....45 years and counting

I've been collecting baseball cards for about 45 years.  In 1966 I bought my first pack of Topps baseball cards and I've been addicted ever since.  At first, it was just baseball...but then there was football, Batman, James Bond, The Monkees, The Addams Family, The Munsters, Combat, well....you get the idea.  Every time I could find five cents, I would be on my bike, headed to find another pack of magic.  But my fondest memories were of collecting baseball cards.  Growing up in North New Jersey in the 1960's there was a very clear divide; either you were a Mets fan or you were a Yankees fan.  Old vs. New - tradition vs. upstarts - the Bronx vs. Queens.  I was, and remain, a Yankee fan.  It was more difficult to be a Mets fan in those days for obvious reasons.  But being a Yankee fan was no walk in the park - the CBS owned franchise had fallen on hard times and while I tried very hard, Ruben Amaro, Horace Clark, Charlie Smith, and Andy Kosco were not exactly the most exciting players to pull out of a pack of baseball cards.  Conversely, I envied the excitement of Met fans as they would open a pack and get a Don Cardwell, Jerry Grote, Ken Boswell, or Bud Harrelson card....who would have guessed that the Mets would win a World Championship (1969) before the Yankees.  To a North Jersey 8 year old Yankee fan, well it just didn't compute. 

As the hot, sticky summer days washed over us we would await the next Topps series to be released.  We would trade, brag, boast and argue over our cards and the players they pictured.  Yes, we flipped them and used our doubles and tripples as "engines" in our bicycle spokes. Those days were magical and while the specifics elude me now, the feeling always stayed with me.  I wonder if my long, lost friends remember it the same way. 

Eventually many of the cards I collected found their way into the garbage...or were burned in the charcoal grill after an evening cookout ... you know, just for fun.  But I kept the baseball cards.  I never got rid of them.  They survived childhood, my rebellious high school years, fuzzy college years, one failed marriage, two children of my own, and several bouts with damp basements.  But I have them still - and they are in good shape.  Not great - not mint - not graded....but they are good enough for me; good enough to dream.