Night Owl Cards

I wasn't going to do this post because I've basically done it already (the perils of being in your eighth year of blogging). But on that very post, I rediscovered a comment requesting more cards of players chewing their cud. So, three-plus years later, departed blogger, your wish has been granted. Going through my brand new complete 1976 SSPC set, I discovered card after card of a player enjoying a fat wad of tobacco. This pleased me quite a bit because it confirmed what I knew about ballplayers when I was growing up. Part of what made the game of baseball baseball back then is that players (and managers and coaches) chewed tobacco. I admit I didn't know much about tobacco, other than that my mother hated it and players seemed to really, really like it. And that spitting was COOL! In the '70s, tobacco-chewing was the background of baseball, like vendors calling out their wares, or jets flying over Shea Stadium. It was part of the experience. And, then -- under...

With all the hubbub over that situation in Boston, I was wondering whether I should post anything today. Nobody seemed to be interested in somebody's baseball cardboard anymore. They just wanted to talk about bombs and shootings and cops and CNN and "24." And then I realized that was only my Twitter timeline -- where nobody can stay focused -- and that we're not all in lockdown. Card bloggers know they can still blog about cards, thank goodness. And I thank you all for continuing to show cards and not suddenly transforming into the Police Scanner Blog. But I want to acknowledge Boston in some sort of card-related type way. I have affection for Boston. My brother used to live there. His former in-laws still live there. I have enjoyed my time there immensely, which is not something I can say about every big city I have visited. Yet, in the last 10 years or so, I have encountered too many people trashing ... well, mostly the Red Sox. But by extension, the fans ...

(From author, teacher, speaker William Arthur Ward: "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I may not forget you." That, my friends, is an ode to appreciation. Time for Cardboard Appreciation. This is the 24th in a series): This card is here for no other reason than that it was front-and-center in my mind as a kid when I played baseball in the backyard. Even though Carbo is obviously taking a warm-up cut, I envisioned myself as Carbo in the photo. I thought he was admiring a titan blast. I grew up playing baseball behind my house, which had yellow siding and sat on a hill, at the corner of two streets. The dimensions of the improvised baseball diamond we played on weren't exactly drawn to scale. Home plate was the walkway from the back patio to the street. First base was the near pole on the swing set. The trip from first base to second base was about half the distance from home...