Ed Honcho

Today marks the end of an era, dear reader. The loss of innocence. The last dying gasps of our youth.

Frank Thomas retired. The Big Hurt’s hurt got too big. The news, while justified (have you seen him play lately? Me neither), is distressing. Our childhood stars are all growns up. But it does take me back… to a time when phones didn’t tell you who was on the other end… when television bathroom breaks came during the commercials… when computers were fancy typewriters… when I was learning, sometimes aggressively and certainly without knowing it, the nuances of capitalism.

(Begin flashback)

The 1990 Leaf Frank Thomas Rookie Card:

You lied, cheated, and stole to get your hands on it. Sure, you were mostly dealing with your close friends, but it was, as we would all soon find out, “just business.” And I had it. I bilked a buddy out of it for Zelda II: The Adventure of Link, which I’d already solved, and which glitched horribly just as the Triforce was reunited. Needless to say, he was pissed, and demanded the trade be undone. But hey, it was just business. Years later I would introduce him to the wonder of sedatives. We were square.

Alas, as was the nature of the trading card industry at its peak, the new hot thing caught my eye. The 1990-1991 Score Eric Lindros rookie card:

And at the time, I knew nothing about hockey. It might as well have been badminton, or wife-carrying. But such was the fervor around this card that I had to have it, and I parted with my Leaf Frank Thomas to get it. I would lament it for years, until, you know, I grew up and stopped caring so much (that, and the bottom dropped out of the card market with the introduction of eBay). Even today, this card sits in a box somewhere around here.

Such was the card trade’s perceived potential that our parents didn’t mind that much that we were so engulfed by it (though it had its limits… they weren’t about to let us drop over $50 on one card at a card show). And the passion around the chaos in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s meant there was a new flavor of the week monthly. Of course, there was the card that started it all:

The 1989 Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card. Just look at him, smirking at us like he knows the shitstorm he’s about to set off. What an ass. But we all had to have it. And most of us were able to reach our goals. For a card so coveted, it wound up in any collection that wanted to be taken seriously. Again, to this day, it sits in a box somewhere around here.

Soon, the art of projecting rookie careers took hold, and we were consumed with getting ahold of the next-big-thing’s rookie card before it was worth $100. It was with this in mind that we tore into every pack of 1989 Donruss cards with the desperate hope of finding this:

Gregg Jefferies’ rookie card. He was the next Pete Rose, you know. Regrettably, we didn’t know they meant Pete Rose the chiropractor from Normal, IL, not Pete Rose the career hits leader. You live and you learn. Just like we did when, the next year, we went back to the Donruss well, looking for this:

Eric Anthony’s rookie card. He was the next Roger Maris, you know. Instead, rookies today with high bust potential are called “the next Eric Anthony”. Ouch. You can get this card today for two slightly melted gummy bears, and that’s if you’re picky. We learned from these mistakes, of course. They saved us from entering the Ben McDonald, or Todd Van Poppel markets that would soon emerge, but end much the same.

Still, they didn’t all turn out this way. For instance, those of us lucky enough to get our hands on this:

Randy Johnson’s 1989 Upper Deck rookie card, were soon laughing all the way to the bank (or we would have been, of course, had the bottom not dropped out of the trading card market). And this one:

Greg Maddux’ 1987 Donruss rookie card, left us feeling much the same. Both turned into pitching superstars, and while they didn’t have the unending hype of Anthony or Jefferies, a savvy collector could see their talent early on. And what do you know? I had, and still have, both of them.

Of course, these were easier to obtain on our budget, as they could be found cheaply (or what seemed like cheaply, until you did the math) by purchasing packs of cards and getting lucky. The established stars… the truly desired cards… were very much tougher to get. Which means, of course, we wanted them even more.

The Holy Grail of these cards, of course, was the 1986 Donruss Jose Canseco rookie:

Seems laughable now, I know, but in our defense, we were stupid kids. And we didn’t know he was on pace to break every home run record because of steroids. Apparently, no one did, or at least they wouldn’t admit it. And take a moment to note the wispy ’stache. Steroids do that to a man? Should we be suspicious of wispy ’staches the world round? Hmmmm….

And this was a real success story for yours truly, dear readers. This was the only time I managed to score a craved card in a pack. What a day that was! Sure, the packs were slightly more expensive than most due to the potential to get this card, but they were still much less expensive than the card itself. And I got it! And I still have it, running punchline of a subject be damned.

Then, of course, there was Canseco’s brother in bash:

Mark McGwire’s 1984 Topps rookie card. Interesting, as it came out in a special set for USA baseball players 3 years before McGwire would make his big league debut. This made it rarer, and thus, a must have. And you guessed it, I had it. Alas, it would play a role in a stormy incident of my youth. I traded it to a friend of mine for this:

Darryl Strawberry’s 1983 Topps Traded rookie card. It was equally rare, as it had come out in a supplemental set late in the 1983 season. And at this time, while McGwire had taken the league by storm as a rookie, Strawberry was an established superstar. My friend, a devout Mets fan for some reason, surprisingly agreed to the trade, but immediately had buyer’s remorse, and began to push for an annulment. No. It was just business. But he played the ultimate trump card for youngsters in that day… he went to his father… who gently suggested to me that things would be best if they went back how they were. This got my father involved, who took their side. “But how am I supposed to learn about business in the real world!”, I likely argued. I eventually capitulated, and things went back how they were.

Karma has a funny way of working things out. Strawberry would fade into oblivion under a cloud of drug use and fading talent, while McGwire would go on to set the single season home run record. Ten years ago I had come out smelling like roses. Those roses would soon die and rot. And my friend and his father would eventually give me my first taste of jetsetting around the country attending Major League Baseball games (the Mets, but still). We were square.

Thankfully, he would never trade me this:

Dwight Gooden’s 1984 Topps Traded rookie card, which I tried many times to squeeze out of him. I suppose, thanks to Gooden’s tandem plummet with Strawberry, this was the trading card gods telling me to avoid trading with my buddy. Or for Mets.

And while we’re still on the subject of steroids (or at least somewhat near it), I loaded up on Barry Bonds’ cards:

With this 1986 Topps Traded version being the most desirable. I had his every card from 1987-1990, and just knew they would eventually pay for my child’s schooling. Then his head started getting bigger, and his ass started getting bigger, and he started getting pissy. And now my child has to go to Front Range Community College, Larimer campus. Thanks a lot, Barry.

And who could forget this freak of nature:

Bo Jackson’s 1986 Topps Traded rookie card. The only question at the time was do you get his baseball, or football card? I settled on this. Others settled on his football card. We were all disappointed.

Which brings me to other sports. Baseball cards, while the most popular and well-established, weren’t the only cards around. No, the burgeoning football, basketball and hockey card collectibles were gaining traction, and some even created as much buzz as any baseball card.

I had actually dipped my toe in early, and managed to come away, at a very young age, with this gem:

A 1986 Topps Jerry Rice rookie card. I didn’t really know who he was at the time, I just liked the green and white horizontal stripes. But I quickly learned (I actually had to go back through piles of commons to see if I had it… I did). You could say it was my first valuable trading card, though it wouldn’t be until a couple of years later that I realized it. As is typical of my sentimentality, I still have it in a box somewhere.

There was also this rare treasure I was able to procure through argumentative shenanigans and value-stretching:

David Robinson’s 1990-1991 Fleer Rookie Sensation rookie card. This was the Robinson card to have, as it was much less common than most. And everyone just knew he was going to be a star, and he held up his end of the bargain (though, it must be said, he was owned by 1983’s class, but by this point all of those rookie cards… Jordan’s, Barkley’s, Olajuwan’s… were much too expensive for a child just starting out… Robinson was the next best thing).

From 1990-1992, I focused most of my efforts on football cards, at least as it pertained to buying packs. It wasn’t until 3 or 4 years later that I would find myself combing back through all the commons looking for this card:

Brett Favre’s 1991 Upper Deck rookie card. I found it, and placed it in the appropriate sleeve. I suppose I could have saved this article for Favre’s retirement, as he still technically qualifies from my card-collecting days, but by this point girls were becoming much more important in my life than trading cards, and as you surely know, they’re pretty much mutually exclusive. My collecting had shifted to a more private endeavor.

Aside from rookie cards, there were the rare error cards that drew everyone’s interest, the most famous of which was this one:

The 1989 Fleer Bill Ripken “Fuck Face” card. The reasons must be obvious. First, it was rare, as Fleer pulled it as soon as they learned of the gaffe. Second, I was in my formative years. “Fuck face” on the end of a baseball bat was the most hilarious thing I’d ever seen. I managed to wrangle it from a particularly conservative acquaintance of mine, but alas, once my parents saw it, was forced to pass it on myself, to which I responded “you’re just a couple of fuck faces!” It didn’t go down as hysterically as I thought it would.

I did manage to hold onto one error card, though:

The 1990 Donruss Juan Gonzalez reverse negative card. And it was a rookie! There was a time when Gonzalez was considered one of the best players in the game, which shot the value of this card through the roof. Regrettably, and as you surely know, it didn’t last. He went the way of the Cansecos, and Palmeiros, and… hmmmmm…

But of course, no reflection on my card collection would be complete without the crown jewel of the group:

Barry Sanders 1989 Score rookie card. Not only because it was highly sought after and valuable, but because Barry was, and remains to this day, my favorite player. And I still have the card, hanging on a wall somewhere (in a case, of course… I haven’t forgotten everything).

So be well, Frank Thomas, and know that your retirement has affected many a middle-aged man in strange, contemplative ways. Life has smacked us upside the head, and we’re grasping for reminders of our youth, apparently.

Man, when Chevy Chase goes, I’m not sure how I’ll react.