Wednesday, February 6, 2013

TROPHY CARDS

THE TROPHY MAKES THE CARD.

A trophy is similar to a disposable razor: When it's new, it's sharp; when it's old, it's dull. But when it's on a baseball card, it's a keeper.


GREAT POSE. GREAT TROPHY.

The Topps All-Star Rookie trophy, that iconic piece of hardware bestowed from 1960-'72, looks positively golden on any card. There's something about baseball and the trophy that strikes a chord. The current Topps All-Star Rookie cup icon, which debuted in '73 and gradually shrank over the years like Alex Rodriguez's testicles, is a poor substitute. Cups are given to frat-house party guests and yachtsmen, not to baseball players. 

For the record, I always liked hood ornaments, too.


BEST CARD OF THE 1970s, THANKS IN PART TO THE GOLD THINGY.

As a Little-Leaguer, I received many trophies. If you had a pulse at the end of the season, you got a trophy. The better players got the biggest trophies of course but that didn't matter. I showed mine off to anyone who came into my room. As I got older, they lost their allure, got swept off the desk and into a box never to be seen again. I don't remember actually throwing them away, much in the same way I don't remember actually flushing any of my dead tropical fish down the toilet.

I lugged home my first trophy since Little League a few years ago after finishing runner-up in a six-hour off-road bicycle race. It was very impressive, this trophy, about 3 feet tall. Now it's just part of the household clutter, a cumbersome paperweight with a gold androgynous figure on top, arms and wings outstretched as if signalling "touchdown.'' 


WHO'S THIS GUY? WHO CARES? HE GOT A TROPHY!

The Topps trophy certainly doesn't qualify as weird or junk, even if it's nothing more than a batter perched on a hat connected to a cube plopped on a pedestal. It's the perfect accessory to any card. It makes a common more significant and a star extra special. 

I don't remember it being a big deal as a kid. Today I'm drawn to it like moth to flame. Call it a trophy fetish, I guess. 


IT FITS TONY C TO A T.

Maybe this affection is because I long to have all of my Little League trophies back. And nothing speaks to a person's success like a trophy room. I could dim the lights, pour a drink and sit in the middle while Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries blasts from a scratchy LP.

Never mind. Easier just to show off some trophy cards.



GOOD TO SEE THE TROPHY GETTING SOME INK.

TOM'S TERRIFIC TROPHY.

1 comment:

  1. The Billy Williams card actually depicting the trophy being physically awarded to Billy in person seriously creeps me out. There's something existentially wrong with them doing that.

    If I was ever a Topps All-Star Rookie in the 80's or 90's and received an actual bowl for it, I would eat popcorn out of that bowl. Possibly peanuts. Not soup.

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