YSaC, Vol. 1211: Yay Sports!
2012 March 19
Now, I like sportsball just as much as the next person. I mean, that game last night – the referees sure made some bad calls, didn’t they?
At the moment, as we seem to be in the midst of an annual intercollegiate playoff event, I thought it might be appropriate to purchase some sort of commemorative paraphernalia. Some sort of apparel perhaps, or maybe a likeness of an actual athletic personality, perhaps in some fashion which can be conveniently displayed.
Let’s see what we have:
Box never opened BaseBall cards – $10
Never Opened asking 10.00 firm.
Well, that seems perfectly reasonable to me. I’ll take six gross.
Incidentally, I just filled out my tournament bracket – I predicted that all the players would have a nice time.
Tally ho, Gary!
Curiosity got the better of me, so I consulted eBay.
Turns out Fleer #91 cards in a box have some value.
Looks to be between $2 and $8.
The Fleer Ultra cards are pretty solid at $10/box, though. But, that’s in an unopened (e.g. still in cellophane) box.
However, Sparky has presented us a dilemma. First off, it’s the front of the box that sets the value (not the end). Second, Sparky does not attest that any cards are within the box presupposed to be for sale.
Since even garage-sale sparkii an presumed to know such basics of vending, I find this to be a rather flagrant attempt at venality.
Which could be near ‘cheesburgr’ funny. Y’see, if a person bought this on CL and presumed that the box had contents, and Sparky so asserted, and such were not delivered; well, that’s felonious Mail Fraud. Which would allow the full unleashed wrath of the US Postal Inspection service to go be “all mediaeval” on po’r ol’ Sparky. But, then again, Spark’ might already know people in Marion, Florence, Texarcana, or the like, too.
Mail fraud aside. He’s labeled a box of Football cards as BaseBall-has-been a-berry-berry-good-to-me cards.
He flagrantly has a prejudiced venality against Football.
*I think I burst a blood vessel somewhere. I definitely heard a pop*
This is the rarest type of baseball card collection!
I guess they felt the need to cross train in the good old days too.
So if American soccer is the same as European football and Sparky thinks baseball is the same as football, then the cards are actually …
:consults conversion table:
Magic: The Gathering!
In which case, they’d probably sell for a whole lot more than 10.00 firm…
It’s actually from 1891, and the teams include Franch and the Audubon Empire.
The Audubon Empire? I so love the greeting cards they send me for being a donor.
Particularly the ones with all those birds….
I’m waiting on the Otterman Empire to come out with some trading cards. That’s what I’m saving my pennies for.
Sigh. I did not read “pennies.”
Me either.
Panties? Or pecil?
Do monkeys wear panties?
We wear special monkey panties. And on bad days, diapers.
Funky, that’s quite a collection you have there. Tell me, is your middle name Lorena?
As in “Bobbitt”? Ew!
I’ll have you know my middle name is AWESOME!!!
I tried to play basefootball once, but I couldn’t get the racket through the wicket, and they told me no dribbling when I went for a cue. And then Sparky got the whole team disqualified when he forgot where he was rolling and punched his oar through the tape at the end of the rink. I hate that game.
CALVINBALL
” I couldn’t get the racket through the wicket”
That’s what she said!
PS: Hearts for the Calvin and Hobbes reference. That and Bloom County are tied for best comic strip ever.
I believe this is a good example of “That’s what he said!”
I think that was originally called footbaseball, then was shortened to foosball.
Every single card is Bo Jackson.
Bo knows Craigslist?
I don’t know about that, but I do know that his name is Bo Jackson and he’ll dance for you…
Pro-visions cards? Are they eyesight tests, or just army supplies?
It’s the bottom of the 9th, first and twenty, Coach Buford has called for a time out while the hoop is rolled out to the pitcher’s mound. The outfield is alive with squirrels, and the caddy is trying to herd them into the end zone. And here come the greyhounds! The clock is ticking on this one, sports fans!
BONZAAAAI!
VUVUZELA!
This reminds me of the fastest growing sport in America, Gaufqwi.
I’d play that!
And I’d pay to watch you play that.
And I’ll be cheerleader! You ain’t lived til you’ve seen a pyramid made of moneys! 😀
Rabid Girbils sounds like a cover band.
This sport doesn’t go over well up here, it’s a summer sport and our summers are too short. Also the eagles keep taking off with the gerbils in mid-play, so do the ravens, hawks, falcons, coyotes, wolves, foxes, bears, lynxes, wolverines… it really is a dangerous place for small critters.
Awesome. The Fleer Footballs are my favorite baseball team of all time.
Fleer spent a lot of money on a new baseball stadium to lure the team from Topps.
I really don’t know what to say about this topic; I’m not an athletic supporter.
Funny, I always pictured you as a strapping jock.
Two Ralphs, One Athletic Cup.
From the pictures, it looks like the box was opened about eight times.
The first time the box was opened, was shortly after it was purchased. “Junior”(we’ll call the purchaser Junior) opened the box when he showed his dad what he had bought with his allowance. “Pops” was less than enthusiastic that Junior spent the money on something so frivolous instead of investing it in savings bonds. Filled with angst over his dad’s attitude, Junior put the box of cards on a shelf above his desk until the holidays. One of his cousins, “Jack the jerk” opened the box and scattered the packets around the room. Junior gathered up the packets, put them back in the box and put the box on the top shelf in his closet Where it stayed for a couple of years. When Junior went off to college, his parents packed all of his stuff into boxes so they could rent out his room. “Mom” recalls Pops opening the box of football cards, shaking his head in disgust and muttering, “Damned kid.” The box of cards wound up in a banana box along with a desk lamp and a model airplane. Junior was less than enthusiastic to find his room rented out.
After Junior left college, the relationship with his parents became even more strained. He was given the choice, Either to sleep in the attic, or “get the hell out of the house you lazy fart.” as his father stated. So, Junior packed what he could into his Civic and drove away. He had opened the box of cards probably for the last time. There was not enough room.
Years later, Pops was cleaning out the attic, and found all of Junior’s stuff and took it to the curb. The garbage men refused to load up all of the stuff and told Pops he would have to dispose of the stuff himself. Pops called his friend “Bubba” and Bubba said he would haul the stuff away in his pickup truck. At the dump, Bubba went through all of the boxes before tossing them. He opened the box of cards, said, “Huh” and tossed the box on the passenger seat. Bubba’s son “Bobby” was ecstatic over seeing the box of cards, he opened the box, grabbed a packet to open it, but his father stopped him. “Them’ll be worth sumpin’ someday if’n ya don’t open ’em.” Bubba told his son, then he put the box in the pantry.
Bubba’s wife “Betty” was fixing dinner one day and while reaching for a can of yams, she spotted the box. “What’s this?” she asked herself as she opened the box and looked inside. “These don’t belong in here.” she said, and put the box on the top shelf in Bobby’s closet. (If the box would have had the capacity to think, it would have thought, “Oh no, not again.”) As time passed, Bobby’s interests turned to girls. He looked for a place to hide some “things,” when he found the box in his closet. He took the box to his dad and told him he didn’t want it anymore. Bubba’s poker buddy “Sparky” said, “Hey, I’ll take that in lieu of the five bucks you owe me, Bubba.” Bubba agreed and Sparky took the box home. Sparky opened the box, counted the packets to make sure they were all there. He set the box on the corner of his ottoman and took a picture of it. “I can double my money with these cards on Craigslist,” he said. “And I’ll put the picture in twice because I can get twice the money.”
I could be wrong about all of this. The pictures could have been Photoshopped.
*emails windy a cupholder full of birdseed*
Oops.
One, I’m a bit under the weather today, so look it over and see if I caught what you wanted changed. If not, a little more specificity would be appreciated. 8) Excellent story, by the way, and top quality bird seed!
You got it, thanks a bunch.
Still miss Mindfield, but your story was good too!
Where is Mindfield? I went on vacation and when I came back I never saw him post again.
I keep thinking of posting a Missed Connection ad in Craigslist Canada. He pulled up his blog and left without saying good bye.
I miss him too. If we could just track down Winston and Pickles, maybe they could tell us where he’s gone.
I think Winston and Pickles might be hibernating. But if everyone claps their hands while saying, I do believe in genie pigs! Maybe they will come back!
Windy…you should post one…be sure and make it extra creepy Spark-a-licious so he will know it’s from us! I miss that little Denture Dog!!
🙁
Well, if the words of my dad are any indication, “That guy is about as smart as a football bat!” then there’s nothing wrong with this ad.
Obviously a case of mistooken ingenuity – Sparkles the Capuchin labelled them ‘baseball’ because everyone knows that baseball players get to “first base”, “second base”, “third base”, and many of them get to go all the way. Football, on the other hand, may get to a “third down” but then, if they are lucky, have to go back to “first” – rarely do they get to go “all the way”. And, even if they do, it is only a few of them that get the chance to drive deep into the end zone.
Personally, I never wanted to put that much effort in just so somebody else could score.
So football is the more realistic metaphor for life…
That is what you are trying to say, right?
Dave, let’s try something different today. I’ll punch the ferret tribe, and they can punch you. 8) Punchity Punchity Punch Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Abner Doubleday!