Where Have The Deep Cuts Players Gone?

On my way home from work, ye olde Ipodde threw on “Dirty Little Girl” by Elton John for my ears. Now, you may not be familiar with that track. Heck, I had really forgotten about it. The song wasn’t a single; not even a B-side. It was side 3, track 3 of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”.

A true deep cut. A true sign that the artist and / or album was truly someone / something of quality and distinction.

Do we really have those in music anymore? And does anyone miss them?

My posse in high school loved the Cars. They loved the hits, but they loved the deep cuts more. How many people can quote”Down Boys” or “You Wear Those Eyes”? Our group could. But in this epoch of single track purchasing and alternate methods of recording procurement, do deep cuts matter? Are they relevant?

Same with baseball cards. Do we really have deep cuts anymore?

It used to be that every set had bunches of guys like Mr. Dybzinski. The scrubs. The fill-ins. The dreaded utility guys. You needed them.

Now part of it may be the way baseball rosters are inanely cobbled together now. It used to be you had 15 players and 10 pitchers (sometimes 16 and nine). Then it went to 14 and 11 and that seemed sensible.

But now we’re at 13 players and 12 pitchers and some idiotic teams go for 12 and 13. And those pitchers are usually on a conveyor belt between the majors and the minors. The transaction pages are filled with players being DFAd and being called up.

The 1973 San Diego Padres (60-102) used 12 pitchers all freaking season, and two of those (Bob Miller and the wonderfully monikered Frank Snook) pitched in 18 games each and another (Fred Norman) was traded halfway through the season to the Reds. The other nine guys carried the load, and lost a shit-ton of games.

This year’s version of the Padres have already used 26 pitchers. Yes, 26. Twenty. Six. Pitchers.

With all of these pitchers yo-yoing up and down and the short short benches, there aren’t a lot of scrubs around.

Coupled that with the limited amount of cards in the base set (660 for 30 teams) and it’s no wonder that the Topps releases seem like stars, pitchers, and prospects and that’s it.

No room for the Dybzinksi’s of the world.

I think that’s a sad thing, actually. Not every card has to be a star or could-be-star. You gotta have the regular folks and the ones on the margins to represent a baseball ecosystem. Just like in music you need the singles and the deep cuts.

At least I think so.

Oh, well, time to look for my Dybzinski’s and listen to some deep cuts. Rock and roll and all that.

This Looks Shopped, I Can Tell By The Pixels…

Is there sturm und drang out there about this card in Series 2, since Manny never will play a game in Oakland finery?

If there is, zip it.

Zip! It!



Why should we deny our children the same oddities that we had back in the day?

You know, like showing Pete Broberg as a Mariner?

Even during the spring, it was assumed that Manny would trod out onto the famed field (ok, field) in Oakland Alameda County Coliseum (as I’ll call it because I want to have Howard Cosell’s voice in my head saying that right now…) and play at least a few games for the Athletics.

I mean, what else did they have besides Yoenis and a bunch of maybes, could-bes and idunnos?

Well, it didn’t quite turn out that way. Oakland’s offense is pretty blah, but it’s not because of the OFs and DHs that are playing now. (Mr. Barton? Mr. Suzuki? Step forward, please.) Manny wasn’t going to be Coco Crisp’s replacement, because as funny as it would be to see Manny covering CF, the pitching staff would have an armed revolt and flood Billy Beane with Voros McCracken’s manifesto on what a pitcher can control and what he can’t control.

So Manny wasn’t an Athletic in real life, but he will be forever one in cardboard.

And I think we can all deal with it.


Bastard-O In Love?

Apologies to any Black Flag fan for that title pun.

I’m still in transition. I did buy a bunch of 2012 Series 2 and finally mailed out a bunch of packages. Of course, in my Series 2 haul I received a bunch of cards that I should have sent out with those packages. Ah, well

The love of my life has ensconced herself into my apartment in Florida. A good thing, of course, but now my collection is in the garage because of space issues. And out of sight, out of mind? Work weary? Transition weary? Whatever, I’m not getting the Chris Matthews patented ‘tingle up the leg’ when I opened my packs of Series 2.

I’m still thinking about selling a bunch of cards that don’t suit my fancy anymore. Part of me is thinking I need to sell my entire collection to help get out of debt with the 1% and the revenooers, but this will be the third time I’ve started and stopped my collection world. Do I want to think about that, really? I have a great start on the cards from the 70’s that started my love again and some of the Heritage and other sets I really like

So I think I may just try to unload the Bowman’s, some of the smaller UDs, stuff like my Cracker Jack and maybe my Gypsy Queen and A&G and go mostly base card and Heritage.

Oh, heck I dunno. I’ll ponder some more.

Meanwhile, of course, I’ll take anything off my want list and can send you my excel files if you’re feeling generous.

And despite the cramp in my collecting style, I am loving being in love and having my love live and laugh with me.






Decisions, Decisions…

I’ve had a positive life change occur over the past couple of weeks, but now I am in re-assess mode.

“What am I doing with my collection?” is one of those things I am re-assessing. Maybe it’s my financial situation – the fact that I am waiting for Series 2 and don’t have that much to spend on other cards right now to complete some sets.

I have some cards out for some trades that I need to pack up and ship out, but I don’t have the motivation to do it mainly because my motivation is on other (good) things. My reading habits have changed as well. I’m just glossing over some blogs when I used to devour the minutiae.

Then there’s work, which is also a positive but a brain sucker like those little things on the ceiling of that one Star Trek episode.

So, while I think about stuff and things, enjoy Rick Jones’ 1977 card in all of it’s airbrushy goodness. The painted chest hair is especially wondermous, isn’t it?

We’ve come a long way, right?

Wait, don’t answer that.