Trading carrots for chocolate pudding since 2012.
Last week’s battle turned into a barnburner as the 1997 Bowman Ricky Ledee card squeaked past the 1983 Topps Mike Armstrong card by a margin of just two votes. Let’s see what’s on tap for this week, shall we?
Hey Josh Beckett – this is your future, asshole. This card epitomizes everything bad about baseball in the 1970s – from the fugly uniforms to the enormous glasses to the dumpy-butt player who looks like he should be a manager at Applebee’s. After analyzing this card for a good 20 minutes, there are a few things about Reuschel’s appearance that stand out to me. First, I couldn’t help but stare at that canary-yellow undershirt peeking out from Pauly’s uniform. Just a quick fashion tip for you, Paul – yellow doesn’t really mesh with red and navy blue. The second thing I notice is Reuschel’s dime-store baseball glove. Dude, you’re a Major League pitcher… I think you can get a nicer glove than that piece-of-shit Rawlings you’re lugging around, even if it was your Little League mitt. Finally, let’s talk about the Reuschel stache. My mind may be playing tricks on me, but his upper-lip buddy appears to be hilariously misshapen. I’m talking one side is a good inch longer than the other side. Might want to work on that, Reuschel.
Key Stats: Does, in fact, manage an Applebee’s during the offseason; uses off-balance mustache to deceive hitters; probably Josh Beckett’s biological father; nicknamed The Ice Cream Man; doesn’t smile in photographs
Poor, poor Todd. He always was the gullible one in the group. So when his bullying teammates said they had made arrangements for Todd to visit the set and even play a role in a low-budget porno film, Todd barely burst with excitement. He always thought of himself as well-endowed and figured if the baseball thing didn’t work out, porn was his backup plan. The night before the big day, Todd had his hair cut and spent three painstaking hours in front of the bathroom mirror in order to produce the finest porn stache imagineable. He spent another 45 minutes manscaping Tobias the Cheeky Monkey (Todd’s pet name for his privates). Finally, just before he crawled into bed, Todd laid out his nicest shirt and located his two best gold chains – he was ready. The next morning, when poor Todd arrived at the address his teammates had given, he didn’t see any directors or fluffers. No naked females. Hell, not even a naked man. Instead, he just found a chubby phographer from Bowman. Worst. Day. Ever.
Key Stats: Talented mustache artist; proud owner of 34 gold chains; doesn’t smile in photographs; hails from TheWayIsHere’s original hometown; pitched for eight , yes, eight different teams; does not like gay people
Alright ladies and gents, it’s that time again. Who ya got?