickson" into a verb. This is the stuff that I can't do in my real writing job. You are the beneficiary. I'm thinking of using this term for those times when you pull multiple versions of the same player in a short period of time, don't give a damn about the cards, find someone who does give a damn about the cards, and get something wonderful for those damn cards. (Sorry about all the "damns"; it's been a rough week). This phenomenon has happened to me more than a few times. I suppose with the wide variety of parallels and the sheer number of sets that almost duplicate other sets (Chrome, Opening Day, minis, etc.) that it's bound to happen. And I think that this occurrence needs a name. So, "jurickson" or "pulling a jurickson" or "YOU GOT JURICKSONED" is now part of the English language. Go and use likewise. The inspiration for all of this is, of course, is some ball-pl...

A couple of years ago, Topps came up with something called "cognac" parallels. A lot of us dubbed them " liquorfractors ," which was a much more appropriate name . The cards were pretty cool because although they never scanned well, they were a sight to see in person. Throw that card under a lamp and the light would bounce off the surface like an inebriated stained glass window. They were nice because although they didn't look like much just sitting there, they had a greater purpose. I'm pretty certain that this isn't the first time this reflective-glass technique has been used -- there were actual stained-glass-themed inserts in the '90s that reappeared again in this year's Archives -- and I'm sure it's been around since refractors were born. But the liquorfractors seemed to have spawned a recent trend of putting what look like shards of glass on the surface of your cards. Panini calls its Cooperstown parallels, like this o...

It's not often that I receive an offer that I can't refuse. Sure, there are plenty of "do this or else ..." moments in my life. But I'm talking about something in which both ends of the equation are "oh, boy, where do I sign up?!" A couple of weeks ago, Kenny "Zippy Zappy" contacted me about another deal. He said he had a handful of cards for me and all he wanted in exchange were some cards of Alex Rodriguez. I stared at the email blankly. "Hmmmm, that's strange," I thought. "I know Kenny. I've traded with him before. I've seen him trade with others. But goodness this sounds like spam." A-Rod cards. He wants A-Rod cards? I read the email again. "I'd love to trade for any A-Rods (I know this will shock you but Alex Rodriguez is one of my favorite players)." Yeah, that's got to be spam. But just because I'm a nice guy, I sent a reply to Kenny -- if that is his real name -- a...

As a young adolescent eager to consume all that the adult world had to offer, I first came across the word "platinum" as it referred to million-selling record albums. This was a novel concept at the time. Using "platinum" to refer to album sales had been around only since 1976, and was instituted because more people were buying records, surpassing the previous "gold record" standard. Because it was new, and records were what teenagers did in the late 1970s, there was nothing cooler than a platinum record. And when you heard that a record by a Peter Frampton or Fleetwood Mac went platinum, well, throw that disc on the turntable and crank it up. Today, I can't tell you if a platinum record means anything. I think there's "diamond" or something that's better than platinum, but I don't know for sure. I'm not even sure how they even classify sales now that everything's digital. So, these days, "platinum" t...