Frankenset Page #13 WINNER -- 1989 Upper Deck #117 Gary Pettis (15 votes)
Baseball cards are not often meant to hurt one's brain, but this Gary Pettis sure does.
How the photo on the back of Pettis's 1989 Upper Deck card wound up on his 1989 Upper Deck card is beyond me. But as expected, it came out on top in last week's frankenset voting, taking 15 of 40 total votes for the easy win (next closest was Joe Ferguson's 1975 Topps PATP with nine).
If anything, it's a card that's kinda overshadowed by the famous 1993 UD Mike Perez that pretty much features the same trickery, albeit with the front of the card -- which is odd since the Pettis came out four years prior.
The Random Number Generator was nice enough to spit out another low-numbered page this week, so we'll be taking a look at Page 8 (#s 64-72) of the frankenset here tonight.
Let's see who we're dealing with.
2015 Stadium Club #64 Brett Gardner
I'm just here for the fan reactions.
1994 Leaf #65 Jose Lind
Talk about a perfectly timed photo.
2016 BBM Fusion #66 Norihiro Nakamura
A stellar bat flip from Japan, sent to me from Mr. Zippy Zappy, of course.
2013 Topps Opening Day #67 Marco Scutaro
Turning two with the funny cars.
1991 Upper Deck #68 Kurt Miller
Pitching at sunset.
1999 Just #69 Chin-Feng Chen
A rare dual mini-collection hit (anthems & kids).
1993 Stadium Club #70 Casey Candaele
Double dip!
1995 Upper Deck Minors #71 Ryan McGuire
Just shoot me.
1973 Topps #72 Ron Reed
I've never counted, but '73 Topps may well be the single most represented set in my frankenset(s), and cards like this should tell you why.
That about does it for this week's page. The polls are now on the sidebar.
It's the moment you've all been waiting for: time to announce the winner of my seven-year anniversary contest!
Also, for no reason other than to drag the suspense out a bit, here's a list of my seven favorite players who wore #7 for the vast majority of their career:
1) Kenny Lofton
2) Mickey Mantle
3) Joe Mauer
4) Steve Yeager
5) Craig Biggio
6) Ed Kranepool
7) Mark DeRosa
Thus, from our pool of 45 entries, the winner of my Loftonian Anniversary Contest is...
...Nick Vossbrink, who will always have a place in my heart and my collection for sending me the only card I've ever seen of Goose Gossage as a Giant.
Nick: feel free to either DM me on Twitter @dimeboxman or email me at nickpecucci AT sbcglobal DOT net for stuff you collect -- I'll add as much as I can to the vintage lot & the other randoms in your contest prize. Everyone else, thank you so much for participating, but most of all, thanks for reading.
As expected, last week's frankenset page boiled down to a two-horse race.
Paul Reuschel and Bob Ojeda duked it out for bragging rights of the (still incomplete) final page of my frankenset. Ojeda took an early lead and never let go, earning 16 votes to Reuschel's 13 (of 34 total) for the win. (The other five cards received a grand total of five combined votes.)
That's the Tommy Lasorda effect for you.
Thankfully, the Random Number Generator picked a lower-numbered (and complete!) page this week -- we'll be looking at Page 13 (#s 109-117) of the frankenset tonight.
Let's meet the nominees.
1992 Topps #109 Roger Craig
Managers can pull off throwbacks, too.
1993 SP #110 John Burkett
Pitcher hauling ass.
1993 Upper Deck #111 Brady Anderson
Sorry, Brady: that one ain't coming back.
2017 Stadium Club #112 Michael Lorenzen
(Pitcher) Michael Lorenzen going deep for his dad.
1996 Collector's Choice #113 Jose Rijo
Jose Rijo, Frankenset MVP.
1997 Collector's Choice #114 Charles Johnson
Get to know your catcher.
1975 Topps #115 Joe Ferguson
Vintage play at the plate!
1993 Upper Deck #116 Matt Nokes
Between the halo effect of the bat, the cut-off camera guy, and the random military dude in the background, this is as close as I've seen to a surrealist baseball card.
1989 Upper Deck #117 Gary Pettis
On his 1989 Upper Deck baseball card, Gary Pettis is showing us...the back of his 1989 Upper Deck baseball card?! What is this sorcery?
That's it for this week's frankenset page: the polls are now on the sidebar.
It gives me pleasure to announce that today is the seven-year anniversary of "Dime Boxes," and a golden anniversary at that -- I had the wild idea of starting a blog on December 7th, 2011.
I cannot stress this enough: it's an honor and a privilege to know you fellow fanatics of the blogosphere. If this blog has had a tiny fraction of the effect that all of you have had on me, well, then I'd consider that a success. I'm even more thankful for those who've stuck with me despite the fact that my blogging output has been reduced to a shadow of what it once was. I still love it every bit as much as I once did, but I no longer have the time or energy I once did.
It's a bit hard to believe I was all of 19 when I started this blog -- seems like an eternity ago now, but I'm forever thankful to blogging, that one constant in the whirl of early adulthood.
So, how does one properly celebrate a golden anniversary? With a giveaway, of course!
In addition to a handful of other random items, as well as whatever I can dig up of the winner's preferred players/teams, I'll be giving away the aftermath of my dad's vintage antique store find from a couple months ago. It spans from the '50s all the way to the late '70s (about 80 cards in all). While there's a fair amount of commons and/or low-grade singles in there, you'll find a few stars and HOFers mixed in as well.
All you have to do is leave a comment on this post to enter (with great apologies to my readers from up north, I'm gonna have to limit this to US entrants only due to shipping costs). Make the comment as silly or as generic as you want, as long as you comment, you're in. I'll randomize the entrants a week from today (December 14th) and select a winner. No need to pimp or promote or any of that stuff -- in fact, I prefer you don't, since I want the winner to be someone who, you know, actually reads my blog.
Once again, I thank you all for coming along for seven years of this wild ride I call a blog -- here's to the next seven.
I spent the first 26 years of my life thinking that my small, suburban hometown had absolutely no impact on the world of professional baseball.
That changed a couple weeks ago, almost purely by accident. One table at the card show I attended last month had a few stacks of '80s minor league cards nestled inside a dime box. I was excited because a) you rarely see those anywhere, much less for a dime, and b) maybe there'd be a big name in there! A Ryno, a Tony Gwynn, a Rickey Henderson, who knows...
Turns out there wasn't -- in fact, the only card I bought of an actual player (mixed in with a few trainers, batboys, and PR guys of '80s minor league lore) was one James Walewander, seen here during his days with the Glens Falls Tigers of the Eastern League.
The only reason I bought the Walewander was because I recognized him as "The Dead Milkmen guy."
As hard as it might be to believe, the Dead Milkmen, of all bands, are actually mentioned on the back of a baseball card, a fact I will never tire of telling the world since the Milkmen have ranked among my favorite bands since high school. And it's all thanks to Jim Walewander, a one-time sparkplug Tigers middle infielder who gained notoriety for being a fan of the group, enough to warrant a mention on the back of his '88 Score rookie card.
But all things considered, that was all I knew about Jim Walewander: he was that dude who liked the Dead Milkmen.
Flash forward to the following morning, as I was flipping through the previous day's card show finds -- it was then I came across the minor-league Walewander again, and honestly I'd forgotten I'd even bought it.
I flipped it over, somewhat absentmindedly. And there, in the stat heading, was something that made my head spin. Home: Harwood Heights, IL -- HEY, that's my hometown! (While I technically live in a town called Norridge, it and Harwood Heights are basically regarded as a single city -- my high school's name, for instance, was Ridgewood, a mashup of the two names.)
I couldn't believe it: a professional baseball player once lived in my hometown! JIM WALEWANDER, the Dead Milkmen guy, once lived in my hometown!
But the story didn't end there: a little digging revealed that Walewander attended Maine South High School, my mom's alma mater.
Maine South has produced a few big-leaguers, Dave Bergman and Adam Rosales probably the biggest names of all (non-sports alums include Hillary Clinton, by the way), but the ones I knew about went there either before or after my mom. But upon doing the math, I figured out that Walewander would've been a senior when my mom was a freshman. And sure enough, after I begged my mom to dig out her freshman yearbook, there he was: Jim Walewander himself! (Last row, second from the right.)
My mom doesn't remember anybody named Jim Walewander, which isn't surprising -- her graduating class was about as big as my entire high school -- but still, it's fascinating to think that she and him may have crossed paths in the halls at some point.
Not surprisingly, Walewander's also mentioned as a star of the varsity baseball team -- that's him in the small action shot on the right side of the page, and he's also third from the left in the middle row of the team photo.
At this point, the discovery I'd just made bordered on the unbelievable. My hometown isn't what you'd call a sporting hotbed. As far as I know, no one from my high school has ever played professional sports in any capacity. People barely know what baseball is around here. And until just recently, I never thought anyone who'd so much as stepped foot in my hometown ever wound up playing in the big leagues.
Guess I can't say that anymore.
Naturally, I did what any sane person in my situation would do: I decided then and there to start collecting him, and immediately went to the 'net to track down all his attainable cards.
For better or worse, Jim Walewander's catalog is a small one, and I pretty much managed to scoop up his complete run of mainstream cardboard. Aside from a brief burst of glory in his rookie year with the Tigers -- during which his Dead Milkmen fandom became known and the majority of his cards were produced -- he didn't do much in the majors.
Walewander played sporadically with Detroit in 1987-88 (his 88 games in '88 would be his career high), and flamed out after cups of coffee with the 1990 Yankees (9 games) and 1993 Angels (12 games). I don't think there's any cards of his Angels tenure, but there is a scarce Topps TV single of him on the Yankees (along with a handful of Columbus Clippers minor league singles), which is immediately going on my white whale list, of course.
From what I can find, Jim Walewander retired after brief stints in the Angels' and Marlins' systems in 1994 (I was two years old!), thus putting a cap on a career that wouldn't affect my life until over two decades later.
In the end, I have Jim Walewander to thank for what I'm about to say, what I've long dreamed of saying: my hometown is mentioned on the back of a Topps baseball card!
Home: Harwood Heights, Illinois. This card, and the millions of overproduction-era copies of it, will exist for all of eternity. And while I would've been happy to forever think of Jim Walewander as the "Dead Milkmen" guy, he's more than that now.
He's the pride of Harwood Heights, the guy from that little speck on a map I call home.
Frankenset Page #32 WINNER -- 1998 Stadium Club #284 Sean Berry (10 votes)
While voting was relatively close last week, pilot-to-be Sean Berry pretty much led start to finish, collecting 10 of the 34 total votes to, ahem, fly to a relatively painless victory over his next closest competitor (Brian Dozier, 7 votes).
I'm with the masses on this one, if for no other reason than I can honestly say I've never seen another card quite like it.
The Random Number Generator, in its infinite wisdom, spit out #74 this week, also known as the very last page in my frankenset (#s 658-666).
I was hoping I wouldn't have to show this one until a bit later on in the series, perhaps when I'd filled in a those empty slots (#s 662 & 665). It's the only page to feature more than one empty number, which I admit looks ghastly.
But nevertheless, here we go: let's take a look at the very last cards in this Second Dime Box Frankenset.
2015 Topps #658 Tsuyoshi Wada
I find it a bit disturbing when teams wear throwback jerseys that I remember from my youth.
1991 Score #659 Dann Bilardello
A fine play at the plate from one of my favorite sets of the early '90s (though I still have no idea why Dann Bilardello spells his first name with two N's).
1990 Upper Deck #660 Paul Assenmacher
In for the anthem shot on the back -- unfortunately my cardboard OCD doesn't allow me to put cards backside-front in my binder.
1990 Upper Deck #661 Walt Terrell
Night card!
1978 Topps #663 Paul Reuschel
Not all professional athletes look like professional athletes.
1994 Fleer #664 Ricky Gutierrez
Double dipping with a Jeff Bagwell cameo.
1992 Upper Deck #666 Bob Ojeda
As the story goes, the founders of Upper Deck were Giants fans, which explains why Dodgers were assigned the #666 slot in several of the set's early checklist -- in a way though I'm glad because in addition to the '91 UD Mickey Hatcher that closes my first frankenset, this Ojeda/Lasorda combo is a fantastic way to wrap things up.
That just about does it for this week's truncated page (hopefully I'll get those empty slots filled soon!). The polls are now on the sidebar.
There seems to be a wave of nostalgia floating around the blogs right now -- or at least more than usual.
By way of a couple excellent packages I've recently received from Kerry of "Cards on Cards" fame, I thought I'd get in on the action and give you a glimpse at the high school years of yours truly, Dime Box Nick. It's really not much of a story, and my teenage years don't deviate greatly from the norm -- I was a shy, awkward teen who didn't register much on the high school totem pole. And I was generally happy about that.
But unlike a lot of people who strayed from cards in their adolescence only to come back to them later, I collected all throughout high school -- I spent many a US History class daydreaming about binders and nine-pocket pages.
Night Owl sent the nostalgia train running in my head, but Mr. Fuji wrote a post recently that got me to thinking about the literary travels of my high school years.
For those who don't know, I majored in English in college and loved every minute of it. I spend almost as much on books as on cards these days. But unlike cards, I didn't really get into reading until a couple years ago thanks to a gen-ed college English course I randomly enrolled in as a schedule filler.
I can't help but think that I might've come to love literature a lot sooner had my high school reading list been better. We read a few solid "classics" (Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby), but most of our reading was comprised of books I didn't like and/or had no impact on me. I didn't discover many of the greats until well into my college years (Brave New World, Invisible Man) and some I had to pick up all on my own (Fahrenheit 451).
Also, I must admit: I've never read Walden -- the canonized nature walk featured on that excellent A&G insert from Kerry (along with Steel Worker Dude!).
I was a voracious collector in high school, but I sure didn't collect the same way I do now -- my ability to create want lists, for one, was scattered at best, which means I regularly come across cards from my high school years (2006-10) that I still need.
My want lists are far from perfect these days, but at least I have a general handle on what I have and need from newer sets -- makes things a whole lot easier for people like Kerry who are nice enough to peruse them.
Back in high school, I collected a certain crop of players and that was it -- I almost never decided to induct new dudes into my binders.
Had I still collected that way, chances are none of these cards (and dozens of others) would've ended up in my collection, and that'd be a darn shame.
Jim Abbott is one of those few players who I've actively collected all throughout my youth, adolescence, and (relative) adulthood -- Kerry added a new Abbott to my binders with that Stadium Club gold parallel.
Mini-collections weren't a thing for me in high school, and it wouldn't be until much later that I'd even think about starting to chase cards of guys turning double plays (all the wasted years!).
One of the biggest differences between high school me and present me is the simple fact that I have a blog, and send and receive many cards to and from so many terrific collectors.
Much of my youth was spent on the trading forums, which in relation to the blogs is like having a tape deck in your car. The forums made me happy at the time, but looking back, I kinda wish I had all the time and money I spent on those trades back. Book-value-for-book-value swaps (what a card "books" for is the forums' national anthem) are extremely dull and time-consuming, no way for a teenager to spend his youth.
Good luck getting anyone to send you stuff like Acuna and Soto rookies (and not to mention a slew of other 2018 Archives needs) out of the graciousness of one's heart on the forums, like Kerry did here on the wonderful world that is the blogosphere.
I bought so many packs of new stuffin high school -- and while I might still buy more than I should these days, at least the knowledge that most of the commons will eventually fall into my binders via trades and dime boxes curtails some of that excess spending.
One thing remains the same, however: The Sandlot is still my all-time favorite movie, and has been since I was about five or six years old.
That's why it was such a joy to complete this year's Sandlot insert set from Archives, (with a big assist from Kerry for sending me these two!) -- it's a good reminder that not everything has to change as one moves into adulthood.
I'm not actively chasing these Sandlot coins, but I'll most definitely take any I can get my hands on, like this "Ham" coin Kerry was nice enough to send my way.
Mine, I suppose, is a common tale. There are things I miss about high school (friendships, study hall) and other things I most assuredly don't (algebra class, pep rallies). There are things I wish I would've done (read!) and other things I wish I wouldn't (don't ask). I don't know if nostalgia is the right word for how I feel about high school: I think of it more as just a general interest in watching time pass.
But as I look back, I'm forever grateful that the collecting bug stuck with me -- who knows where my collection would be now had I wasted those precious teenage years on petty distractions like football games and broken hearts, right?
