Mike Cameron

I was pretty apathetic toward Mike Cameron during his stint with the Padres. Decent numbers, but the most inopportune, infuriating strikeouts. That said, I still have a Mike Cameron mock-jersey that I got at The PET for applying for a credit card with a fake name (not Luke Gregerson).

This Has Nothing To Do With Edgar Gonzalez; It's All About Me

Even though it was inevitable and a no-brainer baseball decision, it still sucked for me when the Pads let Edgar go. Sure, he was pretty much impossible to dislike and the novelty of having two hometown brothers on the team can make for a feel-good story (may not apply when regarding Gileses), but the thing I hated most was that I had to get a new username on Gaslamp Ball.

I started out as The Third Giles in '07 when we had Brian and Marcus. I had just gotten out of the shower and was watching the game wearing nothing but a Padres hat. My then-wife (side note: I'm finally divorced now! How cool is that?) asked "Who do you think you are, the third Giles or something?" After M'iles left, we picked up Edgar and I just became The Third Gonzalez. That lasted for two seasons and I was dreading replacing it. I thought of all different sorts of things that "TTG" could stand for but they all sucked so I went with the one that seemed to suck the least: The Thin Gwynn. Hey, it's better than Terrance Trent Garvey, I guess.

The card shown is an '09 UD Series 2. The picture's from August- I remember because I took it at the same time as the one for the David Wells post.

Fried Chicken And A Puddle

Well, I guess it's obvious now that sometimes when I say "tomorrow", what I really mean is "a few days from now". The Tony Gwynn story I have is more of a Tony Gwynn story tucked inside a John Kruk story but oh, well. Old school Gaslamp Ballers may remember it from when I posted it back in the dark days pre-SBN2.0 when FanPosts were still called Diaries. I'll repeat it here but you should go read the comments on that post because other people's stories are better than mine.

So, apparently back in the late '80s on the rare occasion of rain at The Murph, Tony and Kruk would get a bucket of chicken and take BP, competing over not who could hit the most home runs like most players would, but over who could drop the most singles into the puddle that formed behind the 5.5 hole.

The card shown in the craptabulously blurry photo is a 1990 Starline, No. 4 of 40, that I found a few days ago amongst my little brother's old cards. Yoink!

WTF HOF

Okay, I know I'm late for the party when it comes to pounding out outraged blog posts about how Roberto Alomar should be in the Hall Of Fame, but I just found this card yesterday so that's what's happening.

Actually, eff that. It's tired and I'm tired. Besides, I'm not going to sum it up any better than Jim Caple did.

Jeez, I think this has been the laziest phoned in sack of crap I've ever posted here. I'll have something of actual substance tomorrow, either my favorite Tony Gwynn story (told to me by John Kruk) or how a home run hit by Joey Cora got my mother and I on speaking terms fourteen years later. That, my friends, is how you keep your two readers captivated.

The Second Hairston

As soon as the Pads sent Kouz to Oakland to make room for The Savior and got Shrek back, I started searching for this card because I knew- knew!- that Jerry, Jr. would be our next pickup. There were rumors that we'd sign him before the trade happened and that just sealed the deal- that's just something the Padres do and will always do regardless of regime. Between Alomars and Venables, Gwynns and Gonzali, Hoffmans and womanbeaters, the whole touchy-feely family reunion routine is a Friar tradition- one almost as deeply rooted as the Friar himself and one that I hope carries on long after breakfast on the warning track is successfully laughed out of town. Pancakes at PETCO? Nah, Bro-B-I's are the only syrupy shiz I need at the ol' ballgame.

Mexico Comes To Huntington This Friday

There are so many things I could write about Fernando Valenzuela... but I'm not gonna say any of them here and now. I have another card of him as a Padre so I'll blather on about his illustrious career some other time. I'm just posting this one because it represents Mexico and I'm really stoked for our cerveza, not beer party that's going down Friday. Between a bunch of different kinds of Mexican beer, Scrabble, a pinche megaphone and the guarantee of my Brain Hero schooling me left and right, what's not to look forward to?

...and, yes, that's our gang sign (it's dos equis and a quesadilla- although I guess you could argue that it's a taco).

Ready, Aim, Wait To Get Fired.

Here's a double shoutout to the man responsible for our recent offensive explosion... or something like that. What's the over/ under on his firing? I'm putting my money on September 2010.

Until recently, my only memory of ol' Randy consisted of him being the other warm body ushered out of town with Krukkie. I was heartbroken- and it had nothing to do with Ready's departure.

"Rickey gets on"

I scanned and uploaded ths card back in January with plans of posting it the day he went in The Hall. Whoops! However, my pot-addled memory doesn't take a thing away from the FACT that Rickey was the greatest player to ever step foot on the diamond. Even if he were a surly cockass ala Bonds, his greatness would still be undeniable. Fortunately for all of us, Rickey was, and still is, a gracious man of the people. Many old white men have derided his flashiness and confidence but there are few athletes I'd consider acceptable role-models for my potential children... and Rickey's right up there.

Negra Modelo, Bleach & David Wells

This entry begins like so many others: I was making a late night Walmart run for mexican beer. This particular night I was already more effed up than anyone really has any business being. I chose six Negra Modelos as a change of pace and grabbed some job-enabling hair bleach before meandering up to the cards and picking out a discounted-to-$5 six pack box of '07 UD. The one Pad I pulled was the one guy I've seen start more games than anyone else. I've always been a fan of Boomer Wells, even when he was a Yankee- and if you know me, you know that's saying something. Nice card, nice memories. Worth $5? You be the judge.

Piazza

Seeing Alex Cora play the past few days has reminded me the only other person I was a fan of despite their Filthy Effin' Dodgerdom. From minor-league Little League through high school, I split time between second base and catcher because Joey Cora and Mikey P. kicked so much ass. When we snagged him up for the '06 season, I totally wound up with a PFOB; worlds had collided.

Koooooouz!!!

I thought that how SD fans supported Kouz through his slow start in his rookie season was classy and respectable. The backlash he's receiving now seems to negate that. Kevin established himself with a strong rookie campaign despite the aforementioned poor exit from the gate. His sophomore season was derailed by injury and nearly everybody I've heard utter his name as of recent is ready to write him off barely a month into this season. As for me, well, I'm not quite ready to lump him with Joe Charboneau just yet...

Continued

Note: the card has absolutely nothing to do with the story.

When somebody shoves a gun in your face, you tend to do what they say; I raised my hands and slowly lowered myself face first on the floor until I was handcuffed and dragged onto the porch with the rest of my friends as three misguided departments of law enforcement set upon destroying the house. During this time we were asked if anyone had any drugs or weapons and I volunteered my meager two grams, max bag of herbal... this turned out to be the only drugs on the premesis so they hauled me to regional on a ticketable offense, both to save face by having something to show for their full-scale failure and to try to pump me for information about things I know nothing about. Good times...