Classic card of the week

Wade Boggs, 1989 Score “1988 Highlight” series

I always thought this Todd Worrell was my most “that’s what she said” card. And it still may be. But the back-of-the-card-tidbit title alone on this Wade Boggs beauty gives Worrell a run for its suggestive money.



WADE WHACKS ‘EM

Yes. That is one way of putting it. Elaborate, please.

Wade, who has been called a hitting metronome,

By whom? Who has called Wade Boggs a “hitting metronome?” If I ever heard anyone describe Wade Boggs as a hitting metronome, my first immediate thought would be, “‘Metronome?’" Not because I don’t know what the word means, or what that statement implies, but because a) why? and b) I’m not certain anybody ever said that, and so I think you, Score, are lying. Wikipedia defines a metronome as “any device that produces regular, metrical ticks (beats, clicks) — settable in beats per minute.” They add, “Boggsian. Like Wade Boggs, the baseball player, in the way it produces metrical ticks.”

did something with his bat

Because we are in TWSS territory, I am hoping that this will be about the great and consistent manner by which Wade Boggs hit baseballs with his bat, as opposed to something else that I do not care to discover.

in 1988 that no other player in the 20th Century has ever done.

“Metronome sets 20th century bat-related mark,” was the headline of the Boston Herald one day in the fall of ’88.

He banged out 200 hits

Bill, Score editor: Dick, you bang out that Boggs card yet?

Dick, Score writer: Almost, Bill. Actually, had a question for you: Would you say that Boggs whacks balls, or bangs ‘em?

Bill: Hmmm, good question. I’ve seen him do both. Why don’t you use “whacks” as a lede and “bangs” in the middle …

Dick: Good call.

for the sixth consecutive season, an unprecedented feat, and only topped by Wee Willie

That’s what she said.

Keeler’s eight in a row way back in the 1890s.

Listen, we can talk all day about 19th and 20th century metronomes, but the long and short of it is this, as the title suggests—Wade whacks ‘em. “’Em” being balls. Hard.

Did you know?
I am not proud of all this. Nevertheless.

Classic card of the week

Todd Worrell, 1990 Score

Front of the card? Eh.

Back of the card? Chock full of goodies. And elongated ‘staches!



Todd was a tremendous loss to the Cardinals in ’90,

Positive start here. First thing we learn about Todd Worrell: he’s either dead, or was not around for some reason, for the Cardinals, in the year of 1990. I am excited! You? No? Let us continue:

even though Lee Smith was a solid replacement as the team’s stopper.

The all-time Major League leader in saves (until Trevor Hoffman passed him in 2006) = solid replacement. Lee Smith led the NL in 1991 with 47 saves and finished second in the Cy Young vote. By the time Worrell had returned, he had lost his job to Smith. I wonder what a “very good replacement” would have been like.

Anyway, Todd Worrell got injured. But before that, he was really good, as the following tidbit describes in naughty detail:

A menacing figure on the mound, Todd threw a sizzling 95-mph fastball as hard as could, as long as he could. By blowing away batters, he racked up over 30 saves for three straight seasons

That whole statement deserves one, big “That’s what she said.” (And yes, I also include the “rack” part of “racked.” Nothing gets past me.) I particularly enjoy the mentioning of how Todd Worrell threw the ball as hard as he could, as if that is some defining characteristic of a power pitcher. But geez, “as long as he could?” What does that even mean? It’s only 60 feet, six inches from the mound to home plate. If Todd Worrell were simply rearing back and launching it into the stands every time, that like, wouldn’t be good. Or if they’re trying to say “as long as he could” in that, Todd Worrell would stay on the mound for as long as he needed to so that he could continue throwing the ball as hard as he could, then well…that is also not a positive attribute for a closer.

This may also serve to explain why Todd Worrell had like 17 surgeries on his elbow in a two-year span. Luckily, he was able to eventually recover and pitch well for the Dodgers. Opposing batters always maintained that it was really hard to get good wood on Todd Worrell’s sizzling balls.

Did you know?
I am 13-years old.

Classic card of the week

Scott Fletcher, 1987 Donruss Diamond Kings

Scott Fletcher, what happened to your face? It looks like an old catcher’s mitt…

When he wasn’t being recreated as a 60-year old man in watercolor form, Scott Fletcher was busy playing baseball in a mediocre fashion. Back of the card, elaborate:



Scott Fletcher has developed into one of the steadiest

I hate to jump all over this thing right out of the gate. Really, I do. But: “steadiest” = meaningless.

and most productive shortstops in the AL.

Well, okay, I guess. Considering that other shortstops in the American League in 1987 included this guy, and also this guy, then…yeah, whatever. But a “Diamond King?” Listen –- you can’t just name anyone a Diamond King. Not when, along with the prestige of the title of Diamond King comes the accompanying thrill of being the subject of such an artistic rendering, with a mini-you playing defense and all types of cool lines and graphics and stuff. This is serious. And no offense to Scott Fletcher –- well, okay…some offense -- but I know one AL shortstop with a major gripe. But please, continue:

His career high BA with the White Sox was .256 in 1985 but with the Rangers he has hit .300 in 1986 and .287 in 1987.

1) Batting average is stupid. 2) As it relates to a previous observation made regarding Scott Fletcher, that is the opposite of “steady.”

Enough of this. Let’s check Wikipedia and discover what noted statistician and baseball guru Bill James has to say regarding Mr. Fletcher:

Bill James noted that Fletcher “didn’t do anything exceptionally well” and that he mainly “filled a slot,” though he ranked him the 85th best shortstop of all time.

I enjoy how James ranking Fletcher 85th all-time is seemingly in contradiction to his own statements about him. As if being ranked 85th in anything should warrant higher praise. (Note: if somebody told me that I had the 85th best blog about old baseball cards and foster parenting on the Internet, I would immediately retire because my career would have peaked.) And hey –- nobody’s saying that Scott Fletcher was not a good baseball player. He was.

But again. A Diamond King? I think the gloriousness of this particular card would be appropriately downgraded if all it read on the back was:

He filled a slot.
- Bill James

Did you know?
Scott Fletcher never sat down for an artist's rendition of himself ever again. Until 2005, when he allowed a local carnie to draw a portrait of him with a giant head and riding a unicycle.