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My gods are mass-produced, disinterested, mostly ignored. Note the left-hand fringe of this 1976 Garry Maddox card: it is a cutoff border of another card, possibly for a member of the Texas Rangers. I was generally able to embrace the illusion that each card I got in a pack had come into existence in some sort of singular burst of creation, something meant to end with the deliverance of the card to my hands, but cards like this suggested huge sheets of cards spitting out of machines to be sliced into many rectangles by other machines. I didn't like the idea of huge sheets of cards. It seemed to suggest I didn't matter. But gods will not give you what you like.
And note the look on Garry Maddox's face. Does he seem to care that he is to serve as one of the figures in my ever-expanding pantheon of gods? No, he clearly has his mind on other things. Gods will not be thinking of you.
And note the empty seats. There are just a few figures in the stands behind Garry Maddox, but even they seem more likely to have their minds on anything but the random moment unfolding in the foreground. This is a realm where nobody cares. A mass-produced image of a disinterested man taking a phantom swing in his warmup jacket in front of empty seats and apathetic soltaries. The back of his card should include the koan about a tree falling in the forest with no one around to hear, but instead it shows years stretching backward (years always stretching backward with my gods) to his time with the Giants, when he was on the same team with the confusingly similar Gary Matthews, as if the Giants in the days before I was really paying attention were a primordial ooze where one god merged into the next. Note that as the years went on I learned the difference between Garry Maddox and Gary Mathews, so much so that I forgot I'd ever confused them, and in doing so lost some of the connection to the mystery of the gods.
But also note, above all, Garry Maddox's muttonchops. Thanks and praises for Garry Maddox's muttonchops. If a man swings in a ballpark and nobody cares, does it matter? That's the koan for the day. My answer: muttonchops.
Love the miscuts. My first real year for cards was 1973 when I was thrilled to realize I'd gotten maybe 10% of Willie Mays.
http://cardboardgods.baseballtoaster.com/archives/609790.html
http://www.flapa.com/baseball/cards/MTrillo76Topps_206.jpg
"The Minister of Defense" (an apt nickname for a Cardboard God) has been a prominent member of the Philadelphia community since his retirement. He is CEO of an office furniture company and is involved with youth charities. He also still serves as an outfield instructor for the Phillies in spring training (although you wouldn't have known if you saw Wednesday's game against the Braves). Maddox, despite making an error in the 1978 NCLS against the Dodgers which cost the Phillies the series, has always been well respected and a fan favorite here in Philadelphia.
Gary Matthews, aka "Sarge", is a commentator on Phillies TV broadcasts. Let's just say Sarge is a work in progress.
Funny that Gary Mathews ended up in Garry Maddox's town. They were always meant to be in proximity to one another, I guess. Sarge never played for the Phillies, did he?
5 : That gum offered pain, followed by about a tenth of a second of enjoyment, followed by lingering disappointment. Still, some of the joy went out of life when they started selling packs without them. You know, when baseball cards became "investments." On that note, here's an item in today's news:
http://sports.yahoo.com/mlb/news?slug=ap-wagnercard&prov=ap&type=lgns
A year or two ago I bought a pack of "classic" cards. They were wrapped in waxy paper, and designed much like old style cards. They even had cheesy, overexposed pictures (though the deliberate ovreexposure was a bit off; it missed the brilliant, otherworldly glare common to the old cards).
That pack came complete with a powdery pink wafer - except that it was wrapped in plastic (so as not to sully the investment, I suppose), and it was soft and chewy. They missed the point entirely.
http://www.philadelphiafed.org/media/newsreleases/010807b.html
To describe Luzinski as lumbering is quite kind (although he was my favorite player when I was growing up). Unlike Maddox and his error in 1978 many Phillies fans have not quite forgiven Luzinski (or manager Danny Ozark for that matter) for the dropped fly ball in the 1977 NLCS game 3 against the Dodgers off the bat of Manny Mota.
Like Sarge, Bull has also returned to Philadelphia with "Bull's BBQ" at Citizen's Bank Park.
Oh by the way Maddox lost the afro and muttonchops.
Anyway, Garry Maddox was a joy to watch in the outfield. Eight straight gold gloves. He had a super-wide batting stance and a reputation as a first-ball hitter, which I see comes through in the stats: never more than 42 walks in a season, and usually less than 20. He gave off an air of dignity and calm, quiet grace. Sort of like the rest of the team, actually, which is one theory as to why they only won one series - just not enough fire, until Rose came along. But give me the Secretary of Defense ove Charlie Two-Bit Hustler every time.
The gum smell was a layer of magic coated on every card. When they stopped making baseball cards that smelled like gum, the cards lost all their magic. They became printed cardboard rectangles instead of Cardboard Gods.
The gum itself was about texture, mostly unpleasant; it had no taste. But the smell on the cards was indelible.
http://www.flint.lib.mi.us/hallfame/99/washington99.shtml
And yes, muttonchops are admirable. Quite admirable. You must have more muttonchop cards somewhere, Josh.
Nobody outmuttonchopped this guy:
http://cardboardgods.baseballtoaster.com/archives/706693.html
Perhaps I'm thinking about this too much.
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