A trip down memory lane

Ah yes, the simpler times of childhood. Wouldn't you love to be a kid again? I know I would.

Take a trip with me back to the days when we lived our lives without a care in the world. The times when summer meant playing outside or swimming all day, shoplifting candy, and lighting illegal fireworks at night. Winter was all about school cancellations, throwing snowballs at old people, and shoplifting candy (even easier with large coats).

Remember when happiness could be derived from something as simple as hitting the fat kid in dodge ball, getting the prize at the bottom of a cereal box, or opening a fresh pack of baseball cards? Yes, baseball cards. Something almost every American male has encountered growing up.

I can recall a time before baseball cards were looked at as a business opportunity for kids. Before I ever looked at a Beckett to see how my Donruss Rick Sutcliffe was doing. (At press time, the card was worth zero dollars, but with an "up" arrow next to it).

Like a lot of my friends, I got into baseball cards before I really even cared about Major League Baseball. At the time, all I wanted was a Cincinnati Reds' player, and the team checklist let me know if I had all of them, or I was missing a Kal Daniels or Bo Diaz.

If you were born in the late 1970s, then like me, you probably started collecting cards in the mid-1980s. That was such a wonderful time for baseball. All of the players were coked-up, and none of them had been caught yet. A home run meant something, because it was a non-juiced ball, hit by a non-juiced player, in a normal sized ballpark.

Everyone knows the Giants' homer machine Barry Bonds, but back in the '80s there was a guy on the Pirates of the same name. He was a great line-drive hitter, gold glove outfielder, and a slim, speedy threat on the bases. Well, here's something you may not know. They're the same person!

The '80s were a terrific time for baseball cards as well. Topps, Donruss, and Fleer each released one regular set per year, and one traded set. Packs were cheap, and we were excited to get a player that we didn't have yet. By the time I was six, I knew just about every player in the Major League. As a result, I was watching and playing baseball years before I got into any other sport. It was all about having fun.

Everyone had a favorite baseball card set, and mine was 1987 Topps. The cards were wood paneled and featured a "fun fact" about the player on the back. Brewers' relief pitcher John Henry Johnson's revealing fact was that he played little league baseball. This was also the same year that the company debuted the prophetic "Future Stars" series. We can all thank the series for introducing us to such household names as Tim Pyznarski, Pat Dodson, and Dave Magadan.

The year 1987, unfortunately, was seemingly the last great year for baseball cards, when we collected them just for fun because we loved baseball. In '88, Donruss decided it would be a good idea to make enough of their set so that every single American could have two. The result? The worst baseball card set of all time. Don't believe me? In 1998, I bought the complete factory-sealed set for three dollars.

The '80s ended with the first Upper Deck set, and things got much worse. We were introduced to Topps Stadium Club, Leaf, Skybox, and others. Cards became big business, and I became a casualty. Instead of trying to get an entire team or my favorite players, I would open a pack and get miffed if most of my new cards weren't listed in Beckett. I was putting guys like Steve Avery and Frank Thomas in hard plastic cases. I even went to a few baseball card auctions, which is the closest thing most sports fans will get to a Star Trek convention. Never have I seen so many men in their 30s and 40s wasting their lives.

We had fat men with moustaches on the Home Shopping Network, yelling that the viewers would be crazy not to pay $75 (or three easy payments of $25), for a Sammy Sosa card that I have a dozen of in a shoebox somewhere in my dad's attic. Meanwhile, I got suckered into spending my lawn-mowing money on one of those lame Classic sets.

For me, the end of the innocence was punctuated by one single event. A friend of mine and I invited a younger kid to my house for a sleepover, and got him to bring his baseball cards. When he left the room to use the bathroom, we stole all of his best cards. To top it all off, we beat him up for accusing us.

The sad thing is that during the entire time that I saw money potential in cards, I never sold even one. I just kept buying them. Now they're worthless, although the fat guys on TV would have you believe otherwise.

Today I worry about how young kids perceive baseball. For one, players are incessantly whining and threatening to strike. Strike?

Ninty percent of baseball is doing absolutely nothing. On offense, you sit on the bench until you bat, then wait for eight more teammates to have their plate appearance, then bat again. On defense, you may have to actually move if the ball is hit your way.

Whew! You couldn't pay me enough to do that for three hours a day, then screw a model. Uh uh, not for seven months out of the year, no way!

Secondly, baseball games are being broadcast awfully late. This didn't affect me in California, but during the 2002 World Series, I was watching games thinking, "Damn, it's 1:30 a.m. on the East Coast right now."

Finally, the inexplicably hour-long SportsCenter only shows highlights of the best and most popular teams. I could have named for you every member of the 1987 Royals at that time. I would bet that in 2003 most kids don't even know that Kansas City has a team. If anyone is confused, it was Kansas City's first base coach that was savagely beaten by a trailer trash father and son duo.

Is it possible that baseball cards could make kids love pro baseball again? I'd like to think so, but I think that the practice of putting a dollar value on cards makes sure that only the best players' cards will be paid any attention.

Today's youth might be a lost cause, but not me. I'd like all of the common players of the 1980s to know that, thanks to baseball cards, I still remember who they are.

That's right Pat Tabler, Ed Hearn, Jeff Treadway, and Billy Jo Robidoux. You will always have a special place in my heart, if not in the annals of Major League Baseball history.