Night Owl Cards

  A co-worker friend of mine passed away earlier this week. I won't say he was a close friend, but he was a good guy and a diehard Dodger fan. Dodger fans are difficult to find in these parts, and we would talk about our team out in the work parking lot for far too long. The saddest part for me is he was able to enjoy his retirement for just three years, probably less than that because he spent two of those years battling cancer. I cannot get over that. It's not a happy time. I had a post cued up and ready to go that reflected my mood, a kind of "face the music" post that would likely bring the room right down. But I need to start becoming more aware of the days of the week. It's Friday. People want to read and hear and feel happy things on Fridays. I need to learn that. So what do I do to make myself happy? There are a few things: 1. Send out some card packages ✔ I forced myself out in the rain and did that earlier this afternoon. 2. Listen to th...

That's the first line of a note in the latest fantastic card package from Dave. "A little more of everything," is the best way to sum up the contents. I could easily break this up into six different posts, but what fun is that? No, you need to see this in its totality. Gaze upon the splendor. Marvel at the magnificence. Bathe in the bounty. We're going to cover a little more of everything. I'll start with this: That's a rack pack of 1987 Topps, carefully selected for the Fernando Valenzuela all-star glossy showing in the first panel. See, Dave takes me seriously when I say I want to try to complete 1987 Topps passively. I don't want to intentionally buy a 1987 Topps card. And I certainly don't want to put up a want list. I'd like to see how close I can come to doing this. I'm looking forward to opening this rack pack and seeing how many I need. Random Dodgers, most of which I'm sure fill holes (we'll see later). Yes...

Somebody somewhere may have wondered why night owl hasn't entered $30 A Week Habit's contest to win a 1954 Topps Duke Snider card. It's vintage. It's a Dodger. Where is he? Well, as much as I'd like to own two 1954 Topps Duke Snider cards so I can compile a week's worth of posts boasting about my '54 Snider dupes until I annoy everyone with a blog, one of these babies is plenty. I happen to own this card already. It was sent to me over the summer. In fact, that card just went on a little tour of the house with me. I took it out of its abode, a smallish blue binder and set it down on the hamper while I was taking a shower (yes, I let a '54 Snider in the bathroom, exposed to dampness and all of the havoc that a bathroom could cause to a piece of cardboard, and it wasn't even wearing a toploader. Call the baseball card cops!). Then I took it through the living room, where the dog eyed it hungrily. And I scanned it and it's sitting on the des...

I wasn't around for the 1955 Dodgers. I missed the amazement, the astonishment of that day, when before fans' disbelieving eyes, the Dodgers were finally winning a World Series. "Wait 'Til Next Year" were just words in a book to me, devoted to an event that took place years before I knew what baseball was. "Next Year" -- 1955 -- was something I never experienced. But I had my own "Next Year". It didn't involve my favorite team, nor was it as long a wait. But it was exhilarating nonetheless. My attachment to the Kansas City Royals doesn't come from living in the Midwest or because their colors are similar to the Dodgers or because I want the Giants to lose when the World Series starts. It's not even because I remember the Royals' victory in the '85 Series. No, my attachment began in 1976 when the Royals took on the Yankees and were demoralized by Chris Chambliss' home run off of Mark Littell. The Royals then me...