ATTENTION!
Welcome back, men. The Corporal spent the last
day of July in the fine city of Cooperstown,
NY, attending the Hall of Fame inductions. As any good baseball fan knows, the appeal of this event is two-pronged; the chance
to see former stars of the game from the backs of massive crowds (almost as close as you could see them on TV!), and buying
crappy memorabilia, an investment that always pays for itself in sheer novelty.
The day trip to Cooperstown
would come to be defined by cards of all kinds. The main attraction (for most) was the ceremony, which included former Cards
such as Ozzie Smith (who seems to do nothing but wait around for these kinds of events), Lou Brock (who gave a solid prayer
invocation before the ceremony), and, of course, the man of the hour, Bruce Sutter. The main attraction for the Corp, however,
was the table of five dollar grab bags of thoroughly searched leftover baseball cards, which was, naturally, my first purchase
upon entering the town.
Before I divulge the hilarious contents of that
magical bag (Ludacris, you’ll just have to wait to find out what the hell I got in that bag), here’s a 2006 HOF
Induction fun fact: Bruce Sutter was one of 18 people getting inducted! As a matter of fact, at least one of them was a woman!
There were seventeen former Negro League players and executives being inducted alongside Sutter- not that you would know it.
I swear, whenever they introduced the inductees, it was like some pre-political correctness rock and roll band- Sutter and
the Negroes. Some guy would go on for ten minutes about Sutter’s split-finger fastball, and then, as he was stepping
away from the podium, blurt out, “And thank you to all the Negro Leaguers, you guys mean so much to us.” Bullshit.
Somehow, seventeen pioneers get overshadowed by some stooge who, aside from the fact that he should be played by Gene Hackman
in a movie (good call, Dad!), was barely scraping by until he learned the split -finger. I guarantee that if it was seventeen
major league players and execs (think Marge Schott/ Schottsie, Ty Cobb’s granddaughter, and any other assorted racists)
up on that stage, they wouldn’t be getting overshadowed by Bruce Freaking Sutter. Until Buck O’Neil and Josh Gibson
are inducted, it’s still a horse and pony show when it comes to paying lip service to the Negro Leagues.
By the way, a quick memo to any white male over
the age of sixty-five: showing up at the induction ceremony wearing a Homestead Grays jersey, or any kind of Negro League
apparel, is beyond ironic and beyond disrespectful; it was your generation that prevented these athletes from getting the
recognition they deserved in the first place. Now I’m not saying it was you,
per se, but don’t try to play it off like you were rooting for them the whole time just because the boomers couldn’t
hold the line. Nice thought, but come on. Just let it go- it’s the only way we’ll ever get past “issues”
of race. Make them non-issues. Done deal.
One more Sutter anecdote. I’m bouncing
between ESPN (SportsCenter) and the Deuce (tape of the induction ceremony), when, while downshifting on the remote from ESPN2
to ESPN, Jeff “Cowboy” Brantley appears on the screen on the Deuce. I’m already on ESPN at this point, but
I say to my dad, who’s sitting across the room, “I’ll bet you whatever you want that Brantley’s showing
how to throw the split-finger.”
“I’m not taking that bet.”
Damn. You know the ending to this one: I flip back, and JB’s parting his fingers, holding a baseball up to the screen
at arm’s length.
“Ya throw it just like a fastball, but…”
Which, at long last, brings us to the bag. I
sorted through the mess, narrowing down a hundred or so cards to a pile of keepers. The contents?
1.
Not one, not two, but three cards each of Dante Bichette and some guy named Pascual Perez (or, as MS Word would
have it, Dante Briquette and Paschal Perez). Dante is pictured playing for a different team on each card- the Angels, the
Rockies, and the Brewers (note- among my purchases on this fateful day was a 1992 Milwaukee Brewers Official Media Guide,
featuring Bichette , Robin Yount , Paul Molitor, and a young Gary Antonian Sheffield). Perez, however, was too irresistible
a character to simply stuff back in the bag. I was drawn in by his ’88 Expos card, which showed a man who I believe
cracks the list of the Top 5 Downright Ugliest People of All Time. I immediately turned to a man who could be relied on for
guidance in moments such as these- my father, Jim “Jimbo” McKeever.
Me (snickering) “Hey,
Dad, what’s the deal with this Pascual Perez character?”
Jimbo (solemnly) “He had
a little problem with cocaine.”
The issue required no further examination, and I now have,
in my possession, more Dante Bichette and Pascual Perez cards than anyone has good reason to.
