Luis Sanchez, 1986 Topps
*Special Friday edition
Luis Sanchez was brought up under the ideology, “Trust no one.” In fact, Sanchez did not even trust the very person who introduced him to this important life lesson – his father – but that may have been due to his father’s ill-conceived wording when doling out advice: “Trust no one. Trust me.” And Luis Sanchez did not trust his own mother either. One day, a young Sanchez arrived home from school to find his mother rummaging through his clothes drawer. It was later discovered that Mrs. Sanchez was simply putting away the clothes she had washed and ironed for her son, but that was no matter to Luis. He never spoke to his mother again, and he immediately initiated his custom of writing his name on every piece of clothing that he owned. “Trust no one,” Luis would mutter to himself as he spent sleepless nights, sharpie in hand, writing his first and last name on opposite butt cheeks of some newly acquired cargo shorts. So when Luis Sanchez made it to the major leagues in the early ‘80s, news of his possessive and untrusting nature with regards to his attire traveled quickly through the clubhouse. Although Luis was the only Sanchez on the Angels’ roster, he requested that his full name be stitched onto the back of his uniform – “Luis Mercedes Sanchez” - causing his name to form a full circle around his uniform number, which actually wasn’t a number at all, but instead the initials LS. “Numbers can be manipulated,” Sanchez would argue. When the Angels handed out their brand spankin’ new warmup jackets in ’85, Sanchez immediately pulled out his trusty (you can trust writing utensils, not people) white marker, and got down to business. It wasn’t two seconds after Luis Sanchez was done staking his claim to the new jacket that a local photographer requested to take a picture of Sanchez for the upcoming Topps baseball card set. A skeptical Sanchez tentatively agreed, but warned the photographer that he would never be able to steal his new jacket. “You can stare at it all you want, buddy, but it’s got my name it,” Sanchez would say. “I mean, what are you gonna do with it? You’re not Luis Sanchez! I’M Luis Sanchez! Do you really want to be walking around town, having people thinking that you’re Luis Sanchez when you’re really not? That doesn’t make any sense. Hey, you’re name’s not Luis Sanchez, is it? Seriously, what’s your name?” Turns out, the photographer was actually Luis Sanchez Sr., the father with whom young Luis hadn’t spoken to in over a decade. Confident that his only son had absorbed the lessons he had taught him all those years ago, the elder Sanchez walked away slowly, and proudly. “Trust no one,” the young Sanchez said under his breath as he watched his father walk away for the last time, wiping away a tear. “Trust no one.”
Did you know?
Luis Sanchez had a nervous breakdown in 2002 when, after his house was robbed, a personally autographed Luis Sanchez clothing line arrived on Ebay.
