Trade with Brad's Blog

I have a confession. Several months ago, before life got crazy again, I had a couple of trades in the works. I believe I fulfilled my ends of all of them but I have a nagging feeling that somehow one got past me.

If anyone reading this is quietly fuming over the ne'er-do-well Potch leaving cards on the table (figuratively) then please, by all means, leave a nasty comment here. I do not want to be that guy!

Trading is the best part of my return to this hobby. I've been working on wrapping up some sets and trading has helped very much. I haven't even written much about my refined collection goals focusing on Reds, Cubs and select Tigers vintage - so thus far my progress with those goals has come via card shows exclusively.

There are other goals, of course, and then there are goals I didn't even know I had. I recently completed a trade with Brad of the fine blog, Brad's Blog. I gathered up a couple of relics in his wheelhouse, and a couple of autos I won some 18 months ago in a Wicked Ortega contest and sent them his way - along with assorted other cards and a grouping of Frank Thomas cards that he didn't have for his super Big Hurt collection.

In return, I received these two awesome autos:

I have no idea how this happened.

I neither had an Aroldis Chapman card auto nor a George Foster card auto, even though I by chance ran into Mr. Foster a year or so ago.

I also got this card that I didn't know existed. I'm not sure what that swatch is from. Hopefully not boxer shorts.

Bobby Knight's legend has dimmed considerably in Indiana and the circles in which I run, but he's still Bobby Knight and I'm an Indiana University graduate. I ran into Knight once while visiting Assembly Hall on a random day back in the early '90s.

Brad threw in some nice recent Reds I needed, including this lovely Gypsy Queen frame of the legendary catcher and popinjay Johnny Bench.

Incidentally, anyone out there who has a GQ frame of anyone, any year, should feel free to let me know.

And, of course, that goes for autographs of Reds. I will labor to make a nice trade with you.

Thanks again for the trade, Brad.

Tradeable Vagueness

Excuse the title. I'm working on perfecting the awkward headline.

I've been getting my trade groove on this week and enjoying getting back in the swing.

So, this is a blatant fishing expedition to see if anyone has a want list for 2012 Heritage (including a couple of SPs), 2013 Heritage (including an SP or three) and 2013 Archives. I have quite a bit - especially of the first and the last - for trade.

I'm desperately prowling for Heritage 2011 SPs.

I really need to hold my SPs back for SPs, as I'm sure you can understand why.

If you have needs from the sets mentioned above, please direct me to your want lists. I'm basically seeking Reds, Tigers and Cubs from those three sets but I still need to work up my own want lists.

This is all so very scattershot, so my apologies. Just hoping to get a trade dialogue started.

Meanwhile, because I dislike posting sans art, here's an auto I pulled from 2011 Heritage. RED SOX LEGEND Ted Wil....er, Ted Wills.

I'm looking to trade this for a Heritage 2011 auto from a team I collect.

Hey, Look! A Real-Life Cardboard Hero!

Well, I'm back to talk about my weekend and the details of the race I hoped to run followed by the more blog-related fodder of a chance encounter with a real life baseball hero of mine - back when baseball players were heroes to me.

I know you've been hitting refresh on your browser for the past 24 hours.

Let's recap Part 1.

Allow me, you rambled on and on and on - in a highly annoying voice, I'm sure - about your poor little heel and a bunch of loonies planning to run a bunch of miles without being chased. You pretended you had something about the hobby to reveal and then you went to bed without sharing. I'm guessing at least 27 followers and counting have dropped you in the past five hours.

OK, pardon the extended lead up to the blog relevant fodder but, well, there are some other things I wanted to get down on record. So, I'll continue just a bit more, if you'll indulge me.

Despite the pain in my heel, we decided to go ahead with our weekend plans. We had reservations at a nice hotel at the starting line and we planned some things with our daughter for Sunday. It was intended all along to be a little getaway.

But my wife knows me and knew I'd be moping around if I couldn't run the race or had to drop out with the heel issue.

She bought some heel padding for me and I decided to try running with it. It felt good but I was still convince the constant pounding of a half marathon would do me in.

Restless, I woke up at 4 a.m. and waited. From our hotel room, we had a straight show view of the seven to 10 city blocks where runners would be lining up. For the next 2.5 hours I peaked out every so often. The numbers went from zero to many, many thousands over that time.

My wife wished me the best and I headed downstairs to make my way to my designated corral. Me and 35,000 jammed together and I said a few words for my heel.

Do you see me? I'm right there

I told my wife there was a 90% chance I'd be back very soon. I figured I'd have severe pain 1/2 mile in and call it quits so as not to risk a bigger problem. It would be OK. Our hotel was immediately to the right in this picture, just a few feet from the shot here, so perhaps I wouldn't have far to hobble.

But, amazingly, a few steps into the run, I was OK. I still felt good at 1/2 mile and soon - slowly per my usual - began ticking off the miles. Just a dull pain but I was soon more concerned with the 90% humidity and blazing sun. The pain in my heel actually seemed to go away as the race went on. I didn't get cocky about it as I figured the next step easily could be my last.

When I hit the Indianapolis Motor Speedway at mile 6.5, I began to - if you will - tire. Runners get to lap the full track during this race. It was cool the first year. The heat from the sun on the track was brutal this year, and sapping my energy. Runners everywhere were already taking extended walking breaks.

I began seeing regular emergency vehicles and passed a half dozen (former) runners on stretchers or being attended to by medical personnel. I kept going. Conscious of the fact that I was doing this to stay healthy and not to end up on a stretcher, I slowed my pace and took water and/or gatorade at every station.

As I exited the 2.5 mile oval and hit the streets again, I realized my wife very well may have saved the day with the padding she purchased. But I tried not to think about that lest I jinx myself. I still had nearly five miles to go and so I focused on my own thoughts and the bands playing throughout the course.

At mile 11, I slowed to grab a water and my legs felt like noodles. I pounded two cups, walked through the water station and, eventually, kept going.

And, well, long story short ...

Uh, too late pal!

I made it!

My wife and daughter were there at the finish. My wife had received automated text messages as I crossed certain checkpoints and was equally stunned and excited that I could run on the heel. We all celebrated together at the post-race party (by resting in the grass, mostly). My daughter gave me a ribbon to pin on that she had my wife get for me.

Then, we headed back to the room and treated ourselves with room service to avoid the masses. I enjoyed a delicious big post-race cheat meal of a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

Afterwards, tired and full, I was ready for a rare mid-day nap and soon fell asleep. The ladies snuck out to go shopping. When they returned, I took my daughter swimming - the highlight of her weekend.

Finally, that night, we decided to go to the Indianapolis Indians vs. Louisville Bats AAA game. Victory Field is right across the street from our hotel. It took 90 seconds to walk from the hotel doors to the front gate - and that included waiting for the light to change and walking with a four-year-old.

Baseball, you say? Do I finally sense a blog-relevant point to this two-part blog entry?

Oh, yes. Indeed.

Third inning, the ladies get up to walk the concourse. Sixty seconds later my wife phones. "You might want to get up here. Right behind our section there's a guy wearing a Cincinnati Reds shirt signing autographs at a table. He might be somebody." I bounded out of my seat. Did I ever mention I'm a lifelong Reds fan?

Who could this be? But wait! I have nothing for this person to sign. ARGH! I have no cards! We had decided on a whim to go to the game because the runners' packet had a buy-one get-one free coupon?

I hit the concourse and see about six people in line. This signing was winding down. I get a closer look to see, sitting at the table - Big Red Machine alum ...

George Foster.

George "Friggin'" Foster, easily one of my favorite players ever, I tell my wife and daughter.

I fear he is about to leave so I buy a ball at a stand next to the table stamped with the Indianapolis Indians logo and we're quickly in front of him. Two minutes had passed from the time my wife called me at the seats.

My daughter hands him the ball.

He smiles, says hello and signs. And we move on.

I've mentioned before that I'm actually not an autograph kind of guy. I feel rather goofy as a grown man asking another grown man for his signature. That's just me. I'm particularly averse to the idea of paying for this. It's such a personal and impersonal experience all at once. It's a bit awkward.

But this was a no-brainer. Here was one of my heroes as a kid. Foster - known for the menacing stare, the black bat, the long sideburns - hit 52 home runs for the Big Red Machine in 1977, when I was nine. This was a very, very big deal. Leaders of the era routinely hit, I believe, in the 30s.

I first posted a picture of me holding this ball, immediately post autograph. I removed it. You're welcome.

Foster was a slugger I once thought would go down in history as the greatest home run hitter ever. To me, he is one of the greatest.

His baseball cards are legendary, to me. Next on my list will be to create my official Foster want list.

While I would have loved to have one of these signed, I now kind of like the fact he signed an Indianapolis Indians' ball. It's so random - but also preserves the memory of the evening and the weekend. That said, if anyone has an on-card Foster autograph for trade, please let me know.

So that was my big weekend - a personal milestone reached for the second time, great family time and a chance encounter with a cardboard hero come to life.

A May Day: On The Run

With a new week off and running, I thought I'd recap my eventful weekend. I certainly didn't expect any blog fodder to come from it, but something sure came out of left field.

Read on!

But first, Saturday was scheduled to be my second Indianapolis Half Marathon. I ran my first last year, and I eventually wrote about the experience. I run for weight maintenance, for general health (with a little one at 43 - that's on my mind a lot) and because I tend to love being alone with my thoughts.

There's no better place for that than on a run.

A half marathon is 13.1 miles. There was a time that I couldn't run .1 miles without getting winded. For a healthy stretch of my life, I hated running with a deep passion.

I was the kid who always finished last running the two laps around the gym in school. 

Crossing the finish line last year was extremely gratifying. But what about this year?

Training had been going well until the Sunday prior, when I hurt my heel during my final long-ish training run. I couldn't step on it without a fair amount of pain on Monday and Tuesday and at that point figured the gig was up. I self-diagnosed via Internet and guessed stress fracture - and reluctantly went to the doc.

She wasn't sure and we agreed to hold off on an X-Ray. She thought it could be heel spurs or some such. She prescribed some high dosage pain medicine. Reluctant again, I figured I'd do it and maybe it would get me through the race.

The doc, who also was set to run the same 13.1 miles, said:

"I think you could try running and if you experience excruciating pain then you should stop."

Ya think, I thought? Sound advice when experiencing excruciating pain in general, not just while running, I thought.

I took three of the pills over the next day and developed a constant headache and severe heartburn - and stopped the pills. Wednesday night I tried to run half a block - and the pain was still there.

I had trained for this. I was ready. To get hurt six days before the big day was rough.

At this point in the story, you're asking yourself. Should I keep reading. Is there really a baseball hook? Maybe I should move to the next blog. Why am I following this guy?

All valid questions.

Stay tuned for Part 2 to be published tomorrow at this time.

Wait a second. You're leaving!? What about the race? And what blog fodder came out of left field that you opened this drivel with? What kind of mind games are you playing here? And, can I have the 87 pain pills you've elected not to take?

Patience, gentlemen (and two ladies). The big reveal shall come.

I'm de-following you. You should know this.

For now, how about enjoying these cards I picked up at a AAA game this weekend at Victory Field in Indianapolis - where we watched the Indianapolis Indians (Pirates) blank the Louisville Bats (Reds) 4-0. Coincidentally, it was at this game where the cool thing out of left field happened to me.

This guy is up with the big club this year and doing all right.

They didn't have this year's Indianapolis team set so I snagged the 2011 set. Couldn't leave a baseball game without some cards. Enjoy, and see you tomorrow.

A few more of those I have heard of...including the head coach and former Red.

Cool Cards From Mr. Habit (update)

Update: This full post, I noticed an hour after posting, was cut at the end, thus not revealing the trump card. I'm reposting.

One of my favorite regular trading partners is a fine gent with whom I really don't even work out trades - Robert of $30 a Week Habit.

We just hold cards back for one another and send them after awhile. This time, we happened to do that about the same day - in fact I believe we did it the exact same day.

I'm sorry, but this card is just stellar in every way. You cannot argue.

Robert came out on the short end of our latest exchange. I hope to make that up to him one of these times.

He sent the above Gypsy Queen bronze paper - perhaps my favorite insert set ever. I've been working harder lately to gather the bronze (and green) GQ paper frames and really should come up with a list of needs. If you have any available, please let me know.

Robert hit needs across several other areas - Reds, Tigers, Cubs - fun parallels, etc. and a SUH-WEET surprise I'll save for the end.

Here's the parade of fun.

Yes, Robert sent along the immediately above beauty from the Topps Chrome 2011 set that I'm closing in on. Awesome! What a great surprise to an already surprising package of cards.

Thanks again Robert!

Meanwhile, if anyone has Topps Chrome 2011 or needs some, check out the link and send me a note.

My Greatest Pack Pull Ever

Yesterday I was off doing my thing, running some errands in the town where I grew up - oil change, hair cut, returning library books, dropping three trade packages at the post office and stopping by Walmart to get a couple of things for a family dinner today.

I popped into the card aisle, with no plans to buy anything until Gypsy Queen comes out. I had already snagged plenty of Heritage even though I have no plans to collect it this year. (Speaking of which, if you need Heritage, please let me know and I think we can work out a deal. I have a chunk to trade.)

So, at Walmart, I decided to reward myself for some mini-good things of late and snag one of the value boxes with two packs of Heritage, a few backs of flagship and a special card of either Mays, Mantle or Griffey Jr. I pulled the Griffey, which is up for trade.

I took the value box to Subway for a bite of lunch and commenced opening packs. Three cards into my first pack out popped my best pull ever - by far. It was only the second auto I've ever pulled in a pack.

The first was this Ted Wills from last year's Heritage, a card I still have but would trade for a similar veteran Red, Tiger or Cub auto.

At Subway, sitting all alone in the restaurant, I stared at the card (featured below), not quite believing it even though I knew it was legit. I smiled and giggled - no, cackled! - and surely creeped out the nice woman waiting by the fixins for her next customer.

My first thought was "What an awesome addition to my collection!"

A few minutes later, I guessed this was probably a $50 card. Frankly, I don't know much about these things. I entertained no thoughts of selling it.

But, later, when I looked into it, I decided I couldn't keep this piece of cardboard. In a nutshell, it should fetch enough to pay for the insanely overpriced Cinderella breakfast we're taking my young daughter to next month during four days at Disney World - plus perhaps even one of our overnights. That could be a nice help.

As you can see, I pulled 01/25. A couple of others have sold on ebay for $175. 

Truth is, I'm not much of an auto collector. I don't go out of my way to seek them. I would balk at paying much of anything to stand in line for an auto - even of a favorite player. In fact, at The National last summer, I chose not to pay $79 to get Al Kaline or Johnny Bench to sign a card. Those are two of my all-time favorites.

I did obtain a slew of autos at The National (see post) as part of my gifted ticket package - and it was awfully fun to do - but in general it's not my thing.

While having a Hall of Fame auto fall into your lap is pretty great, I'm thankful this card doesn't feature Ernie Banks or Kaline or Bench or Frank Robinson. It eases the guilt factor of pursuing the dollar over the awesome card. If one of those four had signed this card, I'd be deep in a heated internal struggle right now.

Thanks again to the bloggers - Dustin at Coot Veal, Robert at $30 a Week and Kyle at Juuust a Bit Outside, who saw yesterday's post and wrote me about ebay procedures. I'm leaning toward going this route and, if I do, I have a much better idea going in thanks to all of your help.

Auto-Erotica

First off, apologies in advance to all of the weirdos who found this post via Google.

So, a few days ago, I teased my foray into the world of autograph seeking. Hunting these a'grafs (to parlay what I'm pretty sure is the street lingo) wasn't too hard as they came free with the SUPER VIP ticket to The National that I received as an early birthday present.

(Side note: Tomorrow, the 16th, is my actual birthday. Hooray for me for being born!)

While at The National, I couldn't resist meeting a couple of favorites from my childhood. I even stood in the shorter lines to snag a few other signatures. I'm considering holding on to a couple of the extras for a future contest and some may be headed to family members and blogger friends.

Bill Madlock was one of three guests at VIP night. Madlock signed several cards for me. For some reason, he used a pen I wasn't thrilled with on a couple of them, but no huge whoop.

Uh, yeah, that didn't work so well. Actually, looks much better live than scan, thankfully.

Madlock was favorite of mine in the late '70s. He was a four-time batting title champ and won a World Series ring with the Pittsburgh "We Are Family" Pirates. I recall that World Series very well and was rooting hard for Willie Stargell, Dave Parker, Madlock and Kent Tekulve. The Pirates have ranked in my top echelon of teams ever since.

Madlock loved it when he saw this card.

I wrote about the Hostess cards a few months ago and how much those cards still mean to me. This was my first opportunity to get one signed so I went for it. I considered leaving it at home but thought it might be fun to get a signature and unite my past and present a bit. The best/worst part for me is this was by far my worst cut. Lovely.

The other baseballer in the Very Important People room was Don Kessinger. As a kid, I knew his name but basically nothing about him. He seemed like a good guy as he chatted everyone up with his Arkansas twang. Here are the cards he signed.

Great signature. I particularly love how the '76 looks. No, silly me didn't grab a Cubs Kessinger in time.

Next up, Dick Fosbury - he of the Flop variety. Fosbury was the third VIP in the room. I had nothing for him to sign and pulled out a note card. I didn't scan it but he signed it: "Dick Fosbury, '68 Gold". Nice guy.

During the regular show days I met several other former semi-stars: Jack "The Ripper" Clark, The Brothers Reuschel, Leon "Bull" Durham, Buddy Bell, Lee Smith and Stan Bahnsen. Bahnsen was Rookie of the Year for the Yankees in '68. Who knew. I wasn't planning on getting his signature and didn't have a card. When a pal from the previous day's line saw me, he said I should walk over there and use my Bahnsen ticket. Basically no line at all. Bought the first Bahnsen I could find, for 20 cents, at the table next to where I was standing and headed on over.

Here are some of their signatures put to cardboard. First up are my four favorites from the show.

Bell's rookie card. I grabbed this at the show.

This looks tremendous in hand.

Signature in black pops nicely with the border.

I gave away a couple of cards to seekers in line, including a Rick Reuschel Cubs, but I hung on to this one and took advantage of the rare chance to get two big league brothers signing the same card. Why Topps put Paul's name where Rick is picture and Rick's name where Paul is pictured is anybody's guess. Alphabetical? Silly though.

Along with Madlock, I was most excited about Buddy Bell. I always followed his career and was thrilled when he landed on the Reds later in his career. Of course, in my haste the night before the show, I forgot to pull a card of him on the Reds.

Here are some more from the big show:

Nice.

The other Lee card. Also love this. Arguably nicer than the first but I'm so partial to the '83s.

Love, love the '83; wrote on his eye with the one immediately above. Ick.

Such a classic shot for me. Great signature.

Believe it or not, I have one more Bell around here that I forgot to scan.

In one word, here's my final and authoritative word on the signers based on my two seconds with them. Well, it's also based on my time spent staring at them while in line.

Jack Clark: Swarthy  (By the way, realized I didn't scan the Clark. I'll probably add it here later or in another post.)

Bill "Mad Dog" Madlock: Happy
Don Kessinger: Folksy
Paul Reuschel: Awshucks
Rick Reuschel: Meh
Buddy Bell: Sophisticated
Lee Smith: Awesome
Leon Durham: Disappointing
Stan Bahnsen: Bored

I brought along three old baseballs I had purchased a decade ago for a White Sox charity night meet and greet and I bought one more at the show. The balls were signed by Madlock, Kessinger, Smith and Bell.