Sorry I didn't post yesterday. As you know I work nights. I've been getting about 4 hours of sleep per day this week and I was just too tired to post. I had to walk around at work just to stay awake. Anyway, you don't need to hear about my problems. You came to see the goods.
I showed you the vintage I found that was so cruelly stored loose in the tubs. The dinged corner, the creases, the horror. Oh the humanity of it all. Well, here's proof that just because you find vintage cards in a binder doesn't mean they are going to be in mint condition.
At the back of one of the binders I found two vintage baseball cards. Just two. They were stars. Not just stars, Hall of Famers. Someone hadn't treated them like Hall of Famers. It was sad.
Someone killed Steve Carlton. Shot him right in the face. Twice in left arm. Once in the right arm, left shoulder and right leg. And the biggie, one shot right in the family jewels. One push pin hole in a card means it was displayed because it was a beloved player. Eight push pin holes in a card means that player pissed someone off. I'm very curious if the person who hated Carlton so much was the owner of this card prior to the person who put it in the binder. I mean, if you hate him so much, why put him in the binder at all?
The final vintage card I found in the binder was not hated, but looked to have been loved to death.
How about that? Ernie Banks, circa 1964. I saw this and immediately freed it from the binder just to feel the cardboard. That is a beautiful card. I can imagine some kid pulling that card in a pack and carrying it in his pocket all day. Whoever it was loved the corners right off this thing. I don't even care because I love it too. I may just carry it in my pocket for a day or two.
Only one vintage card to go. Stay tuned.