So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

Dotty Kamenshek, 1993 Ted Williams Collection My Dotty Kamenshek card is probably my best 1940’s style female baseball card. Again, probably. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Dotty Kamenshek? Who the hell is that? I mean, I’ve heard of Kammie Kamenshek…are they related?” Excellent question. Turns out, Dotty Kamenshek actually is Kammie Kamenshek. Allow me to explain. Just because she had ovaries did not make Dorothy Kamenshek immune to the innovative brand of professional baseball nicknames, which simply involved adding an “eee” sound to the end of someone’s first name, or as some kind of variance of their last name. For example, Jorge Posada is often referred to as “Jorgie” (“Georgie” for Caucasians), Tim Hudson is “Huddy,” Jeff Francoeur is “Frenchy,” Curt Schilling is “Douchey,” and – to bring it back around to where I started – Dotty Kamenshek, obviously, is Kammie. In another lifetime – one in which professional female baseball had taken over the sports landscape as it has in ...

Jose Canseco, 1991 Score Jose Canseco was a Master Blaster. This may seem obvious from the above card, but not many people are aware of just how masterful Jose Canseco was at blasting. Allow the comic book-hero description on the back of this card to elaborate: Perhaps the most devastating and feared offensive force in baseball, Jose can destroy timid pitchers. Ummm, “perhaps?” Jose Canseco feasted on the endless carousel of timid Major League pitchers placed before him. You know the type - trembling as Jose approached the plate, pooping their pants, and curling up in the fetal position immediately after tossing Jose a 68mph meatball, only occasionally working up the courage to strike out Jose Canseco a mere 158 times in 1991. Yeah, that kind of timid. And just so you know, the use of the term “destroy” is quite literal in this case. In 1988, Jose Canseco hit a 700-foot home run off of Baltimore’s Doug Sisk, causing Sisk to spontaneously combust. But wait, there’s more: Tremendously s...

Beginning this week, my new column will start appearing in both of our papers…hooray beer! Here’s the gist: We publish two weekly papers here, The Glendale Star and The Peoria Times. My new column will be called – get ready for pure genius – “Big Time Sports, A-to-Z.” The “A-to-Z” part is a subtle nod to the state of Arizona! Sometimes I really don’t know where I come up with this stuff. It’s a gift, I guess. Anyhoo, for those who don’t know, the Arizona Cardinals play IN Glendale, and their new stadium is like, right down the street from where I work. They’re a huge part of the community here, and I’ll be “covering” them throughout the season. Besides Cardinals’ losses, I’ll also be covering other things that happen at the stadium, like Monster Truck Rallies and college admission exams! Well, not so much the latter, but the former is a strong possibility. I may even be covering the Phoenix Coyotes (that’s hockey, I think) and Spring Training when it rolls around again. I’ll be posting...

Roberto Alomar, 1991 Score This card holds a special place in the heart of all Mets’ fans, because it provides the foreshadowing that represents Roberto Alomar’s precipitous fall from grace. Here is Alomar in 1991, about to make a fabulous diving catch during one of those pitch-black games that made the San Diego Padres’ old ballpark – “the TerrorDome” – so famous. He already has three hits in this particular game, and is well on his way to establishing himself as one of the elite young players in the game (baseball). Unbeknownst to Alomar however, is the fact that a very steep cliff lies ahead. So like an idiot, he falls, and by the time he hits the bottom, he’s wearing a Mets uniform, is hitting .183, and has managed to disgrace his last name by spitting in an umpire’s face . Coincidentally, the look on Alomar’s face in this picture is the exact same expression I had when I first watched the highlight of him hocking a loogie in another grown man’s face. In fact, when Robert Alomar f...

Rusty Kuntz, 1984 Topps I think I was about eleven years old when one of my friends told me about a player named Rusty Kuntz. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed…all the while not really knowing what was so funny. (I was a late bloomer.) Amazingly, Rusty Kuntz never crossed my mind since then. (Yikes…remind to re-word that last sentence later.) Fast forward almost 20 years to the other day, when my friend Bruce sends me an email with a Rusty Kuntz card attached, imploring me to get it on the blog. Since this is a family blog, I was obviously hesitant to do so. But then I said to myself, “Hey, who am I to judge Rusty Kuntz? Doesn’t he deserve a place on this blog alongside other immortals, like Garth Iorg and Glenallen Hill ?” Yes. Yes he does. Besides, it’s not my fault that the combination of “Rusty” and anything even remotely resembling a human body part is so darn hilarious! I’m just the messenger! Anyhoo, I decided to do a little research before posting, and it turns out that a) ...

This morning I woke up and had the realization, “Holy crap…I live in Arizona!” It’s strange how it works out. I mean, it was such a process getting here, and since we’ve arrived, we’ve been on a never-ending quest to replenish all of the things we threw away before we left. It’s been go-go-go for the past three months, and I’ve barely had the time to look up and notice where I’m at. The thoughts that normally occupy my mind – Yankees, me eat, Who farted? – have been replaced by questions like, “Should we return those pillows?” and “How much should 15 tons of granite cost?” There’s been little time for self-reflection these days, and even if there was time, I think I’d rather watch “Rock of Love.” But maybe because we’re sort of settling in – yesterday began my fourth full week of work – what we’ve actually done is starting to sink in. And the initial verdict is a positive one…so far, we really like it here. As with anything, there are positives and negatives. Besides the obvious negat...

Jose Offerman, 1991 Fleer Nothing puts a hop in my step like seeing a professional athlete pose to pretend like he’s playing the sport that he can be found playing for real any day of the week. And it seems like the ridiculousness of this scenario is not lost on Jose Offerman, who seems less than thrilled to be pretending to play shortstop, just minutes before he will be doing shortstoppy things for three consecutive hours. I think it’s pretty safe to say that Jose Offerman is giving it much less than the required 110% in this pose. For starters, he is matching the photographer’s overall laziness by refusing to bend down completely to snag that fake ground ball. I mean, that fake ground ball is going to go right under his glove , and straight into the outfield! E6! And speaking of the outfield, that is apparently where the shortstop position is located. That, or the Dodgers have their famous “shift” on, where the shortstop moves into left field, and the other three outfielders form a ...

Mike Perez, 1991 Topps Mike Perez made Jim Abbott look like Harvey “Three Arms” Johnson. Abbott- the one-time Yankee who was born without a right hand – was content using his left hand to pitch, making him no different than, say, Lefty Grove, or even Lefty Gomez, if Abbott was Spanish. Perez, on the other hand contrary – who, by the way, lost his right hand while trying to retrieve his golf ball from the windmill hole on a miniature golf course – said, “Screw it. I’m pitching with the stump.” And did he ever. Perez had a standard fastball and changeup, but his “out pitch” was his renowned “Mr. Stumpy,” in which he rested the ball on his shoulder, and then performed a windmill motion with his partial arm, thus catapulting the ball to home plate, or backwards into the outfield. The irony of the windmill motion was not lost on Perez, who decided to embrace his misfortune rather than complain about it, like Abbott. But how did Mike Perez make it to the big leagues? The back of the card ex...