Card collectors want the mystery solved
Published Tuesday May 27th, 2008
Baseball card fans from 2 to 102 want the mystery solved.
No, I'm not talking about the lack of 2008 MLB packs at convenience stores in New Brunswick.
I'm not even talking about the disappearance of gum sticks, and wax packs, since the early 1990s from the collectible lineup.
No, it's much more deeper than that.
Who in the name of George Brett (circa 1980) was the air brusher who was employed full-time for TOPPS in the 1970s who could, on a moment's notice, turn the card of a traded player into something which was a far cry from his new team's colours?
Was this person a reject from a television art college? Was he a paint-by-numbers kit tester? Was he vegetable or mineral? Was he even human?
Some 30 years since this person's, or persons', handiwork was seen on vintage 1972, 1973, and 1975 TOPPS and O-Pee-Chee baseball cards, we still curse the beyond awful creations which were brought to life by this Dali-not.
You see kiddies, back in the day - before digital cameras, fax machines, and the Internet - card companies were forced, literally at a moment's notice, to turn a picture of a baseball player from, let's say, a Cub to a Brewer, in order to meet a self-imposed company deadline for a new season's production run - which was usually in January or February.
This was done when a MLBer was either traded, or released, to a new club before an updated photo could be acquired.
In the process, the batsman's new team's logo would either be completely removed from the scene, or his jersey/hat would be changed to reflect the colours of his new squad.
If memory serves, nearly 15 per cent of the complete run of the 1973 and 1975 TOPPS/OPC set fell under this changement.
Many times, an Oriole would be seen on a card with his old Tiger uniform, or an Indian would become an Angel with Cleveland's old stadium in background.
Often times, a Twin would also be shown pitching in Wrigley Field.
Of course, Wrigley Field is in Chicago - but I digress.
The only thing that bothers me about this situation is, back then, even 10-year-old kids in the schoolyard of the now-closed Nash Creek School - namely myself - knew these cards were not real, but all-too-surreal.
How else can you explain a Padre having a near-yellow jersey, and Billy Williams in an A's jersey?
You can't make this stuff up people!
By the way, I have a challenge I want to pass on.
If the person who was THE air brusher is a reader of the Bugle-Observer - and the chance of that is quite high - I make an open call to you or your fellow cohorts to come forward to be interviewed by this reporter to explain to all our good readers why you did what you did.
Was it cash? Was it to keep your job with the company? Was it for reasons which go beyond common decency?
All I know is that I would like to meet you and solve the mystery which has fascinated the five or six people from the Woodstock region who still collect mid-1970s baseball cards in 2008 to complete their sets.
Come clean. Step forward and admit your mistake, and all will be forgiven.
All you have to gain is your dignity, and my undying appreciation of your skill with a colour paint pen.
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