Ty Cobb

The Topps trading card company included ten 'All-Time All-Stars' with their 1976 set. One of those ten players was Ty Cobb.

I had heard of Ty Cobb by the time I was nine years old. I knew he had a kick ass lifetime average of .367, because it said so right there on the back of his card. 

This told me he must have been pretty good. However, I had a hard time believing that, based on the front side.

It seemed like I'd get a Ty Cobb card within every other pack. I clearly remember having at least twenty of them. My best friend and main (i.e.-'only') trading partner Jeff had at least a dozen of them too, so his trade value was essentially worthless in my neighborhood. Every time I'd spot him when flipping through a newly purchased pack for that first time, I'd groan.

My nine year old mind was full of skepticism when it came to Ty Cobb, beginning with his running ability. Did he even know how to run properly? It appears he's turning the corner at third base and about to head towards home, but his balance seemed questionable at best and on top of that, his eyes look like they're closed in the photo. Seriously, who runs like that?

On top of that, it's not completely clear he's even on a baseball field. There does appear to be an outfield wall in the distance and there may in fact be dirt defining the basepaths, but a part of me wondered if they dressed him in a Tigers uniform, then took this picture while he was running through Farmer Brown's cow pasture. Is he trying to score a run or avoid a bull?

Babe Ruth was in the set of ten greats. I never questioned his greatness because, well, what kid didn't know about Babe Ruth? Lou Gehrig and Walter Johnson were both included and they too were unquestionable legends in my mind. When I got duplicates of those cards, I added them to my collection without complaint.

But this guy Ty Cobb? I didn't understand how he was considered an all time great. As a nine year old boy who could run swiftly with balance (not to mention with his eyes open!) and one who spent his free time on baseball fields and not cow pastures, I wasn't buying into it. 

Baseball cards helped shape my world in the '70's. 

Those shapes didn't always fit with reality.

Soulmates

Soulmate-A person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet--a connection so strong you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before.

Usually the definition above applies to one's romantic partner. For me, it was different. My soulmate is my oldest son.

I met my soulmate in a Janesville apartment in the spring of '95. I had gone out with his mother however many times before, and now she decided it was time for me to meet her children, so I drove from Beloit to her apartment to meet them.

Her daughter (age 11) was home sick from school that day. Her son was also home. He was four years old.

I wasn't there long before I sat down on the couch. A minute or so after that, this little boy had positioned himself with his back to me and he was walking backwards toward me with a book in his hands. It was obvious he wanted to sit on my lap and have me read to him, so I picked him up and did just that. Shortly thereafter I noticed his mother staring at us with her mouth agape.

I was immediately concerned that I was doing something upsetting to her, so I paused from reading the book to him and said, 'Am I doing something wrong?' She said, 'No. It's just that he doesn't do that with strangers. Ever.'

A special relationship was born.

My oldest son was born with cognitive delays. When I met him, he was a lot like a two year old boy developmentally. He has never had a specific diagnosis (i.e.-autism) and I've never thought there really was a need for one. His brain simply works differently than most. It takes him longer to grasp some concepts, other concepts are quite difficult for him to understand, and critical thinking skills have always been problematic for him.

I fell in love with that little boy over time and after I married his mother, I adopted both of my wife's children and shared with them my surname and unconditional love.

Over the years I have witnessed more landmark moments in his life than I can count. Some of those moments had added significance, considering his cognitive challenges. Each and every time he has reached one, I've cried tears of pride and joy.

One of those moments occurred in early October of 2012. You see, my boy made one of his dreams come true when he moved into his own apartment. He has proven he can handle the responsibility, as it's now been over a year and he continues to live there.

Today he is a lot like the third graders I teach when it comes to his cognitive abilities. He works part time, takes the bus around town when need be, does his own chores/laundry, and loves life and the important people he has in it. He is as friendly of an individual as you'll ever meet, and you may find yourself being given a hug for no reason when talking with him sometimes, just because that's who he is.

 To say he loves his independence would be a vast understatement and he is so proud that he'll tell random people when we're at the grocery store or out to eat together, with statements out of the blue such as, 'I have my own apartment!' The excited tone in his voice remains a year plus later and it'll probably be there 20 and 30 years from now too.

I love all of my children equally, unconditionally, and immeasurably. With my oldest son though, there's the added feeling that I was just *meant* to find him in this crazy world, and that he was meant to find me.

I know many, many good people in life. Some of those people have said things such as, 'He is so lucky to have you' to me over the years. While I appreciate the compliment and understand its nature, I feel like they have it backwards. You see, I'm the lucky one to have him. Sure, I've taught him many things about life, from his ABC's to playing baseball and much more. However, I can say this without hesitation:

Tyler has taught me more about life than anyone I've ever known. Oh yes, I am most definitely the lucky one to have found him.

If you know him, you already know how special he is. If you have yet to meet him, I hope that maybe I've helped you learn how this world is a better place because he's in it.

'One day' has arrived!

After an almost 40 year wait (http://kevburgh23.blogspot.com/2014/01/1974-topps-baseball.html), I am the proud owner of the 1974 Topps Baseball Set as of today. And I must say.............

                                                                             I

                                                                             am

                                                                             head

                                                                              over

 
                                                                             heels

                                                                               in

                                                                      LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!

1977 Topps

Once upon a time, two team's baseball cards mystified me.

On November 5th, 1976 the Toronto Blue Jays and Seattle Mariners added the first players to their rosters via an expansion draft.

I was nine years old at the time.

I had read about this development in the newspaper, but those were just words in print. I didn't see any photographic evidence of the league's expansion until I saw Toronto and Seattle cards from the 1977 Topps Baseball set for the first time.

The league's expansion became a reality for me on that day. Then, as if to remind me that it wasn't a dream, I would get a Mariner or Blue Jay card in nearly every pack I purchased. Repeatedly seeing cards for these two new franchises slowly helped me realize that it was all true. There really were two new teams born in the off season and I was getting a sneak preview of their roster and uniforms within seemingly every pack of cards I opened that winter.

These franchises named their managers and they each received a card in the '77 Topps set, more evidence that these teams would indeed take the field come that April.

I remember announcing to my friend Jeff that the Blue Jays would be better than the Mariners because they had a much cooler logo on their caps and their team uniforms had 'better colors'. You'd expect a nine year old to decide on the better team in a different way?

It's now 37 years later. I understand the world a lot more clearly than I did in early 1977. I understand that expansion means more money for the league. I understand that teams don't perform any better or worse than another based on their team logo or uniform colors. I understand that I didn't fully understand how two new teams could be created out of thin air as a nine year old boy.

Today Toronto and Seattle are just two teams amidst a league that expanded two more times in the 1990's. I don't think about the Mariners or Blue Jays all that often today. However, when I do think of them, I think of how their existence mystified me all those years ago. 

I think about how baseball cards helped me to understand the world a bit more clearly.

1974 Topps Baseball

I began collecting baseball cards somewhere around late 1976 or early 1977. I can remember going to High Street Pharmacy in Aurora, Illinois, where they had countless packs of cards in a bin near the checkout counter, each for a mighty 25 cents.

My best friend Jeff lived across the street and he too was a card collector. I have vivid memories of us spreading our cards out in the garage or bedroom, flipping through the team stacks, making trades, and marveling at the wonders of seeing our baseball heroes on cardboard.

One summer day a year or two into collecting Jeff and I had our cards spread out in his garage. A boy a couple of years older than us named Guy was riding his bike in the cul-de-sac and when he saw us, he rode up to the garage.

Guy took in what we were doing, looked over some of our cards, and then said, 'I want you two to come with me. I want to show you something.' So we headed just down the block to his house.

He went into the house while we waited in his garage. He came out with a couple of shoe boxes, opened one, and pulled this out:

When I saw it, my jaw dropped.

The action shot of Green turning the double play was nothing short of spectacular, and it was a sideways card! Absolutely brilliant!

Shortly thereafter, Guy pulled this card out of the box:

The city displayed at the top. The team nickname at the bottom. Marichal's photo snapped at the very peak of his leg kick.

It was love at first sight.

Guy explained that the cards were from the 1974 Topps Set. We flipped through his boxes and he did trade me a handful of his doubles, but neither Dick Green or Juan Marichal was among them.

In the 1970's there was of course no ebay, no internet, and if there were card shops in town, I was unaware of them. The stores like High Street Pharmacy only sold the current year's edition. Thus, I had no other way to see or buy cards from the past as a child. Guy was my sole link to the 1974 set back then.

I stopped collecting cards in 1982 and my interest waned through the teen years and beyond. In my 30's I found myself thinking more and more about my incredible childhood and with that, my interest in cards was rekindled. It's now possible to buy complete sets at card shops and of course on ebay and I've done some purchasing on the latter over the past ten years or so.

Today I have the complete Topps sets from 1976-1981, each of the years I was into card collecting. However, I have one more gap to fill in my collection and that gap is 1974. I've taken a look at auctions for it over the years, but the prices have always been too rich for my blood. 'One day' I've told myself over and over. One day I will own the 1974 set too.

I recently won some money thanks to some NFL games falling my way. Ever since, I've had that 'found money' feeling and have decided that this is a prime opportunity to purchase that much longed for set after all of these years. I've been watching various '74 auctions on ebay and a few days ago, thought I had one in the bag. Alas, someone jumped in and snagged it from me with a mere two seconds left in the auction. My disappointment lingers but I have certainly not given up hope.

There will be others.

And one of them shall be mine.

 Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Little League Courage

            Patrick nervously grabbed a bat and walked to the on deck circle, where he rubbed his left shoulder. The soreness lingered, even though it had now been 48 hours since the fastball created the black and blue mark he had been staring at in the bathroom mirror just an hour ago.

            He wondered if his fear was noticeable to his teammates as he replayed the moment of terror he felt in the split second he realized he wouldn't be able to get out of the way of the pitch. He cringed when he recanted the pain he felt, which sent him sprawling to the dirt and yelping in agony.

            Now here he was again, about to enter the batter's box for the first time since that fateful at bat. His teammate had just popped out to second. He took a deep breath and bit his lower lip as he took the first tentative steps toward home plate.

            Patrick instinctively raised his right hand toward the umpire for time as he dug his cleats into the far back side of the batter's box. He could feel drips of sweat running down the sides of his face as he glanced up toward the pitcher, who stood patiently waiting for Patrick's ritual to cease.

            His chest felt tight as he raised his bat and took his stance. The crowd's encouragements were audible, but to Patrick it was almost as if they were a faraway echo. The voice inside his head overrode the sounds of his teammate's chanting, with it saying, 'Don't bail out. Be tough. Stay in the box!'

            Then the pitcher began his windup.

            Patrick recognized immediately that the first pitch was headed toward the strike zone. He made a conscious effort of keeping his back foot from bailing out as he strode toward the ball with his front leg and began his swing. The BRONCOS lettering across the front of his jersey became visible to the center fielder as he completed his stride and executed a level swing. The sharp ping of the aluminum bat told everyone within earshot that solid contact had been made.

            The ball headed on a line toward the shortstop, who took two steps to his left, scooped it up from the dirt, and fired across the diamond to first. Halfway down the first base line Patrick recognized he'd be out, but the tightness in his chest disappeared as he completed the 60 foot dash to the bag. He tapped first base lightly with his cleats and turned to return to the dugout, tipping his head low to hide the smile that covered his face.

            Patrick was out, but he was proud. He had overcome his fear of the ball. Playing the game he loved was fun again.

Christmas Eve 2013

          It's Christmas Eve 2013. I just finished watching, 'It's a Wonderful Life' for the umpteenth time and in typical Kev fashion, have arrived at my all too familiar blubbering idiot status that always surfaces at the end of an emotional movie.

          The film's brilliance cannot be understated. The central themes of the interconnectedness of people and the richness of having family and friends reverberate throughout the picture. The latter theme is the one I'm focused on this evening.

          For the past 11 years, my boys have spent Christmas Eve with their mother and her side of the family. This has always been an acceptable arrangement for me. As much as I want them here with me every single second during the holiday season, I fully recognize both the importance and fairness of them spending time with their mother and relatives on her side of the family. It has always been more about them and their well being moreso than my own since the divorce in 2003 and the Christmas Eve arrangements fit in with that line of thinking.

          I have no problem keeping myself busy while they're visiting and am nowhere near emotional distress during the time they're gone. Yet, I find myself looking at the clock every so often, calculating a countdown of sorts until they arrive back home around 9:00/10:00 in the evening.

          In the movie, George Bailey comes home after searching high and low for the missing $8,000. His distress is immediately evident in the scene, as he snaps at his children and wife and grumbles about his rotten day. At one point though his son is putting tinsel on his head when he suddenly pulls his boy close and hugs him tightly. One can surmise from this action that George is terrified over the thought he may go to prison and in turn, lose the family life so many of us cherish.

          What are we without our family? Who I am is so deeply defined by my role as a father that it's hard to remember the time before I was a parent. It's been the single greatest journey of my life, hands down. I don't want to even approach the thought of losing the family life I cherish. George had a moment in the film where he had to face it, and we saw his understandable reaction.

          'It's a Wonderful Life' is of course fiction, but there is undeniable truth within. Watching the movie wasn't a reminder of how rich my own life is, as I am well aware of that each and every day. Rather, it brought those feelings even more to the surface this evening.

          My boys will be home in a few hours. I may hug them a little more tightly than I may have had I not watched that film today. I may listen to their words even more intensely than I may have had I not watched that film today. I may appreciate this year's Christmas with them a little more than I may have had I not watched that film today.

          George Bailey is the richest man in Bedford Falls.

          I have him matched here in Janesville, Wisconsin on Christmas Eve, 2013.