In 1973 Reds
pitcher Gary Nolan posed while wearing uniform pants hiked so high that he'd
have to unzip his fly to blow his nose.
At the moment I
cannot look away from the '72 Topps card of Walter Alston. On it, the Dodgers'
manager—wearing an expression of pained impatience—is gazing heavenward and
holding up his right index finger, as if God is his waiter and Walter would
like Him to bring the check.
God did just
that, in a manner of speaking, in 1984, when Alston passed away at age 72. But
the truth is, the skipper will never really die. He's still very much alive in
my basement, forever enshrined in a Velveeta Valhalla.