Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about the IRS delaying the $600 1099-K reporting for another year.

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/irs-again-delays-reporting-rules-for-paypal-venmo-and-cash-app-users/

Topps Archives is one of those sets that give collectors a taste of different set from years past. Unlike Heritage, which only concentrated on one year — this year’s product pays tribute to the 1974 Topps set — Topps Archives spoons out nostalgia in small doses.

This year’s set places its main focus on the 1956, 1965 and 2003 Topps designs. I have always loved the 1965 design, since it was the first set I ever actively collected when I was young. I gained an appreciation for the 1956 set in later years, when I turned to filling in the Topps run from 1952 to the present (still trying).
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I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that the 2003 Topps design is considered for the Archives set, since it seems like I was putting the set together yesterday. But time flies, and it is 20 years old, so it qualifies.

As usual, I bought a blaster box. There are seven packs to a box, with eight cards in each pack. As an added bonus, blasters contain three 1969 Topps Single Player Foil cards. So, 59 cards in this box.

The set contains 300 base cards.

The breakdown among the three sets was fairly even. There were 18 cards from the 2003 set, and 17 apiece from the 1956 and 1965 sets. The 1956 cards are listed as the first 100 in the checklist, with cards 101 to 200 featuring 1965 designs.

​The final 100 base cards showcase the 2003 layout.
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There is a nice mix of rookies, veterans and legends in the base set. The 2003 cards I pulled, for example, included Hall of Famers Satchel Paige, Harmon Killebrew and Roberto Clemente. I did not have any Hall of Famers from the 1965 cards I pulled, although the checklist includes Wade Boggs, Rogers Hornsby, Babe Ruth, Kirby Puckett, Honus Wagner, Randy Johnson, Stan Musial and Mike Piazza.

The 1956 Cooperstown crew I pulled included Tom Seaver, Ken Griffey Jr., Robin Yount and Lou Gehrig.

To throw a curveball at those collectors who are set builders, each year depicted in the Archives set has variations.

The 1956 designs have a white back variation, just like the original set. The difference should be obvious to collectors, but they can be confirmed because the code on the card back ends in 268. In a blaster, the odds of finding such a card is one in every 64 packs. The odds are slightly better for hobby boxes at 1:61, according to Topps.

There are 40 different variation cards from the 1956 design.
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The 1965 Inverted Variations are interesting in the sense that while the main photo remains the same, all of the other elements of the card front are reversed. So, the flag with the team name, and the player name plate and position, along with the Topps logo in the top left-hand corner appear as if someone is holding it up to a mirror.

The code is the same as the 1956 variations, and so are the odds. And there are 35 cards with these variations.

For the 2003 cards, the variations include a foil stamp where the team logo was positioned on the base card. That means toward the lower right side of the card front.

The code ends with 271 and there are 20 card variations.

There is also simply a straight variation card, where one image — or, in the case of the 1956 design, a main and secondary image — are swapped out.
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The chances of finding one in a blaster box are one in 337 packs. Again, the odds are not much better for hobby boxes, with the ratio at 1:332.

I was not fortunate enough to pull any kind of variation card, but then again, I did not expect it. 

I did, however, unwrap a green parallel card from the 1965 design featuring Carlos Rodon. The card was numbered to 99.

There are several inserts in the Archives set that allows Topps to dip deeper into its vault of card designs.

The Baby Bombers is a 25-card subset that borrows from the 1998 Topps set. The card I pulled was Josh Jung.
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The largest insert set is the 1969 Topps Single Player Foil card. There are 60 in the subset and I found three — Mike Trout, Julio Rodriguez and Joey Votto.

The 1989 Doubleheaders insert is a 25-card offering that features a player photograph on each side of the card. They fall about once in every eight packs.

here was a possibility that I might not have pulled such a card, but I did get lucky and found a Padres double-sided card featuring Juan Solo and Fernando Tatis Jr.

Trout was featured in another insert I pulled — the 1957 Topps Hit Stars subset. There are 15 cards in the subset, and they fall approximately once every seven packs.

The 2023 Topps Archives set is a fun one to collect. I love new players featured  on vintage designs, and it is nice to see sharp versions of those layouts. It is not surprising that almost all of the 1956 and 1965 Topps I own have seen better days, so seeing crisp photogrpahy and sharp corners is a treat.

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Abby Doherty, who caught the racquet that Novak Djovokic threw into the crowd after winning the 2016 French Open: 

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/fan-who-caught-djokovics-racquet-after-2016-french-open-win-selling-it-at-scp-auctions/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Grace Enlow, a 108-year-old Detroit-area resident who knitted quilt in 1941 that was signed by members of the New York Yankees:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/stitched-in-time-quilt-with-signatures-of-1941-yankees-headed-auction/​

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about a group of 39 cards from the 1921 Herpolsheimer set -- including nine cards that have never been seen before:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/1921-herpolsheimer-cards-found-in-band-aid-box-headed-to-love-of-the-game-auction-sale/​

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about an equipment bag Jackie Robinson gave away in 1964 to Mike Mathwig, a Dodgers prospect. The bag will be part of a Heritage Auctions sale in November:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/in-the-bag-equipment-bag-jackie-robinson-gave-to-1960s-dodgers-prospect-part-of-heritage-auctions-sale/

I always look forward to Topps’ Allen & Ginter set. I’ve been collecting this eclectic set since it debuted in 2006 and enjoy its diverse subjects and old-time feel.
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So this year, like I usually do with this product, I splurged and bought a hobby box.

The particulars about the set remain the same. There are 300 base cards, with 100 short prints. There are also 300 mini parallels, with 50 short prints.

Topps promises three hits per hobby box. They could be autographs, memorabilia or even rip cards.

​There are also buyback cards featuring original Allen & Ginter cards.

As usual, the subjects run the gamut, featuring baseball players — rookies, veterans and Hall of Famers. Stars from other sports are also represented, along with musicians (Lil Baby, Bun B, Gorilla Nems and DMC), comedians (Kyle Gordon, Adam Ray), sportswriters (Mandy Bell), journalists (Bomani Jones), broadcasters (Ari Chambers), artists (Captain Sandy Yawn), internet celebrities (Myles Montplaisir),  actors (Robert De Niro) and businessmen.
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You get the idea.

The set includes high school female football pioneer Bella Rasmussen, professional Wiffle Ball players Kyle Schultz, and paralympic athlete Zion Clark.

And don’t forget the Mud Guy, Jim Bintliff. You know, the guy who supplies the mud to take the shine off new baseballs.

The box I opened had 141 base cards and 11 short prints. As usual, completing the set is difficult because the short prints are so hard to find. Finishing off the base set is comparatively easy, though.

I’m not sure that I like this year’s design as much as I did with previous years. The art work is still beautiful, but I do not particularly care for the snaking banner that runs down the left side off the card front, across the top and partially down the right side. It is not horrible, but it gets away from the Gilded Age look that made A&G so distinctive.
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The Allen & Ginter name is nearly buried in the top banner, although to be fair, there is a distinctive A&G logo in the bottom left-hand corner.

The card backs remain true to Allen & Ginter’s format since its inception. Baseball players have very formally written statistics. That can avoid embarrassment for some players.

It does not look as bad when JJ Bleday’s card notes that his 2022 batting average was “One Hundred Sixty Seven,” rather than the more traditional .167. Things are looking up, though. He batted “One Hundred Ninety Five” in 2023.

Not trying to pick on Bleday — he has struggled with injuries and is a fine defensive outfielder, turning two double plays in 2023 — but just showing how the formal spellings can make tough statistics seem easier to swallow.

For subjects who are not baseball players, A&G prepares a 10-line biography, emphasizing career highlights and achievements.
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Mini cards fall once in every pack. Most are parallels, although there are some mini insert cards. I pulled 15 minis, two of which were short prints. There were also five mini parallels that had Allen & Ginter backs.

Three of the minis were black bordered. These cards are supposed to fall once in every 11 packs, so getting three was a nice bonus. For collectors who buy retail, there are gold-bordered cards.

Allen & Ginter serves up its usual — and unusual — types of inserts.
The largest subset is the 50-card Spotless Spans insert. These cards highlight a player’s particular streak — for example, Derek Jeter hitting safely in 44 consecutive road games beginning in late August 2006.

I pulled 12 of these cards. These cards are interesting because they play off unusual baseball statistics, which number geeks like me enjoy immensely.

Fun in the Sun is a 15-card subset that highlights fun things to do during the summer. I pulled three of these cards.

Music to Your Ears is a quirky insert, also consisting of 15 cards that feature musical instruments from around the world.
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I was able to find four of these cards in the hobby box I opened.

TALON-ted goes from quirky to “pun-ishing,” with the 20-card set focusing on birds with talons. I pulled five of these cards.

Turning to mini inserts, The World of Wonder has 50 cards and takes the collector on a world tour of breathtaking sites. I found two of these cards in the hobby box I opened.

International Delights contains 20 cards and features culinary dishes from around the world. The card I found was a nice Italian meal — Ragu alla Bolognese.

“Only In …” is a 30-card set that features a notable trait about every MLB stadium. I pulled one card, which featured McCovey Cove at San Francisco’s Oracle Park.

I saw the listing for Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Florida, and I chuckled. “Touchtank in the outfield,” the description reads. It’s a nice feature, but the Trop is noted for those maddening catwalks above the playing field, which can turn an east fly ball into an adventure.
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Just sayin’.

As promised, Topps had three hits in this year’s A&G hobby box—one autograph card and a pair of relics.
The autograph was a framed signature of Cardinals pitcher, while the memorabilia cards featured Braves pitcher Kyle Wright and Diamondbacks outfielder Corbin Carroll.

The box topper in the hobby box I bought was a large base version of Ronald Acuna Jr. Other collectors might find box toppers that are signed, N43 versions (including cards that are autographed) and rip cards.

Not a bad haul. Allen & Ginter is a fun set to collect because it offers such a wide variety of subjects. The inserts can be odd at times, but are always fun to chase.
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Once again, the set did not disappoint. Lots of good points this year. I would have preferred a more traditional A&G design for the card front, but mixing things up can be a good thing, too.

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily previewing the 2023 Topps Tier One baseball set, a high-end product featuring autographs and memorabilia cards:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/2023-topps-tier-one-baseball-is-heavy-on-autographs-relics/
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Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Heritage Auctions' sale in October that includes a photo of a young Lou Gehrig with the Hartford Senators in the early 1920s:

​www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/photo-of-lou-gehrig-with-hartford-senators-up-for-bid-in-heritage-auctions-sale/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Gary Carter, who made his MLB debut on Sept. 16, 1974. Plus, a story I wrote for The Stuart News in 1981 about Carter and his love of collecting baseball cards:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/great-gary-carter-baseball-cards/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Mile High Card Company's September auction, which ended on Sept. 8:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/t206-wagner-authentic-fetches-record-1-968-m-at-mile-highs-september-auction/​

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about a collector who found -- and is now selling --  a rare 1921 Asahira Sporting Goods postcard from Japan of Babe Ruth:

​www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/rare-1921-babe-ruth-postcard-japan-asahina-sporting-goods/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily previewing the 2023 Bowman Chrome baseball set, which will be released next month:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/2023-bowman-chrome-baseball-to-arrive-with-prospects-rookies/​

Here is a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about the Panini-Fanatics dueling lawsuits. I interviewed collectibles attorney Armen Vartian:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/collectibles-attorney-weighs-in-on-panini-fanatics-legal-squabbles/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about Leaf's upcoming debut card set for --- Pickleball!

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/fast-growing-pickleball-is-about-to-get-a-card-set/

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about a convicted card scammer in western New York who was sentenced to prison:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/ny-man-sentenced-to-27-months-in-wire-fraud-case-that-scammed-collectors-out-of-33k/

The 2023 Score football set by Panini America is the first gridiron release this year, and it makes a good impression.

A large checklist that includes a base set supplemented by a 100-card rookie set, is enough to whet any NFL’s fan’s appetite.

The Score set does have 300 base cards that feature veteran players and all-time greats.

I bought a blaster box, and even though I bemoan the rise in prices for cards, I at least felt better after buying the 2023 Score blaster at $24.99. That is because there are 132 cards per box — six packs, with 22 cards to a box.

As a blaster exclusive, Panini is also promising one numbered parallel per box.
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A note about the set: For some reason there is no card No. 331, but two players share No. 301 — Bryce Young and Camerun Peoples.

The box I opened yielded 72 base cards, although it was disappointing that there were three duplicates — Myles Garrett, Zach Martin and Isaiah Hodgins.

The blaster also included four gold parallels, and the numbered card was a Lava parallel of Deuce Vaughn, numbered to 565.

The card front design is vertical, which I love. The player’s name is tastefully presented in yellowish-gold block letters set against a black nameplate.

The photograph that dominates the card front is an action shot that is framed by a thick, angling black line that gives it a die-cut look.

The team logo is beneath the photograph, with the Score logo stamped in silver foil below that.

Flanking the Score logo is the player’s position and his uniform number.

The card backs are also vertical, with the team logo dominated the upper part of the card.
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The player’s name is beneath the logo and an eight-line paragraph detailing highlights and fun facts. The type is ragged center, which is kind of disconcerting, but it is not a distraction — except to me, of course, who prefers ragged right type.

The 2023 Score set features some nice inserts.

Huddle Up is a 15-card subset that sports a horizontal design and features teams huddling up for a play. I pulled five cards, including the Bears, Broncos, Dolphins, Steelers and Titans. The back of the card presents information of each of that team’s starting quarterbacks, who command the call-playing in the huddle.

Celebration, as the name implies, shows players in various stages of celebration after a key play or a clinched victory. There are 25 cards in the subset, and I pulled five of them. The players reveling in my blaster box were Ezekiel Elliott, Danielle Hunter, Aidan Hutchinson, JuJu Smith-Schuster and George Kittle.

The cleverly named Protential insert set includes 25 cards. I managed to pull six of these cards, including Bryce Young, Max Duggan, Michael Mayer, Jahmyr Gibbs and Bijan Robinson.

Sack Attack features defensive stars getting to the quarterback. I pulled four of the 15 cards in the subset — Hutchinson, Micah Parsons, Nick Bosa and Von Miller.

The 10-card 2003 Throwback Rookie Set, uses elements similar to that year’s design from score. I pulled a pair of cards  – Young and Will Anderson.
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First Ballot features 10 players who were inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in their first season of eligibility. The card I pulled was of LaDainian Tomlinson.

The 2023 Score football set is attractive and should be fun for set builders. It should not be too difficult to complete this set.

With NFL training camps already in full swing -- the Hall of Fame Game was already played on Thursday -- this set is a good way to ease back into football card collecting this year.

Ed Kranepool was known as “Steady Eddie” during his 18 seasons with the New York Mets. He joined the club as a 17-year-old late in the franchise’s first season and played his entire major league career in New York.

The nickname is a tribute to Kranepool’s consistency, and also his demeanor as he withstood the Mets’ early growing pains, enjoyed their miracle 1969 season and then endured some lousy seasons after the “You Gotta Believe” pennant-winning season of 1973.

My father, a big Mets fan when my family lived in Brooklyn, New York, during the 1960s, twisted that consistency to some extent. To this day he notes that batting left-handed, Kranepool would “hit a two-hop ground ball to the first baseman” every time he connected.

This is of course, an exaggeration. Kranepool collected 1,418 hits during his major league career. For context, my father also used to complain about “how terrible” the 1972 Miami Dolphins were after every game when we lived in South Florida during the 1970s. “Did you see the Dolphins? They were terrible.”
Yes, the worst team in NFL history with a perfect record. And the only one.
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Those are the kinds of expectations that Kranepool faced. He was an all-star at age 19 during the 1965 season when he wore No. 7 for the first time, which in New York meant Mickey Mantle and the Yankees. And Kranepool grew up in the Bronx, too, rooting for the Yankees and Mantle.

​But Kranepool, 78, has a fascinating perspective on his baseball career and of life, particularly after needing a kidney transplant several years ago. He tells his stories frankly and pulls no punches in his narrative with the assistance of longtime sportswriter Gary Kaschak in The Last Miracle: My 18-Year Journey with the Amazin’ New York Mets (Triumph Books; $30; hardback; 235 pages).
Kranepool chronicles the ups and downs of his career. He chafed at being platooned and being labeled a role player, but he also excelled. In 1974 he set the all-time season record for average by a pinch hitter with 30 at-bats or more when he hit .486. During his career, Kranepool would collect 90 hits — including six home runs — off the bench.
Kranepool grew up playing baseball in the Castle Hill Playground in the southeastern section of the Bronx, “a melting pot of race, religion, color; you name it.”
He also grew up without a father. Sgt. Edward Emil Kranepool Jr. was killed World War II at Saint-Lô, France, on July 28, 1944, nearly four months before his son was born. The elder Kranepool was 31.

That left Kranepool in a home with his mother, Ethel Hasselback Kranepool, and an older sister, Marilyn. The father figure in Kranepool’s life would be his next door neighbor and first Little League coach, Jimmy Schiafo.

Kranepool has a unique perspective about the Mets, since his career began during the team’s infancy. He watched as Casey Stengel deflected the team’s miserable play and put the focus on himself as the franchise brought in over-the-hill players who still had marquee value.

“He’d battle for you and protect you and take all the heat from the press when he had to,” Kranepool said.

Kranepool is candid in his belief that he was promoted to the majors too quickly, that he needed more seasoning “physically and mentally.” Because of his age, some of Kranepool’s teammates were twice his age, and he concedes that the Mets “force-fed me to the major leagues.” Not that he objected at the time, but an older and wiser Kranepool understands now how more time in the minor leagues would have helped his development.
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Besides, he saw some bizarre things with the Mets: Jimmy Piersall running backward for his 100th career home run; witnessing a no-hitter on his first day as a major leaguer (Sandy Koufax won a 5-0 gem on June 30, 1962), and watching a triple play on the final day of the ’62 season (the Cubs pulled off the triple-killing in the eighth inning at Wrigley Field to stifle a rally and preserve Chicago’s 5-1 win – and clinch New York’s 120th loss of the season).

Kranepool had a precarious relationship with Gil Hodges, the manager who took the Mets out of mediocrity and led them to a World Series title in 1969.

He credited Hodges for teaching him “so much about the game and being a man” and wishing he had been his manager early in his career.

But the relationship was not always smooth.

Kranepool had an outburst against Hodges in 1968 after going 0-for-3 against Chris Short in a Sept. 21 game at Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia. After he was lifted for a pinch hitter, Kranepool said he told Hodges, “if you’re so smart, you should have done it four hours ago.”

Bad move. Hodges kept him on the bench for the rest of the season, except for a pinch-hitting appearance on Sept. 27 in which he struck out.

“I could have kicked myself for mouthing off because then I spent the whole winter wondering if I was gonna get traded or if they’d acquire another first baseman,” Kranepool writes.

But when Kranepool got into a scrap with infielder Tim Foli in 1970, Hodges took his side.

“Hodges wasn’t the kind of manager who’d actually say things are good now,” Kranepool writes. “But I knew that as long as I performed and didn’t mouth off, from that point on, he was in my corner.

“Hodges made a difference,” Kranepool said on the eve of his former manager’s induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 2022. “He was the leader we sorely needed.”

Kranepool brings the reader into the locker room for the Mets’ unlikely run to glory in 1969 and spins warm, funny stories along with great detail about the games.
​
He hit a home run in Game 3 of the 1969 World Series and would deliver a key two-run single in Game 5 of the 1973 National League Championship Series.

There is fun stuff, too. Kranepool writes about his appearance doing counting segments with teammate Art Shamsky on Sesame Street. Kranepool said he became very popular with the children in his neighborhood after that, not because he was a baseball player, but because he was Big Bird’s friend.

He also writes about an April 4, 1979, skit on Saturday Night Live, when he participated in a spring training “interview” with Bill Murray about fictional baseball player Chico Escuela (played by Garrett Morris in halting English – “baseball been berry good to me”) and his “controversial” book, Bad Stuff About the Mets.

“Well, you know Chico was a pretty good player for us in ’69 and ’73, but that book he wrote – a couple of us got hurt pretty bad from that,” Kranepool deadpans. “He shouldn’t have wrote it.”

He also debunks Escuela’s contention that Tom Seaver “always take up two parking places” and that Kranepool “borrowed Chico’s soap and never give it back.”

In real life, Kranepool pulls no punches. He expresses disdain for the late Karl Ehrhardt, the “Sign Man” who used to flash witty (and sometimes critical) placards at Shea Stadium. Kranepool said that Erhardt held up a sign that read “Big Stiff” every time he came to bat.

“He was nothing but a negative person, and I didn’t think what he did was funny,” Kranepool writes.

Kranepool said he also “held resentment” against Gene Mauch, who managed the National League in the 1965 All-Star Game and “hardly substituted at all,” meaning the Mets’ all-star watched the entire game from the bench.

The NL won the game 6-5 and had a roster containing 13 future Hall of Famers.
After that, “I tried to beat him, I tried to impress him,” and at the end of his career, when Kranepool received a telephone call from Mauch about possibly playing for Minnesota, he turned him down and retired instead.

“I held a grudge until the day I retired,” Kranepool writes.

He would dabble in the restaurant business with teammate Ron Swoboda (who wrote the foreword to Kranepool’s book), and was a stockbroker for five years during the offseason.

The blockbuster trade that sent franchise pitcher Tom Seaver to the Cincinnati Reds, in 1977, was unpopular with Mets fans and players. And Kranepool called it a key moment in franchise history.

“That was really the dagger of the many turning points to the Mets’ downfall,” Kranepool writes, placing the blame for the trade on then-general manager Joe McDonald.
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Kranepool also has salty words for Joe Torre, his former teammate, roommate and manager. He writes that he had a handshake agreement from his manager that he would be a starter in 1978, but it did not happen.

“He pushed aside a few people like me and never gave me an opportunity,” Kranepool writes. “He let you rot.”

When Kranepool wanted to be a player/coach on Torre’s staff, he asked the manager to intercede on his behalf with the front office, but “he couldn’t help me,” he writes.

Words were exchanged, and “he went one way, and I went the other way,” Kranepool writes.

“And to this day, I want nothing to do with him.”

Kranepool’s departure from the Mets left a bitter taste. He was 35 and had spent 18 seasons in New York, and the way his career ended “never sat well with me,” as he was never considered for a place in the organization.

“I’d given 18 years and just like that was an afterthought,” he writes.

But health issues pushed those emotions aside. Kranepool had diabetes, three foot surgeries and would require a kidney transplant.

Finding a match for the kidney was a miracle in itself, and Kranepool’s gratitude shines through as he tells an unlikely but heartwarming story that involved a police officer, a firefighter, the fireman’s wife and a retired baseball player.

Then, Kranepool’s wife, Monica, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, a frightening prospect. But six hours of surgery and four more treatments left her without any signs of cancer.
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“I’d had my miracle with my kidney transplant, and now my wife had hers,” Kranepool writes.

There are a few glitches in this autobiography. One concerned the 1969 division races, when Kranepool mentions that victories against the San Diego Padres were crucial, especially with the Giants and Dodgers in the running for the NL West title.

“We knew we’d be facing Juan Marichal and Gaylord Perry and possibly (Sandy) Koufax later on,” he writes.

Koufax retired after the 1966 season, and the only way he would have been in the ballpark was as a color commentator for NBC Sports.

Kranepool eventually healed his rift with the Mets and was inducted into the team’s Hall of Fame in 1990. He also was inducted into the New York State Baseball Hall of Fame in 2013.

It is true, Kranepool writes, that he was a survivor — on the field and off. He was with the Mets when the only entertainment came from Stengel’s ramblings and Bill Gallo’s cartoons in the Daily News featuring the disheveled but loyal fan, Basement Bertha. He tasted sweet victory with the Mets’ World Series win in 1969, even though he was a platoon player, and endured the years of mediocrity after the Mets reached the postseason again in 1973.

He was never traded and still holds several team records, and his health has improved since his kidney transplant.

In a July 7, 1975, feature, Sports Illustrated noted that Kranepool was “more a Met than any other man who has worn the uniform, more than the Throneberrys and Kanehls who made them amazin', and the Seavers and Koosmans who made them successful.”

Truly, Ed Kranepool is  the ultimate Met.

“I had my share of miracles on and off the field,” Kranepool writes. “I finally realized that I wasn’t the odd man out. I was the odd man in.”

Steady Eddie forever.

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about a T206 "Slow" Joe Doyle error card heading to auction:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/recently-discovered-t206-slow-joe-doyle-error-card-headed-to-rea-auction/

Here's a story I wrote foe Sports Collectors Daily about several Tall Boy cards selling at a PWCC Marketplace auction. Among them was a Pete Maravich rookie card that sold for a record $552,000:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/pete-maravich-rookie-card-record-price/

Here is a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily previewing the 2023 Topps Chrome baseball set, which is scheduled to be released in late July:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/2023-topps-chrome-baseball-preview-buy/

At first blush, the 2023 Leaf Draft football set sounds good. There are 20 packs in a blue blaster box, with a guarantee of two autograph cards.

The problem comes with collation. A collector these days has become spoiled by card companies’ collation. You don’t see duplicates very often, even in a blaster.

Well, it happened in the one I bought. The 20 packs yielded 51 base cards out of the 100-card set, but eight of them were duplicates. And considering that there were mostly two — and sometimes three — base cards in each pack, that means about four packs contained doubles.

Call me spoiled, but if I get 51 base cards, I expect them all to be different.
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For set collectors, this can be maddening, particularly when there were 49 parallels in the blaster — plus two autograph cards on stickers.
The parallels can be found in blue, gold, green and red.

Leaf has a nice breakdown of cards into different subset. The first 10 cards are called “First Overall” and feature players selected No. 1 in the NFL in certain years. Not sure if starting off the set with O.J. Simpson as card No. 1 is a great idea, but that is certainly a conversation starter.

Other No. 1s include the three I pulled, like Bruce Smith, Bo Jackson and Peyton Manning.

Card No. 11 features Caleb Williams, the 2022 Heisman Trophy winner, as an All-American, while Nos. 12-17 are Award Winner cards. I pulled Bijan Robinson (Doak Walker winner), Brock Bowers (John Mackey recipient) and Max Duggan (Davey O’Brien winner).

Card Nos. 18-31 are designated as base cards, and I pulled five of those, including one of draft analyst Mel Kiper Jr.

Cue up the “Who in the hell is Mel Kiper, anyway?” video from the 1994 NFL draft, when Indianapolis Colts general manager Bill Tobin ripped into ESPN’s draft guru.

Classic television.

As a side note, one of the gold parallels I pulled from one of the packs was of  NFL draft expert Todd McShay, who was one of nearly two dozen ESPN personalities laid off on Friday.

Tough times in TV land.

The next subset consists of base ARC cards, from Nos. 32-38. That is followed by base XRC cards (Nos 39-75); I pulled 17 of those cards.

The next two subsets focus on upcoming draft classes. Class of 2024 (Nos. 76-81) is followed by Class of 2025 (Nos. 82-86). I pulled three cards from the former — including Williams — and one from the latter.

Nos. 87-94 are dubbed QB Kings and I had five of those, including Bryce Young, Anthony Richardson and Stetson Bennett.
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The final six cards in the base set are called TD Kings, and I pulled two cards. The design for these cards are kind of punky, with the quarterback set against a backdrop of bricks and a graffiti-sprayed crown.

That was the only sketchy design. For the most part, Leaf’s design choices are simple and look good. The card fronts for many of the base cards feature an action shot of the player framed by a gray-white border. The Leaf logo is beneath the action shot, with the player’s nameplate anchoring the bottom of the card.

Most of these cards have vertical layouts for the card fronts, which I prefer.

The card backs feature the same player photo, but with player position and vital statistics. A short biography, about seven or eight lines, gives the collector some highlights or fun facts about the player. The design is also vertical, and it works nicely.

The card stock is thin, unfortunately, so be careful handling these cards.

As for parallels, there were seven blues, 12 golds, 16 greens and 14 reds.

To be honest, I liked the parallels better than the base cards because they were more colorful. But the restrained color pattern for the base cards is nice, too.

The two autographs in the box were a base card of Isaiah McGuire, the former Missouri defensive end who was picked in the fourth round by the Cleveland Browns; and Khalan Laborn, a running back who played at Florida State and Marshall and was signed as a free agent on May 1 by the San Francisco 49ers.

Overall, I’d call this set average. If you’re big into rookies and future stars, this is a good way to get started. The set is probably easy to complete, although those duplicates are kind of annoying.

If you are not into set building, Leaf does offer two other options in its Draft product. Red blasters have three autographs and contain 20 packs, while Gold blasters have three autographs and a 10-card set. Purple blasters have two signature cards and a 10-card set.
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The choice is yours.

Writers who accept tough challenges fascinate me. I admire their determination in bringing some clarity to a murky subject.
Robert F. Garratt admits up front that writing about the life of Charles Stoneham, who owned the New York Giants baseball team from 1919 until his death in 1936 at the age of 59, was “a distinct challenge.”
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That is an understatement. Stoneham, who bought the New York Giants from the Brush family with partners Francis X. McQuade and Giants manager John J. McGraw, formed the National Exhibition Company.

McGraw, the face of the Giants since 1902, would win four consecutive National League pennants and two World Series titles in the early 1920s. Stoneham, meanwhile, was a shadowy figure at best, content to stay in the background. The Stoneham family would own the franchise for nearly 58 years, moving it west to San Francisco after the 1957 season before selling it to Bob Lurie in 1976.
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Stoneham was a complicated figure, and Garratt makes a strong attempt at sharpening the hazy perception of the franchise owner in Jazz Age Giant: Charles A. Stoneham & New York City Baseball in the Roaring Twenties (University of Nebraska Press; $29.95; hardback; 215 pages).

​Garratt does not succeed completely, but his work is definitely the most thorough look at Stoneham to date. Stoneham had a shadowy past and became wealthy through his Wall Street business dealings because “he had an uncommon talent for the ‘Street,’” the Brooklyn Daily Eagle wrote in his obituary.
Garratt, an emeritus professor of English and humanities at the University of Puget Sound, grew up in the San Francisco area and was a fan of the Giants. He initially researched the Giants’ move from New York to San Francisco and its impact on the Bay Area.
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That resulted in his 2017 book, Home Team: The Turbulent History of the San Francisco Giants. The book, which examined the Giants’ relationship with San Francisco, the legacy of treacherous Candlestick and the team’s success during the 2010s, earned him finalist honors for the Seymour Medal.
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He was pitted against some stiff competition for the 2018, award, including winner Jerald Podair (City of Dreams) and finalists Marty Appel (Casey Stengel), John Eisenberg (The Streak) and Debra Shattuck (Bloomer Girls).

It is interesting to note that Steven Treder’s 2021 biography of Stoneham’s son, Forty Years a Giant: The Life of Horace Stoneham, won the Seymour Medal in 2022. There is something about the Stoneham family that intrigues baseball history lovers.
 
Garratt takes an interesting approach to Charles Stoneham’s life, suggesting that there was a parallel between the Giants owner and Jay Gatsby, the main character in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel, The Great Gatsby. And he hammers the comparison home in every chapter, with a lead-in that contains a quote from the novel.
 
Stoneham’s lavish parties and love for the night life gave the New York tabloids ample fodder during the Prohibition Era. The fact that he had two distinct families at the same time also had tongues wagging, even during the hedonistic Roaring Twenties.

Very Gatsby-esque.

Stoneham got rich through the stock market during the first quarter of the 20th century, running “bucket shops.”
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According to the Cornell Law School, bucket shops in the early 1900s were gambling operations that permitted “common people” to bet on stocks and other markets. Ordinary citizens were able to invest in markets, but their purchases were highly speculative and businessmen like Stoneham were easily able to turn a profit.

Stoneham began his career as a board boy in a brokerage firm but eventually formed his own company. When he took over the Giants, his Wall Street background was a major topic.

“Curb broker to be president,” the New York Tribune wrote in January 1919.

But Stoneham got out of the brokerage business by 1921, because he wanted to devote “full-time attention” to the sporting life, and specifically, the Giants, Garratt writes. The other reason was more in tune to Stoneham’s business acumen.

He realized that because the stock market was “heating up,” it would no longer favor his “bucket shop” style of investing.

“Stoneham’s company depended on a falling market to maximize its profits,” Garratt writes.

Stoneham made no secret of his relationship to men like Arnold Rothstein, the man credited as the mastermind behind the 1919 World Series Black Sox scandal. Stoneham would be indicted three times, tried for perjury and acquitted. His battles for control of the Giants with McQuade, and lawsuits over his connections to various brokerage firms that had failed, would sap the joy of winning four pennants from 1921 to 1924.

In 1924, Stoneham was indicted for mail fraud in the transfer of accounts to E.D. Dier and Company. Two years earlier, he was awash in legal battles with the firm of E.M. Fuller and Company, a business that had filed for bankruptcy and claimed that Stoneham was a silent partner.

“For the foreseeable future, Stoneham would find his world turned upside down,” Garratt writes.

The Fuller-McGee case (named for owners Edward M. Fuller and William McGee) took four years to resolve, and Stoneham would be indicted for perjury in August 1923. On the positive side, Stoneham was acquitted of mail fraud charges stemming from the Dier case in February 1925. Stoneham’s indictment for perjury in the Fuller case was dismissed in early 1927.

For those reasons, baseball executives like American League President Ban Johnson never hid his distaste for Stoneham. As a possible gambling scandal loomed on the eve of the 1924 World Series, Johnson blasted the Giants owner as “the worst influence we have in organized baseball,” according to the New York Daily News. “He and John McGraw must be driven from the game.”

Garratt notes that Stoneham and McGraw were “Jazz Age dreamers,” and the move that typified their pie-in-the-sky hopes to bring the Giants back to prominence in the late 1920s was the trade that brought Rogers Hornsby to New York.
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The Giants were looking for a player to match the star power of Babe Ruth in New York, and while Hornsby could hit, his demeanor and penchant for bluntness made him few friends — if he cursed, the Rajah’s favorite four-letter word was not “tact.”

The experiment lasted a year, until Stoneham traded Hornsby in a ridiculously one-sided deal that favored the Boston Braves — on paper, at least. Hornsby would wear out his welcome in Boston as well before landing with the Chicago Cubs.

Stoneham’s squabbles with McQuade, which simmered during the early 1920s, boiled over in 1928 when the owner got enough votes to remove McQuade as team treasurer.

While McQuade’s removal was “personally satisfying” for Stoneham, the legal entanglements over the next six years would be a “continuing distraction” for the Giants, Garratt writes. Stoneham would prevail after appealing a lower court ruling against him as McQuade’s complaint was dismissed by the New York State Supreme Court.

On the field, Stoneham would have one final year of glory when the Giants won the 1922 N.L. pennant and then rolled past the Washington Senators in the World Series.

Stoneham also finally received some respect from his fellow owners as a “wise senior counselor,” Garratt writes. That was a far cry from his entrance into the owners’ club, where he was viewed as “an interloper, a monied, shady businessman with a fondness for horses and gambling.”

Stoneham will always remain a hazy figure, feeling no need to call attention to himself, Garratt writes. Even as his health declined, Stoneham remained a silent figure.

His business deeds, however, spoke loudly.

“As the generous host, he was often in the background,” content to let others grab the spotlight, he writes. In a city like New York, where the spotlight shone brightly on public figures, that was quite a feat.

Garratt describes Stoneham as a businessman who was “unscrupulous and ruthless,” a serial philanderer and a quasi-bigamist and a private man without a close friend.

“He was paunchily fat, and his collar met his jowls,” sportswriter Paul Gallico wrote in November 1934, comparing the Stoneham to the 1920s to a slimmer version in the 1930s.

In Garratt’s final analysis, Stoneham’s complicated and spirited life “epitomized the Jazz Age.”
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Jazz Age Giant is well-researched, complemented by plenty of notes. Garratt writes simply and smoothly, explaining complicated subjects in a clear manner.
The life of Charles Stoneham may never be crystal clear, but Garratt helps bring it into focus.

Here's a story I wrote for Sports Collectors Daily about the 1950 Scott's Potato Chips cards and the man who desigmed them:

www.sportscollectorsdaily.com/rare-minneapolis-lakers-regional-set-has-deep-history-with-artists-family/

It is mind-boggling that Fernando Valenzuela burst onto the major league baseball scene more than 40 year ago.

It seems like only yesterday that the 20-year-old left-hander from Etchohuaquila, Mexico, was baffling hitters with his screwball, looking skyward as he wheeled toward the plate.

As a young sportswriter in South Florida with The Stuart News in May 1981, I got to sit in on a national telephone conference call that included Valenzuela; his interpreter, longtime Spanish broadcaster Jaime Jarrin; Los Angeles Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda; and several members of the team.

Valenzuela had begun the 1981 season with a 7-0 record and a ridiculously low 0.29 ERA.

“To be honest with you I didn’t think I’d get that far,” Valenzuela said at the time through his interpreter. “Before the season it never came to mind.”

“You can’t do that with mirrors or with luck,” Lasorda added. “Amazingly, nothing seems to rattle him. The guy makes the right pitch at the right time.”

It was an exciting time. Valenzuela would post a 13-7 record during the strike-marred split season of 1981 and pitched to a 2.48 ERA. He would win the National League Cy Young Award and was the third consecutive Dodger to win Rookie of the Year honors (pitchers Rick Sutcliffe and Steve Howe preceded him and infielder Steve Sax would win in 1982).

Valenzuela spawned what would be known as “Fernandomania,” a baseball and cultural phenomenon. “El Toro” pitched in the majors for 17 seasons — 11 in Los Angeles — and earned 141 of his career 173 victories while wearing Dodger blue.

That is what author Erik Sherman captures so well in his latest book, Daybreak at Chavez Ravine: Fernandomania and the Remaking of the Los Angeles Dodgers (University of Nebraska Press; $32.95; hardback; 249 pages)

Baseball needed Fernandomania. And more specifically, the Dodgers needed it.

The team performed well on the field and won National League pennants in 1963, 1965, 1966, 1974, 1977 and 1978, but the franchise had never found a way to soothe the bitterness of the Mexican American community. Latinos in the Los Angeles area had never forgiven the city of Los Angeles and Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley for cutting a deal to build a stadium at Chavez Ravine, which displaced hundreds of families during the late 1950s.

During the early 1950s, the city evicted approximately 300 families so a low-income, publicly funded housing project could be built. However, Los Angeles sold the land to O’Malley and the evicted residents — who had been promised the first pick for apartments in the proposed Chavez Ravine housing projects — were left holding the bag and were not reimbursed.

It came down to a contentious referendum, called Proposition B, to build the stadium, and O’Malley — who had pulled up stakes in Brooklyn to move west — won by 24,293 votes out of a total of 666,577.

O’Malley built Dodger Stadium, a magnificent complex that opened on April 10, 1962, but Mexican American fans stayed away in droves. It did not help that in May 1959, television cameras recorded deputies carrying residents from their frame houses in Chavez Ravine as bulldozers knocked down the structures, according to Andy McCue’s 2014 book, Mover & Shaker.

Bad for public relations, although city officials blamed the media for turning the eviction into “a cartoon morality play,” McCue would write.

Despite the Dodgers winning six pennants and two World Series at Dodger Stadium, Mexican American fans were hard to find. Even the three pennants during the 1970s did not help.

Valenzuela changed that. Here was a humble man who did not seek the spotlight, yet he possessed the kind of charisma that turned Dodger Stadium into a citadel of Mexican American pride. His physique and looks reminded many Latinos of “a Mexican uncle or cousin,” Sherman writes. “But he was an everyman who was doing incredible things. And he belonged to them.”

Valenzuela’s impact on the Latinos “was more impactful and profound than any no-hitter or World Series he ever pitched,” Sherman writes.

Longtime Dodgers broadcaster Vin Scully would observe that Fernandomania looked like “an almost religious experience.”  Sportswriter Lyle Spencer told Sherman that “Fernandomania was a full-on festival every time he pitched.”

Pressed into action in 1981 when Jerry Reuss was scratched due to calf injury, Valenzuela became the first Dodgers rookie to start on Opening Day. It was also his first major-league start and he pitched a five-hit shutout.

Sherman guides the reader through Valenzuela’s blazing impact, when he first 12 starts at Dodger Stadium were sellouts. He is familiar with writing about baseball and digging nuggets out of his extensive research, which is also on display in Daybreak at Chavez Ravine.

Sherman has written books about the 1986 Mets (Kings of Queens), the 1986 Boston Red Sox (Two Sides of Glory) and co-authored autobiographies with Davey Johnson, Glenn Burke, Steve Blass and Mookie Wilson.
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Sherman’s 2019 book, After the Miracle, with Art Shamsky, was a warm and poignant look at the 1969 New York Mets.
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Valenzuela declined to participate in Sherman’s latest project, but that enabled the author, podcaster and 2023 inductee into the New York State Baseball Hall of Fame to interview former teammates and opponents. Those interviews provided a fuller, more analytical look at Valenzuela.

Sherman pulls out rich, insightful observations from a diverse group of players, including Valenzuela’s teammates — Dusty Baker, Rick Monday, Jerry Reuss and Steve Garvey, to name a few. Dodgers scout Mike Brito, Jarrin and even opponents like pitchers Bill Lee and Jeff Reardon also offer valuable perspective.

“He captured everyone’s attention,” Monday told Sherman. “Not right away, but when he did, he owned it.”

Valenzuela’s success in 1981 caught all of baseball flat-footed.

“I wasn’t thinking he was going to be the ace of the staff — that’s for sure,” former Dodgers executive Fred Claire told Sherman.
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Sherman writes about Valenzuela’s lunch with President Ronald Reagan and Mexico’s president, José López Portillo, a monumental day for a 20-year-old rookie who still took it all in stride. Valenzuela’s career was much more successful than that of Portillo, who was Mexico’s leader from 1976 to 1982. The New York Times reported in Portillo’s 2004 obituary that he brought Mexico to “the brink of economic collapse” and “was considered one of the most incompetent leaders of Mexico's modern era and his government among the most corrupt.”

Fernandomania, on the other hand, did not seem to have any limits, Sherman writes. Remember, he starred in the era before social media and modern marketing savvy, but it was not unusual to see homemade images of Valenzuela on T-shirts, posters and murals. Valenzuela was selective in what products to advertise but became wealthy.

The baseball strike certainly prevented Valenzuela from winning 20 games in 1981, but the eight-week stoppage, which forced the cancellation of 713 games, also afforded him a chance to rest and recharge. After an 8-0 start, Valenzuela was 9-4 but still led the league in complete games, innings pitched shutouts and strikeouts. The man needed a break.

The Dodgers got one too, as it was determined that teams leading their divisions when the strike began would be declared first-half champions and would earn a spot in the playoffs regardless of how they performed. It was a quirk that prevented the Cincinnati Reds, who had the league’s best record but finished second in both halves — from competing in the postseason.
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When baseball returned, Valenzuela was the starting pitcher for the N.L. in the All-Star Game. He would be named to the All-Star team six times during his career.

​As for the Dodgers, the 1981 playoffs would be a study in determination. Down 0-2 to Houston in the divisional series, Los Angeles would win the next three games at Dodger Stadium to advance. That included a Game 4 complete-game victory pitched by Valenzuela, as the left-hander had a 1.06 ERA against the Astros.

Against the Montreal Expos in the NLCS, the Dodgers prevailed in five games when Valenzuela pitched a gritty 2-1 victory that was helped by Monday’s clutch home run that snapped a 1-1 tie with two outs in the top of the ninth inning.

The Expos were managed in the playoffs by Jim Fanning, who took over for Dick Williams. Sherman described Williams as having a “vinegary personality.”
That’s an understatement.

During spring training in 1981 I approached Williams at Municipal Stadium in West Palm Beach because I was writing a story about Gary Carter, specifically about his baseball card collection. I introduced myself and started to ask if he had a minute to talk about Carter. He looked at me and asked, “Who are you with again?”

When I told him, he shook his head, turned on his heel and walked away, saying, “Nahhh.”

I must have looked shocked, since New York Yankees manager Gene Michael was standing nearby, laughing.

“Don’t worry, kid, he’s always like that,” Michael chuckled.

Well, that was a nice consolation. He certainly lived up to his name.

In the 1981 World Series, Valenzuela helped the Dodgers dig out of a 2-0 series deficit with a 5-4 victory in Game 3 against the New York Yankees. It was Valenzuela’s final appearance of the season, and while he was not sharp, he still battled with grim determination.

Reuss told Sherman that the effort was impressive because he did not have his best stuff.

“I imagine every time Van Gogh picked up a paintbrush, he didn’t create a masterpiece,” Reuss said.

Valenzuela had plenty of them in 1981, and the Dodgers would win their first World Series title since 1965.
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The losing pitcher in Game 3, George Frazier, who died on June 19 at the age of 68, became an unfortunate answer to a trivia question. He would become the first pitcher to legitimately lose three games in the World Series, as he was also saddled with losses in Games 4 and 6.
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Claude Williams, who pitched for the Chicago White Sox in the 1919 World Series, also lost three games, but the team was later found to have thrown the postseason series, according to the Society for American Baseball Research. Williams was not one of the eight “Black Sox” players implicated in the scandal, by the way.

Of course, Valenzuela’s career did not begin and end with the 1981 season. There were other seasons, other accolades and other feats — 21 wins in 1986, a no-hitter in 1990, and 13 wins in 1996 as he helped the surprising San Diego Padres win the N.L. West.

But the 1981 season was magical.
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The only glitch I saw in Sherman’s work was his statement that Hideo Nomo was the first Japanese-born player to reach the majors. That honor actually went to another pitcher, Masanori Murakami, who made his debut with the San Francisco Giants in 1964, according to MLB and documented by Robert K. Fitts in his wonderful 2015 biography, Mashi.

Sherman ends his work by wondering why Valenzuela’s No. 34 had not been retired, although no one has worn it since he has left the Dodgers. That oversight will be corrected in August, when his uniform will be retired during ceremonies and events during a three-game stretch.

Sherman’s research, coupled with his interviewing skills, makes for a compelling narrative.

Valenzuela “was like a composite of the Beatles — only in Dodger blue,” Sherman writes in his preface. “His appeal was universal. “He wasn’t just a baseball player, he was a healer in a time when, much like today, many Americans viewed Mexicans as second-class citizens.

“He was to Latinos what Jackie Robinson was to Black Americans. And their feelings for Valenzuela have only grown stronger over the years.”

“He’s for real,” teammate Davey Lopes said during that 1981 conference call.
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He still is, and remains a revered figure in Dodgers history. Sherman does a wonderful job of piercing through Valenzuela’s quiet shell to paint a complete picture of a beloved figure.