Night Owl Cards

  Here we are: One of the years of my past that is lost in the black hole of time and continuing memory loss. 1996 will be known to me for two things: the year I bought a house and the year the most hated boss of my life left town. Aside from a few assorted song favorites (Oasis, Garbage, Smashing Pumpkins, you know the ones), that's all I can recall. But what about the baseball cards? Yeah, about that. 1996 was also the first year I did not buy a single card since the time I knew what a baseball card was more than 20 years prior. So, how am I supposed to evaluate the cards from this year? I sure don't feel qualified. I've said this for the last couple of editions for this series. The enthusiasm is low. And in typical '90s fashion, the cards make it difficult. How do I trim it down into something manageable and coherent? For 1995, I limited the sets I was reviewing to only those that could muster 500 cards in their set. But in 1996, Topps pulled a fast one and issued a ...

This was my expression a week or so ago when I hauled in from the porch an incredibly heavy package, opened it up, and saw six USPS priority boxes inside. The return address on the outside said the package was from Johnny's Trading Spot, and I was quite sure that I had done nothing to cause John to send a monster box my way. But you know how this goes -- that is if you're lucky enough to have received monster boxes -- the daunting nature of such a package is quickly erased by -- OH, BOY, SIX BOXES OF CARDS! Yay, me! That's what I felt like. And I started to get to work. John pointed me in the right direction with a few notes. The one I saw first referred to the middle two boxes, which he said are "the real ones for you." OK. Who are the other ones for? I figured I better start opening. I chose one that made some sort of reference to Braves. I was pretty sure I read it wrong. Braves? There's no one who wants Braves in this house -- ...