If you’re anything like me, the list includes …

Palm trees and blue skies.

Warm-up jackets and warming temperatures.

Your favorite team trying to knock the rust off a long winter.

Old players in new places.

Old players in old places, trying to comeback.

Superstars trying to hold onto their perch.

All of these and plenty more are likely to flood your brain every time talk turns to the spring camps. But maybe more than anything, the overarching theme of spring in general and Spring Training in particular is renewal and new beginnings.

And nothing says “new beginnings” more than all the young guys around MLB trying to make their marks and crack a Big League roster. Card collectors are luckier than most in this regard because we’ve often had an early preview, courtesy of our cardboard, of the young dudes who might someday be diamond kings (or Diamond Kings) but who today are just a few strands of peach fuzz removed from home cooking.

With that thought percolating in my mind I knew I had to include a card of one of these young-looking players when I set out my 2019 Spring Training Baseball Card Challenge, so I’m here on Day 40 to discuss just such a pasteboard.

To figure out which specific card I wanted to profile, I went all the way back to the beginning … of my own hobby days, which means roughly 1983. In the spring of that year, I was just starting to eye the dusty stacks of 1981 and 1982 baseball cards I had stashed in a dark corner of my room, thinking they might be something worth thumbing through after all. By that fall, I’d be all-in, but not before a summer of discovery.

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At about the same time I was debating my cardboard future, one of those would-be Major Leaguers was trying his darnedest to crack the vaunted Los Angeles Dodgers rotation. Even though L.A. had finished second in the old National League West to Dale Murphy and his Atlanta Braves in 1982, they were still the Dodgers, after all. And they still had Fernando Valenzuela, Jerry Reuss, Bob Welch, and Burt Hooton for the rotation, joined by 24-year-old Alejandro Pena.

So it wasn’t too surprising that another 24-year-old, Orel Hershiser, found the going tough that spring and eventually found himself back in Triple-A with the Albuquerque Dukes. It was his second go-round in the mountains after climbing the Dodgers farm system one rung a year from 1979 through 1982.

Within a couple of seasons, of course, everyone would know about the “late-blooming” Hershiser, who led the Dodgers into the National League Championship Series with an incredible 19-3 record and 2.03 ERA in 1985.

The folks who were really paying attention before that, though — and most Dodgers fans — already knew Orel was on his way, finally. After an eight-game stint in the L.A. bullpen at the end of 1983, he went 11-8, 2.66 in ’84 to land third in NL Rookie of the Year voting (behind Dwight Gooden and Juan Samuel).

And, though, he didn’t garner an MLB card until his breakout summer of 1985, Hershiser did land a couple of minor league issues on his way up.

In 1982, he was card number 4 in the TCMA Albuquerque Dukes set. It’s a card any Hershiser collector would love to own, but the shot is far enough away, and grainy enough, that it’s hard to get a good look at the Bulldog.

In 1983, though, his return engagement in the same set gives us our first cardboard look at the choirboy who carved up Major League hitters for the better part of two decades — despite his late start.

There on card number 3, Hershiser kneels in the grass with a minor league outfield wall behind him. He has his mitted left hand on his knee, his right hand gripping a ball and hanging over his thigh. And young Orel peers out from under his read and yellow Dukes hat with the Richie Cunningham mug that he would carry into his forties and on to a 204-150 record.

Exactly how old does Hershiser look on his 1983 TCMA card?

You’ll have to make that determination for yourself, but younger than 24 in my eyes.

And much younger than I’ve felt in a long time.

But no matter how old he looks, he also looks … timeless.

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

You’re going to be a brain surgeon … an astronaut … President … a best-selling author … an award-winning actor.

Heck, why not do it all?

And if you’re a baseball player, you’re not just going to be a Big Leaguer … no, you’re going to lead your team to World Series glory with a two-out, two-strike home run to walk off as champions in Game 7.

You’re going to be an All-Star … an MVP … a Hall of Famer. Along the way, of course, you’re going to appear on a shoebox-full of your own baseball cards.

Those are the visions that accompany your every at-bat in Little League and side-yard pick-up games for years.

Right?

You can see it on the faces and in the walks of especially the best players on any local youth team — smug assurance that their diamond future has no ceiling.

As the years pass by, though, and as competition heats up, those first nagging feelings of doubt set in. Some of the dreams fade against more immediate concerns like Algebra, driving, girls.

By the end of high school, the guys who think they have a shot to make it in baseball have dwindled to a handful, or maybe none or one in small communities in a given year.

The idea of what defines “making it” changes over the years, too. Maybe the Majors aren’t in the cards, but a chance to keep playing baseball in college seems reasonable, doesn’t it? Maybe the diamond can even help pay for college?

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Maybe. And after it does? Trade in the spikes for loafers and a tie, or maybe a Star Wars lanyard and a standing desk if you’re really lucky.

There certainly won’t be any professional baseball to pay the bills, and Topps will never come calling to feature your mug on one of its cards.

But there are a select few guys who keep that original dream alive for far longer than might have seemed possible.

Take catcher Albert Stieglitz, for example.

Stieglitz broke in with the New York Giants organization as a 19-year-old with the Class D Pauls Valley Raiders in 1953. He did well enough there, hitting .319 with six home runs in 364 at-bats, which got him a call to the Class B Danville Leafs in 1954.

There, in the Carolina League, Stieglitz hit .251 with four dingers and drove in 51 runs. In 1955, it was on to Single A, where he hit .314.

The next two seasons are missing from his baseball records — the timing and duration suggests military service, but I can’t prove that. When he returned to baseball action in 1958, though, it was with the Double-A Corpus Christi Giants, where he cranked up his power (10 home runs) and hit .290 over 378 plate appearances.

Then, 1959 brought Stieglitz to the last rung of the Giants minor league ladder at age 25. With the Triple-A Phoenix Giants, Stieglitz hit seven home runs to go along with a .279 average, but managed just 228 plate appearances.

Why the abbreviated season?

Well, first you need to know that Stieglitz was a good enough prospect at that point to garner a card in the 1960 Topps set as a Sport Magazine 1960 Rookie Star (card #144). If you flip that card over, you get his minor league stats to that point, and a paragraph of explanation:

Al might have been a Giant regular for the 1959 season if a broken leg had not stopped him …

So, yeah, a broken leg would probably stop a young catcher from trying to make the Majors, at least temporarily. And, despite Topps’ enthusiasm, the Giants sent Stieglitz back to Double A in 1960, this time to the Rio Grande Valley Giants. He made it into 98 games, logging 318 plate appearances and connecting on another 10 bombs. But his average plummeted to .243 … and he turned 27 not long after the season.

And then … nothing.

Al Stieglitz was finished as a professional player — his dream of playing Major League Baseball was done, even if he had already landed a Major League Baseball card.

Stieglitz and Topps conspired to flout the natural order of things nearly sixty years ago, putting cardboard before The Show, and thus created a perfect entry for this Day 29 of my 2019 Spring Training Baseball Card Challenge — the Big League card of a player who never made it to the Majors.

Thanks, guys … for the cardboard, and for reminding us what the dream feels like.

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

If you’ve ever been to a Major League stadium or even paid attention to the non-action shots on a television broadcast, you know there are plenty of dark crannies that aren’t readily accessible to the average fan.

What lurked in the shadows beyond the bullpens in the old cookie-cutter stadiums like Riverfront Stadium and Veterans Stadium?

What happens behind the Green Monster scoreboard when winter sets in and the Boston Red Sox are scattered to the winds.

And what sort of aquatic secrets do the Kauffman Stadium waterfalls harbor?

I’m sure a select few folks know the answers to these individual questions, but the rest of us are left to speculate.  And it was these types of mysteries that began stirring in my addled brain as I considered which card to profile on this Day 27 of my 2019 Spring Training Baseball Card Challenge.

See, my task today is to talk about a card showing a stadium I want to visit but never have. The field for this one is wide, because I’ve only made it to a handful of big-league parks — Riverfront Stadium, Great American Ballpark, Fenway Park, Jacobs Field, Busch Stadium (though not to see an actual game).

So I decided to first pick the park I most want to visit, then find a card that shows that park to some degree. If said cardboard could also help me answer one of the game’s lingering questions, all the better.

And, with all due respect to Dodger Stadium, AT & T Park, and Camden Yards, the place I most want to visit is Wrigley Field. It shouldn’t be all that hard to accomplish considering my Hoosier roots, but the trip to Addison and Clark has somehow eluded me to this point.

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I’ve seen Wrigley in its televised glory hundreds of times over the years, though, and it seems to me there’s no other venue that can capture the neighborhood feel and deep history all in one fell swoop quite like the Chicago Cubs‘ home. Maybe someday I’ll prove that notion to myself.

In the meantime, I’m left to ponder how wonderful the place must be, but also to wonder what sorts of creatures might be hiding in the fabled Wrigley Field ivy. I mean, that stuff’s been there since before World War II, right? There’s been plenty of time for an infestation of one sort of another to develop.

So I went searching for a card that might give me an insight into he secrets of the ivy, and my first stop bore fruit. As an ancient man who has been collecting baseball cards since they were made out of granite, I remember vividly that roughly 112% of all 1981 Donruss cards featured the Wrigley Field ivy in the background. (The other -12% were the test cards that were actually better than their Topps counterparts.)

I could have picked anyone of those cards for this piece, but there was only one that really made any sense: card #553 of Dave Kingman.

By the time Kingman signed as a free agent with the Cubs before the 1978 season, “Kong” was already pretty much who he was going to be — a monstrous dude with a monstrous swing who could hit the ball out of the Grand Canyon but couldn’t get on base or do a whole lot else, including stay in one place for long.

Still, it’s somewhat astounding it took him so long to land with the cubs, considering how “cozy” the Cozy Confines were, especially with favorable wind conditions. You might say he was born to play with the Cubs.

In his first year by the lake, Kingman turned in a Kingman-esque season, featuring 28 home runs and 79 RBI. In 1979, though, it all clicked, and Kingman slammed 49 homers, drove in 115, and even hit .288.

The perfect marriage was working perfectly.

Then, 1980 brought injuries that limited Kong to just 81 games and saw his production fall to .278, 18, 57. Before the 1981 season could even begin, Chicago traded him to the New York Mets in exchange for Steve Henderson.

Nothing could erase the work he’d done with the Cubs, though, or the idea that Kingman’s rightful place would always be there among the ivy, tantalizingly close to home plate, especially for a slugger of his stature.

To drive that point home, collectors spent that first summer of Kingman’s Mets tenure pulling his ’81 Donruss card from fresh wax packs. Captured there in cardboard bliss for eternity was a smiling Kong, enveloped by the green ivy of his natural habitat.

And, this card also solves one of baseball’s mysteries — we know what lives (or lived) in the Wrigley Field ivy. It’s Kong himself.

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

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At least, that’s the way I imagine it to be — I’ve never actually been to a spring camp or spring game. But it stands to reason …

After all, everybody who plans or hopes to be on a Major League team in the upcoming season spends February and March in Florida or Arizona getting ready for the summer rigors to come. Well, everyone except Bryce Harper, anyway.

Still, if you’re looking to actually see a given player, there are probably worse ways to go about it than finding your way to the cozy confines of a Spring Training contest. But what happens if you never get to see a particular player in action?

Well, then you’ve probably got some regrets. And that’s what this Day 25 of my 2019 Spring Training Baseball Card Challenge is all about — celebrating in cardboard a player I never got the chance to celebrate in person, at a real game.

And, while I’m trying really hard to keep my team and player biases out of this series as much as possible, this is one where I’m having a hard time doing that. I mean, by its very nature, this one sets me up to look into some of my favorite subjects.

So … too bad. I’m writing about a Cincinnati Red.

In particular, I’m writing about a guy from the Big Red Machine that even my dad knew about when I started following baseball in a more or less hardcore manner in 1983.

See, my dad never had much patience for baseball and considered it sort of a wimpy sport, if he were being candid with you. He was all about football and, to some extents basketball, as long as there were big, physical men like Wilt Chamberlain involved.

Dad was and is tough, and he just didn’t see non-contact sports as tough enough to warrant his fandom.

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But more than anything else, Dad is a Dad, with a capital, italicized, bold “D.” So when I embraced the diamond, Dad was right there to regale me with all the knowledge he had on the subject. And, having been a young man starting a family in central Indiana during the 1970s, much of what dad knew revolved around the Reds.

From what Dad could tell me …

• Joe Morgan may have been the greatest player ever.
• Pete Rose was a jerk.
• Catching was killing Johnny Bench.
• Dave Concepcion was definitely somebody.

But the guy whose legendary Redlegs exploits made the biggest impact on Dad was slugger George Foster.

Was he still with the Reds?

Dad wanted to know in about 1983, and I had to break the news that, no, Foster was with the New York Mets.

That was too bad, because he could hit the ball farther than anyone else. Maybe ever.

Wow! That was a crazy thought, and crazy baseball praise coming from my dad. So right then and there, George Foster became one of my all-time favorite players, and I ran to my meager but growing collection to pull all of the Foster cards I could find.

I remember two cards from that period pretty vividly …

• The 1982 Topps KMart 25th Anniversary card chronicling Foster’s monstrous 1977 season that yielded a batting line of .320, 52 home runs, 149 RBI and landed Foster the National League Most Valuable Player award (and the KMart appearance).
• The 1981 Fleer “Slugger” card that showed him with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on the face of a baseball player.

That Fleer card, in particular, has been one of my favorites for nearly four decades now, and it always makes me long for simpler times, but also look forward to the joys the game still has in store for me as a fan.

Mostly, though, it makes me think of my dad — what doesn’t, though? — and wish that we had been able to watch Foster play in person, together.

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

It happens all the time to me, even after all these years of collecting and after having spent a decade or more as a kid pouring over every card I could get my hands on.

It’s an amazing phenomenon and one that leaves me in disbelief every single time. But it also makes me feel giddy … there’s a new 1981 Topps card out there?

Well, no, probably not. But in that moment, it’s new to me.

That’s sort of what discovering baseball is like for the new fan — you know the game has been there all along, but by golly, it’s so new and exciting to you that you’re on Cloud 9.

So I knew I  had to include this treasure-from-the-mundane thing in my 2019 Spring Training Baseball Card Challenge, and that’s what this Day 15 post is all about — a baseball card that I’ve never seen before.

Most of the time, I stumble on these babies when I least expect it … like the aforementioned stack-thumbing.

This time around, though, I consulted my local Google machine to help me pan through a few hundred cards of various topics … Reds cards … Hall of Fame cards … 1980s Donruss cards … 1978 cards.

And that’s where I saw it — the 1978 Topps Zest Willie Montanez.

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The what what?

You heard me — the 1978 Topps Zest Willie Montanez. The one that jumped off the page at me like the baseball on a 1975 Topps wax pack wrapper.

Now, Willie Montanez himself is no stranger to me. I vividly remember pushing his early 1980s cards around my bedroom floor during sorting sessions that lasted deep into the night. I marveled at the long line of stats on his card back.

I also remember that he played for the Philadelphia Phillies, Atlanta Braves, Pittsburgh Pirates, and New York Mets, though a couple of his other stops don’t register at all (for me).

Finally, I get an instant mental image when I think of “1978 Topps Willlie Montanez” — an image of Willie leaning in with his reaching left-handed batting stance, wearing a Braves warm-up jacket on the grass, looking off to his right rather than at the camera or toward the “pitcher.”

By the time that card made its way to collectors, though, Montanez was with the Mets. We’d get a Montanez-Mets card courtesy of 1979 Topps, but collectors were doomed to stale Willie cards in the summer of 1978.

Except …

Except that Topps teamed up with Zest soap to make a five-card set that collectors in certain states could nab through the mail, in exchange for some proofs of purchase from Zest. (There is a discussion of the cards and even a big old picture of the original order form in this thread at Collectors.com.)

Besides Montanez, the Zest-y players included Ed Figueroa, Manny Mota, Joaquin Andujar, and Bert Campaneris.

Cards were identical to those in the base Topps set, except their numbering (1-5) and the fact that they included both English and Spanish text on the back.

Oh, one other difference …

Willie Montanez is pictured in a smiling head-shoulders-and-bat pose, and he’s wearing his New York Mets hat and pinstripes.

And just like that, at least a few collectors had an updated Montanez cards … and, 41 years later, I stumbled across another card I’d never seen before.

Wonders never cease!

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

For me, this assignment brings visions of the big trades and free agent signings from my childhood, roughly the 1980s.

And during the 80s, there was no single more dominant team than the 1984 Detroit Tigers, who ran out to a 9-0 record in April and then streaked to 35-5 before “cooling” to a final record of 104-58.

The Bengals ran the table in the old American League East, holding first place wire-to-wire, and winning the division by 15 games over the Toronto Blue Jays.

The postseason was pretty much a formality, as the Tigers swept the Kansas City Royals in the ALCS and then met the San Diego Padres in the World Series. The Padres were a good story in their own right, having taken out the upstart Chicago Cubs (who had taken out the upstart New York Mets in the NL East) in the NLCS. The Pads also had a young batting title winner on their roster — one Tony Gwynn. Ever hear of him?

Didn’t matter to the Tigers, though, as they downed San Diego, four games to one.

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Now, most of that Tigers team consisted of homegrown players who all peaked — or close to it — at the same time. Guys like Alan Trammell, Lou Whitaker, Kirk Gibson, Jack Morris, Barbaro Garbey, Chet Lemon, Dan Petry.

There was one notable “outsider” who contributed in a big way — closer Willie Hernandez made 80 appearances and pitched to a 9-3 record, with a 1.92 ERA and 32 saves. That was good enough to garner him both big American League awards … Cy Young and MVP.

Guillermo had pitched for the Philadelphia Phillies “Wheeze Kids” team the year before, and he appeared with the Phils on his 1984 baseball cards, so he’d definitely qualify for this piece.

But there was another guy on that ’84 Tigers team who sort of toiled in the shadows of his more flamboyant teammates and who, truthfully, didn’t play all that well in 1984.

After the San Francisco Giants let him walk as a free agent, aging slugger Darrell Evans signed on with Detroit to be their DH during his age-37 season. Though he had smacked 30 home runs on the Bay in 1983, that was his highest total since he hit 41 with the Atlanta Braves way back in 1973. And, even though he was (partially) hanging up his third baseman and first baseman gloves, no one could expect Evans to match that power output again.

He didn’t, either.

In 131 games for Detroit, Evans managed just a .232, 16 HR, 63 RBI output and sort of faded from whatever little bit of limelight he had garnered in his career. It didn’t help that he hit .061 in the World Series, either.

Probably just as well that he appeared on Giants cards all summer long, like his 1984 Topps issue.

Things didn’t go quite so well for the Tigers in 1985, though. They sported a winning record all season long but fell out of first place on April 30 and never got back there, finishing in third place in the East. Along the way, Sparky Anderson started to make some adjustments to try and rev up his team, and one of those was installing Evans as his regular first baseman.

Whether it was getting back on the field with more consistency or just a matter of adjusting to a new league and a new park (Tiger Stadium), Evans found his old power stroke, and then some.

At age 38, Darrell connected on 40 bombs and drove in 94 runs while upping his average to .248. He also drew 85 walks, good for a .356 OBP.

Maybe more importantly, that summer of 1985 gave Evans some room to breathe and helped him tack on another three productive power seasons to his career. From 1986-88, he hit 85 home runs and collected 248 RBI, good for 9 WAR if your Sabermetrically inclined.

Though he finished with a forgettable one-year return engagement with the Atlanta Braves in 1989, Evans’ late push left him as one of the top 20 or so third basemen of all time and with 414 home runs to his name. It’s not inconceivable that he’ll get some Hall of Fame consideration from the Modern Baseball Era Committee one of these years.

Above all, though, his geriatric power show made Evans an undeniable part of Tigers history and leaves his 1984 Topps card looking not quite right.

Thank goodness for those traded sets, huh?

Check out the entire series of 2019 Spring Training Challenge posts here.

Ah, yes … who doesn’t love Valentine’s Day?

And, as it so happens, February 14 is also about the same time that pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training, marking the beginning of another Major League Baseball season. In the old days, it was also when new baseball cards made their way to most corners of the earth for the first time.

Yep, baseball and Valentine’s Day go together in a coincidental sort of way like school lunch and diarrhea. Or something.

To celebrate that pairing (baseball and Valentine’s Day, that is), I thought it would be fun to put together an All-Time All-Valentine’s Baseball Card Team. So I did.

All of the guys here have names that have something to do with our big sweetheart day, and they all have a baseball card or two to rub together.

And speaking of “together,” together these players form a complete lineup, and then some.

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Rick Sweet, C

Rick Sweet made a total of 272 appearances for the San Diego Padres, New York Mets, and Seattle Mariners scattered over three Big League seasons from 1978 through 1983. He hit just .234 with six homers and 57 RBI over 815 plate appearances, but he did manage to pick up a handful of baseball cards along the way. Chief among them was this, ahem, sweet 1983 Topps issue showing Sweet (the man) in the tools of ignorance — the mitt, at least —  with the Mariners.

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Pete Rose, 1B

Right. Pete Rose had all sorts of troubles after he came back to the Cincinnati Reds in the 1980s and became their manager, then their Bettor-in-Chief. He’s terrible and awful and broke baseball’s cardinal rule. Fine. All true.

But he was also one of the great players of the 1960s and 1970s, and it’s impossible to leave him off this team. Though Rose played all over the diamond, we’ll slot him at first base because that’s where he played most and because that fits the rest of our lineup best. And the card?

Rose cards don’t get much better than his second-year issue, 1964 Topps, which also happens to be his first solo card.

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Bobby Rose, 2B

The California Angels drafted Bobby Rose out of San Dimas High School in the fifth round in 1985, and he made his Major League debut four years later. He was young at just 22 and touted in some circles as the Halos’ second baseman of the future, but Rose managed just 73 games over the course of the next four seasons. Still, he makes the cut at the keystone for our team, and he looks awfully good — in a Junk Wax sort of way — on his 1992 Topps card.

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Coco Laboy, 3B

OK, this one may be a stretch, but …

“Coco” is not far from “cocoa,” and you can’t have all those tasty Valentine chocolates without cocoa. Besides, Coco was the third baseman for the original rendition of the Montreal Expos, and he has some cool early 1970s baseball cards. It’s hard to argue against the 1971 and 1972 issues, but I’ll take 1970 for all the dugout-in-the-background-golden-Topps-All-Star-Rookie-red-white-and-blue-first-year-Expos-uniform goodness it imparts.

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Bobby Valentine, SS

Before Bobby Valentine was playing cards and dress-up between innings in the New York Mets dugout, he was forging a 10-year career as an actual Big League player. Like (Pete) Rose, Bobby V. played a lot of positions, though nowhere near as well as Pete did, at least if you consider the bat side of things. Among all those slots, Valentine spent the most time at shortstop, so he gets that hole for us, too.

Valentine had some solid 1970s cardboard, but we’re going with his 1972 Topps issue here because it’s so psychedelic and because Bobby looks like a shortstop in the shot.

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Ellis Valentine, RF

In ten Big League seasons with the Expos  (6+), Mets (1+), Texas Rangers(1), and Angels(1), Ellis Valentine collected an All-Star appearance, some MVP votes, and a Gold Glove, along with 123 home runs and some other statistical goodies.

He also gave collectors a variety of baseball card looks, from scowls to smiles to poses to blank stares.

But if you know anything about baseball cards from the 1980s, you know the only choice for this list is his 1981 Topps issue. You know, the one where he has welded a dinosaur bone onto the front of his batting helmet to protect his grill? Yeah, that one.

That card, plus Valentine’s actual baseball skills, make him our right fielder.

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Fred Valentine, CF

According to Baseball Reference, Fred Valentine’s nickname is, “Squeaky.” I’ll leave it to you to find out why.

For us, Valentine’s nickname is “center fielder,” by virtue of appearing in that slot more than just about anyone else on this list, even though he spent more time in right field. Sometimes, you just have to take one for the team.

You might be interested to know that Valentine picked up some MVP votes with the 1966 Washington Senators, who were a pretty awful team under a just-warming-up Gil Hodges. That nugget is all the more relevant when you realize that his beautiful 1967 Topps card, celebrating that ’66 campaign, is our pasteboard of choice here.

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Candy Maldonado,  LF

Candy Maldonado was one of those guys who hit a decent amount of home runs (18 for the Giants in 1986) fairly early in his career (age 25), flashing promise that made us come back to his cards over and over, waiting for the BIG breakout.

That never came, but Candy did turn in a 15-year career that included three 20-homer seasons and 146 overall. His fielding was nothing to write home about, but he logged enough time in both right and left to make him a solid choice as our left fielder.

He’s also showcasing that powerful swing, while flashing some Los Angeles Dodgers blue, on his 1984 Topps card.

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Jim Ray Hart, DH

Jim Ray Hart was a bona fide star beginning at age 22 for the San Francisco Giants in 1964. You may not know that, though, because he was generally overshadowed by a couple of ho-hum teammates name Willie McCovey and Willie Mays. Nevertheless, Hart finished second (to Dick Allen, tied with Rico Carty) in the ’64 National League Rookie of the Year award voting.

Hart also had five straight seasons with 20+ home runs, including two with more than 30, from 1964-68 before tailing off sharply thereafter.

And, while Hart’s primary position was at third base, his defense was generally considered … um … atrocious. So, left field, here he came!

And then DH, once he made the transition to the New York Yankees, as all aging sluggers must eventually do.

Still, he had some great cardboard, including a rather brutal 1974 Topps rendition where he’s actually listed as a designated hitter. Good enough to make him our DH.

But that’s not our card here … nope, we’re going with his sparkling 1965 Topps card, which reminds one (me) of the awesome ’65 Topps Tony Oliva issue.

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Corky Valentine, Starting Pitcher (RHP)

Corky Valentine was a big (for the time), mean right-hander for the Cincinnati Reds who signed at age 19 and then spent six years working his way through the minor leagues and a stint in the Army before finally landing on the Big League roster in 1954. Sorta like the anti-Joe Nuxhall. Valentine pitched like a mini-workhorse (194 1/3 innings) as a rookie at age 25, but then fell off to less than 30 innings in 1955 … and never appeared in the Big Leagues again.

Corky did, however, garner one more or less perfect baseball card in that short time frame — this 1955 Topps beauty.

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John Candelaria, Starting Pitcher (LHP)

If you don’t know why The Candy Man is on this list, it’s possible you’re on the wrong website. But, just in case you’re not and just haven’t spent much time pouring through this particular corner of baseball history, John Candelaria was a monstrous (6’7″) starting pitcher who toiled in the Majors from 1975 though 1993. In 1977, at age 23, he went 20-5 for an NL-leading .800 winning percentage and with an NL-leading 2.34 ERA for the always competitive Pittsburgh Pirates.

He cooled down considerably after that, but the big lefty still managed 177 career wins against 122 losses on the strength of a solid 3.33 ERA.

Oh, and his nickname was The Candy Man, but you already knew that if you were paying attention above.

Candelaria’s career spanned well into the hobby’s boom years, so there are plenty of cards to pick from, but I’m going with 1976 Topps, where Candy channels Christopher Cross and models his “Ride Like the Wind” hairdo.

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Don Rose, Relief Pitcher (RHP)

Don Rose might have been the most celebrated flower-named dude in the game in the early 1970s were it not for that hustling booger down on the Riverfront. As it was, Rose made his debut for the Mets in 1971 … then pitched for the Angels in 1972 … then spent 1973 in the minors … then pitched in two games for the San Francisco Giants in 1974.

All told, Rose made 19 Big League appearances, including four starts, and saved zero games in his 15 relief appearances.

Even with just 45 2/3 innings of total work, Rose still appeared in the 1973 Topps set on a pasteboard that may hold the record for the most total white space of all time

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Vance Lovelace, Relief Pitcher (LHP)

Sure, phonetically Vance Lovelace is the opposite of what you’d want for a Valentine’s day pitcher, but his last name is quite, um, lovely if you break it down — Love + Lace.  How delightful.

Which is not to say that Lovelace himself was so delightful on Big League diamonds, because his 0-0 record with 0 saves and a 5.79 ERA in 4 2/3 innings pitched for the Angels and Mariners is not the stuff of dreams. Except it is the stuff of dreams, because he played in the Major Leagues.

Did you?

The dream was only enhanced by the fact that Lovelace made his way onto a 1989 Fleer Major League Prospects card, right alongside Terry Taylor.

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Candy Harris, Pinch Runner

The Baltimore Orioles selected Candy Harris in the third round of the 1966 January draft, and then lost him to the Houston Astros in the Rule 5 draft that November.

As per the rules of Rule 5, the ‘Stros put Candy right onto their roster and kept him there through 1967. During that summer, he made one plate appearance over six games.

Huh? That math doesn’t work, does it?

Well, it does if you’re a pinch runner, Skippy!

And so, seven years before Charlie O. Finley made waves by signing Herb Washington to be a PR for the Oakland A’s (for PR), Candy Harris filled the role for Houston. Never mind that he struck out in his only at-bat, attempted zero stolen bases, and scored zero runs.

Dude was a pinch runner in the Major Leagues.

And, appeared on a 1968 Topps Rookie Stars card as “Alonzo” Harris, right alongside Tom Dukes.

And then was done in the Majors. Which is beside the point entirely.

(Check out our other player card posts here.)

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Although it may sound preposterous now, 1987 Fleer baseball cards were once just about the hottest items in the hobby.

See, in the late winter and early spring of 1987, when the new cards started hitting store shelves across the country, we ran into a snag with the usual scheme of things.

Since about 1984, Donruss and Fleer had worked to build up a reputation as producing slightly higher quality cards than Topps, mostly owing to the newcomers’ use of white cardstock rather than Topps’ standard brown-gray.

At the same time, as Donruss an Fleer recovered their standings from the first couple of icky years of their existence as baseball card manufacturers, demand for their cards increased and — it seemed, at least — they clamped down on their production.

Whereas 1981 Fleer and Donruss were everywhere, the 1986 issues were a little harder to come by.

Still, it was all a nuance until early 1987.

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By February of 1987, Topps was everywhere, as usual.

Around here (central Indiana), I was able to find a few pockets of Donruss.

But that’s where it ended — there was no Fleer to be had, anywhere, even though I could read about the fancy new design with cloud-fade photos in Sports Collectors Digest every couple of weeks.

And something else was odd, too. A huge chunk of the country was also experiencing this Fleer shortage, judging by the letters and ads in SCD, and that shortage extended to Donruss in many locales.

So I counted myself lucky to be getting acquainted with the black-and-baseball-bordered Donruss set while pining for some Fleer powder blue.

Of course, there was some Fleer product out there, and you could buy it if you wanted to pay two or three (or more) times the retail value. It’s a ransom I would have surrendered without much problem, but my parents weren’t so eager.

Instead, I built my mental checklist of Fleer cards I most wanted when I eventually got around to buying a few packs.

Naturally, I wanted them all, but there were a few key pasteboards that showed up at card shows and in images accompanying reviews and ads all the time, and that looked like must-haves to me.

Barry Bonds, Bo Jackson, Barry Larkin, Pete Rose, Roger Clemens … they all were featured prominently in various print material.

If you look up those cards, you’ll notice that most of them show the player either posed or in a close-up action shot — those are the types of photos that seemed to work best with the picture-frame design that allowed the top edge of each image to extend past its borders.

Or at least that’s the type of photo that Fleer seemed to prefer.

And if there was one guy that was tailor-made for the 1987 Fleer design, it was young San Francisco Giants first baseman Will Clark.

Clark was good-looking, had played for the US Olympic Baseball team, became a bona fide superstar at Mississippi State, and was regarded as one of the best prospects in the game.

His name was a natural fit for baseball, too. Short. Masculine. Evoked images of the old west.

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So it’s little wonder that the image of Clark in front of a batting cage in his Giants home white jersey and black batting helmet, hand on hip, and swagger smile painted all over his face fit so well on his 1987 Fleer rookie card.

And it’s little wonder that advertisers and reviewers alike picked this card to illustrate their articles.

That Will Clark rookie card became the mental image attached to 1987 Fleer for thousands of collectors as we waited our turn for a few wax packs.

Now, all these years later, with Clark long-since retired from a star-level but not Hall-of-Fame-level career, and with the truth about Fleer’s production levels in 1987 more well understood — well, this is still the card that comes to mind when I think about the set that once felt almost mythical.

That’s the way it is with iconic cards, with the best card a set.

They stick with you forever, no matter what.

For all these reasons, the Will Clark rookie is the best card from the 1987 Fleer baseball card set.

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(This is the 21st in our series of posts about the best baseball cards from the 1980s. Check out the rest of those posts here.)

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The 1985 Donruss Eric Davis rookie card can teach us a thing or two about timing and success.

See …

Being at the right place at the right time gets a lot of lip service, but this sentiment misses a key point (or several) about achieving success.

While it’s true that opportunity is often unpredictable in terms of timing and exact manifestation, it’s also true that you have to have the goods if you want to be able to make the most of those opportunities.

In 1985 (or thereabouts), Donruss and Eric Davis were ready for the challenge.

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Donruss had staked their claim, finally, to collectors’ hearts in 1984 with a reduced print run, improved design, and a legendary Don Mattingly rookie card (also a product of timing to a large degree).

They parlayed that Olympics-year breakthrough into gigantic hobby interest entering 1985, and they continued to intrigue with a black-bordered design that evoked strong reactions on both sides.

With richer photography and stark red accents, though, 1985 Donruss won over most of us, and we clamored to fill our collections with rookies like Dwight Gooden, Kirby Puckett, Bret Saberhagen, and Roger Clemens.

Eric Davis, meanwhile, was busy tuning up the legs and bat that had drawn comparisons to everyone from Willie Mays and Hank Aaron to Cesar Cedeno and Pedro Guerrero.

Davis teased with 10 home runs and 10 stolen bases in just 57 games with the Cincinnati Reds in 1984, but he didn’t progress quite as expected in 1985. In 56 games, he swiped 16 bases but connected for “just” eight home runs.

Opportunity would have to wait, but Davis was clearly part of the Reds’ plans as they prepared for future pennant runs under player-manager Pete Rose.

The pause gave Davis’s cards a chance to soften a bit in the glare of the other hot rookies, but by the time camp broke in 1986, both Davis and his cards were ready to break out.

And they did.

On the strength of 27 home runs, 80 stolen bases, and 97 runs, Davis helped the Reds to a second straight 2nd-place finish and even received some MVP consideration.

His power-speed predictably sent collectors back to our stacks of 1985 cards to pull his now-hot rookies.

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Arguably the most striking of the lot was his 1985 Donruss pasteboard, an action shot of ED at-bat in front of a blurry crowd, accented perfectly by the red stripes on the card’s borders.

And those divisive black borders lend a richness to the image that traditional white boundaries couldn’t have touched.

It’s an awesome card that became truly special because the player and company involved brought their talents together at just the right time.

That’s how you create the best card in a set, and Eric Davis did just that with his 1985 Donruss gem.

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(This is the 14th in our series of posts about the best baseball cards from the 1980s. Check out the rest of those posts here.)

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The best thing you can say for the 1981 Fleer baseball card set is that it’s a historic issue and is generally of higher quality than that other first-ever issue from the strike-torn season.

While 1981 Donruss was hard to look at and remains a hard sell to collectors because of poor production quality across the board, 1981 Fleer is terrible in just a few areas and OK in some others.

The terrible includes truckloads of errors, plenty of dark photos, and plenty of old photos.

The OK includes a decent design, fairly thick cardstock, several pretty nice photos, and lots of on-back stats.

In fact, some of these OKs border on goods and are enough for Fleer’s first full-fledged set of current Major League Baseball players to rival the company they fought long and hard for the right to do battle with.

That is, while the 1981 Topps set has some definite advantages over Fleer, the two are not light years apart.

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And when it comes to picking the best card from 1981 Fleer, you have a lot of choices …

• You could go with one of the many kneeling-on-bat poses, like Rickey Henderson.
• You could go with one of the good action shots, like Dennis Leonard or Kirk Gibson.
• You could go with a posed at-bat shot, like Reggie Jackson.
• You could go with the last-year Willie McCovey card, like I did last year.
• You could go with an unusual shot, like George Foster or Bruce Sutter.

Me? Now?

I’m going with Sutter’s teammate, Dave Kingman.

By 1981, when this card came out, Kingman was already known across the land as Kong thanks to his gargantuan size and even bigger swing that had helped him generate 270 home runs to go along with his 1139 strikeouts.

And on this Fleer card, Kingman swoops into the frame, bat in hand, like he’s ready to lord over the tiny Wrigley Field structures in the background.

Just like King Kong.

But there’s something else going on here.

When you see pictures of Kingman from this era, smiles are in short supply. He projects the image of a serious, brooding slugger.

But here …

Well, Kingman looks downright heroic.

Self-assured smile …

Hair whipping in the wind …

Eyebrow cocked in, what, flirtation?

Why, this isn’t Dave Kingman at all! It’s Christian Bale.

And considering that the Cubs traded Kingman to the New York Mets for Steve Henderson in February of 1981, we have the makings of a comic book conspiracy.

I mean, New York Mets … Gotham … Christian Bale …

Batman?

Yes!

This is, indeed, the long-rumored “I’m Batman” card.

The only thing better would have been if we got to see the full Cubbie logo on Kingman’s sleeve.

Oh well, you can’t have everything.

But you can swing at everything. Just ask the Sky King.

(This is the second in our series of posts about the best baseball cards from the 1980s. Check out the rest of those posts here.)

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