tiltjlp
PN co-founder
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2003
- Messages
- 3,403
- Reaction score
- 145
- Points
- 65
- Favorite Pinball Machine
- Flying Trapeze 1934
Have you noticed all the different kinds of trading cards sold today? There are cards for every sport known to man, including big time wrestling, which is now called sports entertainment, so no one will fuss about it being phoney. There are magical game packets, teenage hunks cards for pre-teen girls to collect, even card sets based on popular action hero movies. Some of the packs sell for more than I used to get as a weekly allowance. And they don't even come with bubble gum.
Back in my prehistoric growing up days in the early and mid-50's, a pack of twelve cards and a full-sized sheet of gum cost seven cents. Eventually, the price went up to a dime, the gum shrunk to half a sheet, but they added three more cards in each pack. I recall that there were only baseball cards, and only one company made them. I think that first company was Fleer, although maybe it was Topps.
I do remember that they issued a new design every year. In the mid-50's, they made a card where the edge of the card looked like a television set. Inside the set was a full-color action picture of a player, swinging a bat, sliding into second base, or maybe a left-handed reliever in the mists of his windup. That design was a favorite of mine and all the guys in Fairmount, as we tried to collect the entire set of Cincinnati Redlegs.
While we often traded doubles we had with each other, it was more fun flipping against one another. If you had a lucky streak, or mastered just the right wrist action, you might end up owning all the cards in your neighborhood. While my older brother taught me his special technique, all it took was a breezy afternoon to lose most every card you had.
We all kept our card collections in empty shoe boxes, stashed in a closet, or shoved under your bed. After that first traumatic time I lost nearly every single card in every single shoe box, I refused to risk any of my Redleg's cards, even my doubles.
Sometimes we'd end up with three or four of the same player, and then we'd attach them with clothespins to the spokes of our bike tires. With a healthy dose of imagination, and enough speed, you almost sounded like you were riding a motor bike. Every once in a while, a player would pose with his glove on the wrong hand, or swinging from the wrong side of the plate, as a joke.
I always checked each card of a new pack with eagle eyes, hoping to be the first fellow to spot a fake pose. While we all claimed to have spotted it too, being first to spot a fake was usually good for a day of bragging rights. Maybe a week, if the player was a beloved Redleg.
One year, Kahn's, a local meat packer, put Redleg player cards in their hot dog packages. While smelling good enough to eat, those cards were wildly popular, selling a lot of extra hotdogs all the summer long.
Unlike most guys, I couldn't blame my mother for tossing away my baseball cards. Instead, for some unknown reason, I gave them to a little boy down the street the same day that we moved away from Fairmount. I don't remember if I gave them away because I was so mad about moving, or if I was just being a nice guy. When I see how much some of those old cards are selling for, I sure wish I had hung onto them.
Back in my prehistoric growing up days in the early and mid-50's, a pack of twelve cards and a full-sized sheet of gum cost seven cents. Eventually, the price went up to a dime, the gum shrunk to half a sheet, but they added three more cards in each pack. I recall that there were only baseball cards, and only one company made them. I think that first company was Fleer, although maybe it was Topps.
I do remember that they issued a new design every year. In the mid-50's, they made a card where the edge of the card looked like a television set. Inside the set was a full-color action picture of a player, swinging a bat, sliding into second base, or maybe a left-handed reliever in the mists of his windup. That design was a favorite of mine and all the guys in Fairmount, as we tried to collect the entire set of Cincinnati Redlegs.
While we often traded doubles we had with each other, it was more fun flipping against one another. If you had a lucky streak, or mastered just the right wrist action, you might end up owning all the cards in your neighborhood. While my older brother taught me his special technique, all it took was a breezy afternoon to lose most every card you had.
We all kept our card collections in empty shoe boxes, stashed in a closet, or shoved under your bed. After that first traumatic time I lost nearly every single card in every single shoe box, I refused to risk any of my Redleg's cards, even my doubles.
Sometimes we'd end up with three or four of the same player, and then we'd attach them with clothespins to the spokes of our bike tires. With a healthy dose of imagination, and enough speed, you almost sounded like you were riding a motor bike. Every once in a while, a player would pose with his glove on the wrong hand, or swinging from the wrong side of the plate, as a joke.
I always checked each card of a new pack with eagle eyes, hoping to be the first fellow to spot a fake pose. While we all claimed to have spotted it too, being first to spot a fake was usually good for a day of bragging rights. Maybe a week, if the player was a beloved Redleg.
One year, Kahn's, a local meat packer, put Redleg player cards in their hot dog packages. While smelling good enough to eat, those cards were wildly popular, selling a lot of extra hotdogs all the summer long.
Unlike most guys, I couldn't blame my mother for tossing away my baseball cards. Instead, for some unknown reason, I gave them to a little boy down the street the same day that we moved away from Fairmount. I don't remember if I gave them away because I was so mad about moving, or if I was just being a nice guy. When I see how much some of those old cards are selling for, I sure wish I had hung onto them.
