Category: OLD SPORT SHORTS (Page 7 of 68)
An old guy’s perspective on all sports
July marked the end of the MLB trade deadline, so I was keeping an eye on the wire while we traveled. The Cubs picked up a reliever, Nate Pearson, and All-Star Isaac Paredes in exchange for popular Christopher Morel. The White Sox, after 14-straight losses and only 27-wins in 108-games had yet to make a move until the last few days… pitcher Erick Fedde and Tommy Pham to the Cards, along with Michael Kopech to the Dodgers in a 3-way swap, while the Cubs dealt Mark Leiter, Jr. to the Yanks for futures. The Sox got more prospects in exchange but nothing to rescue this pitiful season.
As the trade deadline loomed, Pham was back with the Cards, former teammate Paul DeJong, also with the Pale Sox, went to the Mets, and Jorge Soler was reunited with the Braves. Danny Jansen of the Blue Jays, sent to the Red Sox, could end up playing for both teams in the same suspended game. This has yet to happen in the 121-year history of the MLB. Injury-prone Eloy Jimenez is moving his medical baggage to Baltimore.
The chump White Sox lost their franchise record 15th, no 16th, no 17th, no 18th, no 19th, no 20th, no 21st straight game, swept by the Mariners, Royals, Twins, and A’s, dubiously besting Baltimore’s 1988 swoon. It beat their previous mark of 14 set less than two months ago, another of the Top-40 all-time losing streaks in MLB history (tied at #38). It’s been that kind of year! They matched the 1988 Orioles with 21 consecutive losses after becoming the seventh team in MLB history to lose 20 games in a row. They join the company that includes:
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1961 Philadelphia Phillies, 23 games
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2024 Chicago White Sox. 21 games
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1988 Baltimore Orioles, 21 games
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1969 Montreal Expos, 20 games
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1943 Philadelphia Athletics, 20 games
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1916 Philadelphia Athletics, 20 games
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1906 Boston Americans, 20 games
The pain and embarrassment finally ended on the threshold of the 1961 Phillies record with a 5-1 win over the A’s. Jonathan Cannon gave up one run over six innings to stave his personal drought while helping the White Sox to their first victory since early July. One straight win! Never mind, “One Straight Loss” thanks to the A’s, followed immediately by the firing of Manager Pedro Grifol, just in time to play the Cubs, another two losses and perhaps the beginning of another record slump by the chumps.
There is a wealth of knowledge in my neighborhood. Retired accountants, bankers, lawyers, brokers, and doctors – men and women. I learn something new every day or benefit from their expertise when they assist the HOA on contract negotiations. They might help save money on insurance, zoning, or investments, for example, to keep our annual costs down. I often wish I had skills like this, but my media background doesn’t necessarily apply. What do I have to offer?
Sadly, my chief interest and wealth of knowledge these days seems to be baseball cards, for what it’s worth. It’s like going full circle back to childhood and skipping all those years of doing business. In the back of my mind is the hope that I uncover something valuable, but maybe all that matters is that it makes me happy. I keep thinking of my childhood neighbor, who hit me square in the forehead with a rock, requiring stitches. He was a little older and had an impressive assortment of baseball cards and enviable knowledge. As he and his mother came to see me in bed after the accident, they brought me a box of unopened baseball cards as an apology. I’m sure it was the mother’s idea! It took all the pain away and made me want another hit in the head. The baseball cards are long gone but the scar is still there.
Baseball cards tell a story and finding them like a treasure hunt. I have about ten massive binders of them, carefully organized by team and player. All of them are valuable to me, regardless of condition or worth. They bring back memories and inspire me to learn more about the history of the game. I have several neighbors that feel the same way. I spent yesterday afternoon with one of them, who made it his business. For many years, he was a distributor for Topps, the major brand in baseball cards that has bought out everyone else. They are currently capitalizing on the current resurgence of the hobby, that also extends to all other sports, video games, celebrities, and even Disney.
He eventually established his own trading card business, having recently sold it, but keeping an active role while in his 80’s. I wanted to drool when he showed me a recent shipment of classic cards that he bought for resale. We’re headed to a local card show today, but just to look, and not as an exhibitor, as is his norm. He’s off to the National Sports Card Convention in Cleveland next week. I wish I had the mad money to attend and participate, but I continue to get satisfaction on a smaller scale, by hanging with neighbors like this. No different than when I was a kid.
If I had an extra quarter growing up, I’d hop on my bike and head to the nearby grocery store to buy five packs of cards (5-cents each). All was right in the world, as I’d sit on the curb and open them like a Christmas package. Back then, they also contained a flat, pink, slab of bubble gum, so the scent became associated with the cards, as I’d begin to organize them once I got back home, sometimes putting together All-Star teams. Then, we’d get out the Whiffle ball and bat to play Home Run Derby as our favorite player. I’d imagine myself as Mickey Mantle, until I found a new hero, Sherm Lollar. These days, I’d be Kyle Schwarber or Shohei Ohtani at the plate.
I’ve been striking out a lot recently while participating in what they call “Card Breaks,” sharing the cost of buying several boxes and paying to keep the cards of the team of your choice. I’m not willing to invest in the higher-priced Dodgers or Yankees, so I tend to stick with the lower-priced White Sox or Cubs. Naturally, all the more desirable autograph and relic cards never seem to come my way. I prefer the random draws, but luck is never in my favor, so I’m still stuck with the less desirables, but content with the Hope.
Despite my better judgement, I keep buying baseball cards. It’s a sad addiction that now seems to be my sole retirement hobby, besides writing about it. I check the Topps Now website daily and recently subscribed to their e-mails, as if I don’t get enough already. I’m also a “Top Fan” of the local Blue Breaks Card Shop and participate in their weekly Hobby RIP Nights. I guess you could say that I now have so many baseball cards that the store owner is starting to display them for me. Most all of my Shohei Ohtani cards (and I’m not even a Dodger’s fan) are stored in a glass case there, hoping for a buyer.
I am a White Sox fan, and follow the Cubs, but most of those player cards have dropped in value to the point that they are worthless. The Sox are easily the worst team in baseball, having lost their 65th game last night. Tim Anderson, following the trade to Miami, was recently designated for assignment, Jose Abreu, traded to the Astros, is washed-up. Yoan Moncada is injured while stars like Luis Roberts and Eloy Jimenez are hitting .230 – no need to dwell. My extensive collection of Sherm Lollar merchandise is unwanted. The Cubs are in last place in the Central division and all my favorites like Bryant, Rizzo, and Baez are playing for other teams.
Last week, on RIP Night, I traded the Blue Jays for the White Sox. I might have had a valuable Vladimir Guerrero card, instead I got a Tim Anderson, just hours before he was sent back to the minors. This week in “The Break” I drew the Twins and Royals, hoping for Jose Miranda, Bobby Whitt, Jr., or Joe Ryan, players that I really don’t care about. I also can’t explain why I bought a Topps Now Miranda yesterday after he made a historical twelve consecutive hits. I guess I did it for trade bait, but I’ve yet to find anyone to trade.
I’ve used the word “Break” in reference to baseball cards during several recent posts. Allow me to have an internet “expert” clarify what it means: “Breaking refers to the practice of opening multiple boxes or cases of a product at the same time, and then distributing the cards to a larger group of paying customers. Breakers sell ‘slots’ to their breaks, and customers receive a defined portion of the opened product. In some cases, the customers will pay for a specific team, which entitles them to any card belonging to a player from that team; in other cases, the customer is simply given a randomized allotment.”
“Breaking has become a major business within the trading card world. Breakers operate websites and often stream their breaks on social media platforms. For high-stakes breaks, it isn’t uncommon for thousands of people to tune in and watch even though they aren’t paying for a slot or receiving any cards.”
I’ve admittedly experimented with Fanatics sites like Mama Breaks and Black Tie Breaks to try and understand this phenomenon. It reminds me of playing fantasy sports where you pick your players, hoping that they perform well. I never had much luck with that game either, because I get too emotional when I pick my players or teams, like the White Sox and Cubs. It’s all gambling, disguised as a hobby, but I’m addicted. In reality, anyone that I pick is likely to “break” an arm or leg.
My eyes are still sensitive to sunlight, hence the bulky, black sunglasses. I went out to fix both yard fountains this morning in the cooler temperatures and found myself breathless, another indication that I need to continue the gym work to get back into shape. After I’m done writing this morning, I’ll walk to the fitness center and do the stationary bike, rowing machines, and weights that are now my daily routine. I often feel spent on the walk back.
Our electric fireplace was finally installed yesterday but will need some finishing tile. Because of our concrete walls, the size of the plug did not allow it to fit flush with the wall as expected. We watched the flames dance and felt its warmth that was not necessary on another hot, humid Floriday day. It’s just another home improvement project that was crossed off the list but then added another to-do line.
I went to another baseball card trade night last evening with expectations of leaving with fewer numbers in my collection. Instead, I exchanged two cards for twelve, adding to my bulging binders. Tonight, I am participating in an on-line break, having drawn the Toronto Blue Jays. I promptly traded for the White Sox, the worst team in baseball, for the second worst. This tends to be my luck in these games of chance, but at least the Sox are my team through thick and thin. With unwrapped cards dating back two years, maybe I’ll get a good break, but more likely there will be a valuable Blue Jays card revealed.
Breaking is the latest phenomenon with card collectors. Instead of buying a box of cards, you share the contents of several boxes with others, adding variety and value. You pay a fee and either pick your team or rely on the luck of the draw, depending on the offer. Each pack of cards is unwrapped separately during an on-line event. Unlike the old days, there is no bubble gum prize, just rare variations like parallels, special finishes, numbered, and game-used relics that add unique value to the standard player’s traditional issue. These also command higher prices on the resale market, when at one time only supply and demand determined prices. This was the case with Honus Wagner when his tobacco cards were destroyed because he did not appreciate the association. This left very few on the market and determined its multi-million-dollar worth.
I’m not sure whether I like to watch the unwrapping ceremonies over opening them myself. It’s always like Christmas when a sealed pack of cards is opened, at least for me. Opening a full box is even more thrilling but the investment is sometimes prohibitive. This is why sharing the cost has become popular through these lotteries, plus multiple boxes add to the drama. I’d rather have complete control and keep all of the cards, but these chance breaks like tonight better fit my retirement budget. Go Sox!
We have dinner tonight with another card collector and his wife. He once owned his own trading card business, so it will be interesting to see what he has in the way of White Sox merchandise. I find it amazing to see how card collecting interests have exploded in the past few years with football garnering the most attention Hobby cards like Lorcana and Pokeman have also attracted younger interest. There are also hockey, auto racing, basketball, history, celebrities, soccer, and every other sport as options, depending on taste. I’m sticking with baseball in search of that illusive Honus Wagner. Give me a break!
I’ve been to a lot of Cubs games in my lifetime, most at Wrigley Field but some at Sox Park during the Crosstown Classic. I’ve seen them in Phoenix during Spring Training and during Covid had tickets for games that were cancelled. Most importantly, I watched them win a World Series game in the Wrigley stands thanks to my wife and her ticket contacts. Since that time, I rarely got to see them play, living so far away and without access to tickets. Our retirement from the media business has limited our opportunities to see free concerts and games. However, my wife and I have been on a bit of a road winning streak these last few years.
We saw them win in San Francisco with the entire family in 2017 and again in 2018 at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Finally, in 2021 we all went to Pittsburgh for a 9-0 victory. Last night, it all came to an end in the bottom of the 9th against the Rays at Tropicana Stadium. A walk-off 3-run homer by Brandon Lowe sealed the loss, a first for my son in many years to going to Cubs games, even without me. I was privileged last night to watch the game with “Three Generations of Cub Fans,” including my grandson and my wife who bought us a brick with that inscription, embedded in the walkways around Wrigley Field. My grandson isn’t much of a baseball fan and in fact bought a new Rays cap just before that final blow. My son’s wife and two daughters did not join us, so their Cubs victory streak is still intact.
I followed some other baseball last night while sitting in the stands, gorging myself on hot dogs, pulled pork nachos, and dip-n-dots. As you can see, not all was lost. We had good family bonding time and a 2-0 lead most of the game. Our area, after a persistent draught, has had a deluge of recent rainfall, while heavy showers made it challenging to get to and from St. Pete. I was glad my son was driving. Too many unknowledgeable neighbors and friends asked if the game was rained-out, not realizing that it is a covered stadium. It made for pleasant, dry and airconditioned conditions. In other MLB action, two of my favorite players, former Cub, Kyle Schwarber had two home runs for the Phillies last night, while Shohei Ohtani of the Dodgers also homered. Sadly, my White Sox lost too, their 51st of a season that’s not even half over!
“Take me out to the ballgame,” always makes a game memorable, as we all sang along arm-in-arm. “Root, root, root for the CUBBIES,” drowned out the home-team Rays chant, so a lot of fans went home disappointed thanks to the “L” rather than “W.” There are two games left in the series, but we won’t make the drive again this year, and it will be several more years before the Cubs schedule will allow them to return. Who knows when we’ll see the Cubs play again, but thanks to our Braves Spring Training facility next door, there will be much more baseball in our lives. Go, Cubs, Go!
We got a pale and baked version, instead of the much-anticipated fried chicken last night, although my wife, in her cowboy boots, still enjoyed the line dancing. Several of our neighbors were there to join in the false advertising complaints against the homeowner’s association. The caterer, Publix, was apparently to blame. I left, with a bad taste in my mouth, in the middle of a rainstorm to take care of the dogs, taking advantage of the opportunity to get away from the crowded dance floor.
The rain has continued this morning, while chair yoga has been cancelled because the instructor is not feeling well. I don’t think she was there for last night’s chicken. We are headed to St. Pete tonight for the Cubs game thankful that it’s an indoor stadium. My son bought the tickets, so I’m in charge of food. Maybe they’ll have fried chicken? However, I’m more inclined to Ballpark Franks. The dogs get to go to Schnauzerville, although we are driving back after the game.
I have a wallet full of cash after yesterday’s successful visit to the coin shop. It was an easy transaction and I got pretty much as expected. Trust me, it will all be gone (and more) after this weekend’s family trip to Disney World, if not at the concession stands tonight. Orlando is the first stop on our way to Portland to visit friends and more family. It will be good to get away from the hot, steamy Florida weather in favor of the cool Northwest. Pizza and wine are on the agenda, as we celebrate my wife’s birthday with her oldest daughter and husband.
I’m headed to the gym again today, a daily routine that has replaced running. I’ve been there every day religiously for over a month now along with some pool workouts, despite seeing the chiropractor about my painful leg issues. Walking still continues to be a problem, limited to only about twenty minutes. There will be a gym where we’re staying in Orlando, but I’m concerned about being on my feet all day in the Mouse Park. I should also be able to use my son-in-law’s equipment while we’re in Portland. Hopefully, three more visits to the chiropractor this week will help resolve the cramping and Charlie Horses so I can get back on my feet, please!
When I was a kid about 10 years old, I became enamored with an older neighbor who collected coins and baseball cards. He showed me a 1910 Lincoln penny and told me about the rarer 1909-S-VDB. I was immediately fascinated and decided to begin a collection of my own. To make a long story short, I’m still collecting baseball cards but haven’t added to my pennies in years and never found a 1909-S-VDB. I’ve searched everywhere and have had several opportunities to buy one. Now, they are worth over a $1,000 and decidedly not worth my investment. In fact, I could just buy a fake one and who would know but me!
As a result of baseball and coins, the number 10 became special to me. In fact, my favorite player, Sherm Lollar, who played in the 1959 World Series, wore #10. I still collect his memorabilia, but coins, even dated 1910, are no longer a fascination. As a result, I’ve decided to sell all my coins and maybe buy more baseball cards.
I currently have a Lincoln cent collection, Washington Quarters (state editions), and an assortment of change that my mother-in-law gave me. She hoarded Kennedy half-dollars, silver dollars, $2 bills, Susan B. Anthony dollars, and wheat pennies. They were kept in these cloth bank pouches that tie at the top similar to what you see in old time bank robberies. I’ve had these bags in my sock drawer for years. As I’ve searched through them, I’ve also found some Barber and Mercury dimes, Liberty & Franklin halves, a few Sacagawea dollars, Buffalo nickels, foreign currency, and a couple Morgan & Ike dollars. It’s a random assortment of coins that need a new owner.
There’s a coin shop down the street that I’ll be visiting next week, probably to or from my chiropractor appointments. I’ll be lucky to get $1000, with a face value of $325, unless I’ve missed something during the course of valuation. It kept me busy yesterday, while there’s a sense of satisfactory closure to a childhood chapter of treasure hunting. I’m done hunting and gathering, it’s time to simplify and organize.
I’ve spent the last week reorganizing the Mike Museum. There’s now a small, framed painting of Emmett Kelly, the famous clown, done by my grandmother 50-some-years ago. I’ve also been watching the Bill Walton 30-for-30 documentary, “The Luckiest Guy in the World,” so I got down the Trailblazers basketball, wondering if it had his signature – no. It’s actually from the 2007-2008 season, long after their 1977 ABA Championship. All the Indy 500 memorabilia is back in place after last week’s race brunch. The home office is now a hodge podge of these items that I call “my museum.”
There are actually very few personal things of mine on display. Most are hidden away in binders, but there are a few sales and Toastmasters awards on the shelf, along with some of my dad’s. My pledge father’s Sigma Chi fraternity paddle is hung on the wall next to my wife’s Pi Beta Phi sorority paddle. The brass 1919 National Cash register, a reward from my first job, is not filled with money but rather dog tags, wrist bands, wine corks, playing cards, batteries, bottle openers, and other silly memories. Yes, I’m a hoarder, but everything is somewhat organized. Thousands of ticket stubs are encased behind glass. Books fill the spaces between models and bobbleheads, signed by their authors. A world globe reminds me of our travels. Jerseys, photos, and autographs are framed on the walls, even a Portland Timbers championship scarf carefully hung, plus baseball bats and balls housed in plexiglass cases. All my first-name heroes like Sherm, Reggie, Walter, Yogi, Ernie, Bobby and Babe line the walls and shelves. My favorite teams like the White Sox, Cubs, Hoosiers, Blazers, Ducks, Beavers, Boilers, Bears, and Pacers are all represented around me, as well as the venues where they played such as Comiskey Park and Assembly Hall.
The most important things, however, are mostly in binders, hidden away from view. There are thousands of sports cards, press passes, pennants, pins, photos, clippings, magazines, and posters. To many people this would all be junk, but to me it’s a lifetime. I spend many fulfilling hours keeping this stuff in order, as the museum curator. The Sherm Lollar collection, for example, includes over 300 objects from 1945 to present. It may very well be the largest in the world, but no one probably cares but me. Few people know who he is, and the baseball Hall of Fame has certainly forgotten his catching accomplishments. Today’s sport fans certainly know of Shohei Ohtani. His collection in my museum now includes in excess of 200 baseball cards. “Excess” is probably a good word to describe my hobby and Mike’s Museum, where admission is free.
Another Memorial Weekend is in the books – my 73rd and counting. While remembering those we’ve lost – we mourn yet another in Bill Walton, basketball star, personality, and Grateful Dead fan. He was a young 71. My first indirect contact with him was on March 24, 1973, when he scored 17-points in a 70-59 UCLA win over my Indiana Hoosiers. I watched from home after injuring my hand changing a flat tire. It was not a good day.
Before the announcement of Walton’s passing from cancer, we had already attended the annual Venice Symphony Memorial Day tribute at Cool Today Park. As has been the tradition these past two years, our Indianapolis friend who now lives in Vero Beach has come to visit. It was a beautiful night, capped with fireworks over the stadium. My wife and I have now seen 3-and-a-half of these shows since having moved to Florida. The first year we only count as half since we watched from the parking lot in our convertible without buying a ticket.
We returned to the house Saturday night after the fireworks to watch the Pacers “choke” in Playoff game one against the Celtics. The Cubs also lost to the Cardinals, the Sox got beat by the Orioles, the Dodgers lost to the Reds, and the Hoosiers eliminated in the BIG tourney. Our friend’s father once played for the Dodgers, so it was not a good sports day for either of us. My wife, who could care less, took the dogs for a walk while the two of us ranted.
Sunday was race day and we had invited a house full of people to watch. Unfortunately, there was a rain delay, but no one seemed to care with plenty of food and drink to ease the pain. The weather was ideally hot here in Florida, so we had plenty of space to entertain 40-people with tables on the lanai. It was reminiscent of the many times that we had visitors back in Indiana, stuck in our home waiting for the rain to stop and the race to start. The only problem there was that these were overnight guests, and it was sometimes days before the green flag dropped.
Our party guests on Sunday were mostly all neighborhood acquaintances that retreated to their nearby homes once the afternoon had ended. The race did eventually run in the evening, so there were only the three of us left to watch. It was an exciting finish and our favorite driver, and son of a friend, finished a respectable 10th. The Cubs lost again to the Cardinals, as did the Sox to the Orioles, and the Dodgers to the Reds.
Holiday Monday finally arrived with more baseball losses and the Walton shocker. Although I never met Bill in person, I’ve certainly followed his career. My Portland friends knew him from the time of his Trailblazers championship, so they were lamenting his passing in our text messages. We enjoyed the day by the resort pool, eating leftovers from the party. I left early to tend to the pups. A Zoom call with Indianapolis friends filled the evening before a final Pacers loss on top of more Cubs and Sox shortcomings. At least, the Dodgers mercifully were rained out against the Mets. They will all try again today, but the Pacers are done for the season.
With a memorable, long weekend behind me, I return to Chair Yoga this morning, followed by another trip to the gym. With my surgery, I have not been to class since January, while the gym these past few weeks has given me some stamina. I could tell how sadly out of shape I am, struggling breathlessly to negotiate all the stadium steps the other night. I obviously have a long way yet to go in recovery. The girls are headed to Boca Grande beach this afternoon after Aqua-Fit class. I’ll be in charge of the dogs. We’ll dine in tonight but tomorrow night will be our friend’s 69th birthday celebration. We’ll then probably do it all again next year for her 70th – just another of many a “Memorable Memorial!”