Poor Man's Live Blog

March 11, 2008 | Comments (0) | by Brant Brown

Today, I'm going to give the masses a running commentary of a special event. Is it a game? No. Is it an award ceremony? No. What I am going to provide are my gut reactions while opening a freshly purchased pack of 2008 Topps baseball cards, recently purchased from my local Target store.

Just like masturbation, opening a pack of baseball cards when you're 30 years old sounds like a good idea. You get really excited as you open the wrapper and begin flipping through the beautiful pictures, but before you know it, you're left sitting there feeling shameful, alone, and unfulfilled with your wet penis in your hand.

Manny Ramirez adorns the cover of the newly minted Topps pack. It is worth noting that the pack, consisting of 10 cards, cost me $1.99. They also had 2008 Upper Deck cards, but those were $2.99 per pack. When it comes down to it, I'm not spending the extra dollar on TMS. It's not worth it. But in all seriousness, I used to buy these for 45 cents, and they had a hell of a lot more than 10 cards in them. We really should be getting back to our innocence in this post-9/11 society, shouldn't we? If anyone cared about baseball cards anymore, they would probably do something about inflated prices. Alas, I suspect there are few anymore who care.

On to the show...

I caress the package like my kindergarten teacher's cold, hard nipples. With a quick tug, the wrapper comes open, immediately downgrading the cards from mint condition.

Card number one: The first chew-filled cheek I see belongs to a one Justin Morneau. Is his name French? Will he get along with Delmon Young? Is his best friend Joe Mauer? I would hope so. White guys have to stick together.

Card number two: Chris Sampson. I vaguely recall the name. He's an Astro, therefore his nationality is...pasty. No one cares about this guy, even his parents. Playing in Houston this year will garner him no notoriety, only shame and the vague whispers of promiscuous activities with Lance Berkman in the locker room.

Card three: Jason Michaels. I believe two years ago, when he first went to Cleveland, I declared him a sleeper in my 20 team fantasy league. I drafted him accordingly, and went on to rue his platoon-only existence. The back of his card says, "Jason doesn't play everyday, but his consistency is rare". Huh? So he's rarely consistent? What's the charm in that? How could he be consistent if he doesn't play every day? Hell of a thing to have declared on the back of your baseball card. Mom and pop Michaels are very proud, regardless of what the editor at Topps thinks.

Card four: Scott Kazmir. "Ouch, my elbow". Only a matter of time before this kid goes Tony Saunders on us. When healthy though, Kazmir makes the Mets look like the dipshit franchise that they are. Victor Zambrano anyone?

Card five: Kei Igawa. You ever play that video game "1942", with the airplanes? Lately when I play that game (and yes, I do) I like to think that I'm shooting down Kei's relatives. That's what he gets for fleecing the Yankees last year, and I don't even like the Yankees. Pearl Harbor II indeed.

Card six: Oops, first outdated card of the year. It's the aforementioned Delmon Young, playing for the (formerly Devil) Rays on the card. Waaaaa-waaaaa.

Card seven: Um, things just got weird. Card number seven? Take a guess who it is. Nope, it's John McCain. I jest not. This one deserves a picture. I'm speechless...

Card eight: This card is a Topps advertisement. It tells you to go to www.topps.com/rookievote to select the Topps 50th anniversary all-time rookie team. Lame. Moving on...

Card nine: Tim Redding. For the Nationals? Really? I had no idea he was still in the game. In fact, on closer inspection, it looks like he pitched in nine games for the Padres in 2005, followed that year by one solitary inning with the Yankees. Then he sat out 2006 for reasons I don't care to know, and came back with the Nats in '07. Well, at least he's keeping busy.

Card ten: Fuck. Jason Fucking Marquis. What an ass-hat. Because I hate him, and for that matter all Cub fans hate him, I will simply re-print the note on the back of his card. Read and feel free to make fun of this douche. "When Jason was a kid, he was feted to a baseball-themed bar mitzvah. His parents gave him a 20' x 15' replica of the scoreboard from the Little League World Series game in which he threw a no-hitter". Goddamn Jew. I wonder if he'll pitch on Yom Kippur?

Card eleven of the ten card pack: I guess they don't count their advertisement as a card. But apparently John McCain can take the place of a ballplayer. Isn't he from Vietnam anyway? That's not even America. Anyway, we end things with Gil Meche. Hooray. Gil Meche provokes a collective "Eh" from the crowd.

It's over. It was as underwhelming as I figured it would be. I'm ashamed, alone, unfulfilled, and my penis is now soft. However, there is hope. I might buy another pack just to score the elusive Mike Gravel. Or perhaps I can keep buying them to support the Ron Paul revolution.