-- by Josh Suchon
Note to readers: The
feedback on the “You Were Lucky, Hershiser” story was so positive, and
triggered so many memories from a childhood where my playground was the Oakland
Coliseum, I’ve decided to share more of these stories. I’m blatantly stealing
this idea from “Cardboard Gods” author Josh Wilker, who used his baseball card
collection to tell the story of his childhood in the 1970s. Wilker gave me his
blessing, so I’m going to use my autograph collection to tell the story of my
childhood in the 1980s.
To say that I was obsessed with the 1988 Olympic baseball
team is a massive understatement.
The summer of 1988 was the peak of my Sharpie-Scribbling,
Ball-Chasing, Game-Watching existence. I went to 53 A’s games that year. From
the time my freshman year in high school ended in June, until my sophomore year
started in September, I only missed two games – and that’s because I was in
Reno with my mom and sister to celebrate our birthdays.
The stars of the 1984 Olympic baseball team – Mark McGwire,
Will Clark, Barry Larkin, Cory Snyder, B.J Surhoff, Bill Swift, Bobby Witt –
were established in the big leagues by 1988. I recall reunions of that team at massive
baseball card shows, which were exploding in popularity.
I’d already snagged most of those players’ autographs at the
ballpark, so I didn’t wait in the lines and pay the money. But one of my
favorite purchases was an official baseball from the 1984 games in Los Angeles.
So when the 1988 Seoul Olympics arrived, I was ready for the
next generation of American heroes that would become major league stars. And
when I say ready, I mean ready to buy anything that had their name on it, and ready
to hound them for Sharpie Scribbles.
It wasn’t easy to find information or watch that team. Baseball
was only a “demonstration” sport. Pretty sure not a single game was on TV. This
is when NBC only had one network to show events. There were some highlights on NBC’s
coverage, but you’d have to scour the agate of newspapers, and hunt for little nuggets
from Sports Illustrated and The Sporting News.
Team USA won the gold medal at those games. Jim Abbott went
the distance in the championship game victory over Japan. All the baseball card
companies would follow Topps’ lead from 1985, and put those Olympic players all
over their sets in 1989.
It wasn’t enough for me to buy those Topps, Bowman and Upper
Deck cards. I found myself buying the “rookie” minor league card for those
players too.
In the case of Robin Ventura (Birmingham Barons), Tino
Martinez (Williamsport Bills), Ed Sprague (Dunedin Blue Jays) and Charles Nagy
(Kinston Indians), they were smart purchases.
In the case of a few others, it was an utter waste of money.
That’s why I still have in binders the 1989 team sets of the Springfield
Cardinals (Mike Fiore), Peoria Chiefs (Ty Griffin), Osceola Astros (Scott
Servais and Dave Silvestri), Shreveport Captains (Ted Wood), Cedar Rapids Reds
(Jeff Branson) and San Bernardino Spirit (Jim Campanis).
The most disappointing flameout was Griffin. I had big hopes
for him. So did the Cubs. They drafted him with the ninth overall pick in 1988.
The plan was for Griffin to take over at second base, so Ryne Sandberg could
move to third base. Griffin blistered the competition for the USA national
team, posting a .416/.485/.805 slash line, plus 21 steals.
I bought two 8x10 photos, a lot of his rookie cards, and
even some minor league cards. One year in spring training, I went to the Cubs
minor league fields to look for Griffin. Nobody else was there looking for
autographs. I found Griffin and got a signature on his Olympic card. He was
destined for greatness, I thought for sure.
That was a miss. Others were big hits.
Everybody knew Ventura would be a star. He had that 58-game hitting
streak at Oklahoma State, made his big league debut a year after the Olympics,
and was a regular in 1990.
Ventura made an appearance at a baseball card show in San
Francisco in the 1990-91 offseason. My good friend Jeff Coulthart and I bought
a dealer’s table at that show to sell cards.
It wasn’t my style to pay for autographs, but I made an
exception for Ventura with three specific items – his minor league card, his Olympic
card, and in the sweet spot of an (almost) shiny white ball that I got one day
at during batting practice.
Immediately, I placed them in a Ball & Card Display,
which I shortened to BCF for Ball Card Frame. I was all about the BCF’s,
especially for that Olympic team.
In spring training, I got Andy Benes and Abbott’s autographs
on those Olympic cards and the sweet spot of a ball. More BCF’s were purchased.
The shelves of my bedroom became a shrine to that Olympic team.
Usually, anything was fair game for an autograph. I made a
rare exception for a rare 1987 Olympic team item. Yes, 1987, the year before
the Olympics.
It’s a team set produced by the United State Baseball
Federation. Most of those players went on to play in the Seoul Olympics, but a few
didn’t. To this day, I’ve still never opened the packaging to look at any of
the cards. The only card I’ve ever seen is the pitcher Abbott, who is showed
with a bat in hand.
The back of the packaging shows the checklist, which
includes Frank Thomas, Gregg Olson, Cris Carpenter and Pat Combs.
The name Pat Combs means nothing to you. But for reasons
that I can’t fathom to this day, I was totally obsessed with Pat Combs. I must
have 10 of his minor league cards and 20 of his rookie major league cards. A
lot of good those purchases did me.
Olson is interesting to note. Once I learned he was on the USA
training team, I started purchasing more of his items, and added him to my BCF wish
list. When I took the photo a few nights ago of what remains of my batting practice ball collection, I saw Olson’s signature on a ball in the sweet spot
and in a protective case mixed in.
Not sure what happened to the autographed card, or the rest
of that BCF frame. Just like I’m not sure what happened to Olson’s once promising
career. I guess they both got injured somewhere along the way. But I do have Olson’s
signature preserved on an 8x10 photo. I remember exactly where I got it: the parking
lot of the Oakland Hyatt hotel, before he went across the freeway to the
Coliseum.
***
In 2000, my first year covering the Giants for The Oakland Tribune, their top prospect
in training camp was a kid named Kurt Ainsworth. He was a first-round pick,
made a solid pro debut, and his appearance in training camp warranted an early
feature story.
That September, Ainsworth was chosen for the USA National
Team that went to the Sydney Olympics. Ainsworth was the starting pitcher for a
couple victories in those games. Ben Sheets won the Gold Medal game over Cuba, and
those players came back home heroes.
A few of my colleagues, especially Mark Saxon, accused me of
writing too much about Ainsworth and having a man-crush on him. I tried to
justify it by saying what a top prospect he was for the organization, and what
else was there to say about Russ Ortiz and Kirk Rueter?
In retrospect, Saxon probably was right. The number of
stories and notes on Ainsworth probably was overkill. Upon reflection, maybe I’ve never got over my obsession with USA Olympic Baseball teams.
***
In 2008, a few weeks before I moved from Modesto to Los
Angeles to take the job as the reporter for the Dodgers Radio Network and the co-host
of PostGame Dodger Talk, I attended a fundraiser for the University of the
Pacific baseball team in Stockton.
Ed Sprague, a Stockton native, was the Pacific head coach.
He invited his friend and old Olympic teammate, Jim Abbott, to be the keynote
speaker. Abbott is an incredible speaker, and the audience was enraptured by
the story of his no-hitter, and how he was shelled the start before that
no-hitter.
For me, the best part of the night was the stories that
Sprague and Abbott told about that Olympic Team, and winning the gold medal in
Seoul. As I listened, I was a 15-year-old kid again.
Before leaving for that banquet, I thought about digging
through my trunk of childhood memories, finding the items left from my Olympic
collection that still needed to be signed, and buying a fresh new Sharpie to
get a couple new scribbles.
In the end, I decided against it. Autographs were my
childhood addiction.
Now, I’m content with a free banquet meal … and a chapter
for the Sharpie Scribbles.
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