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Are we there yet?

I really do not want to write about 2008 Heritage anymore. I just want to be done with it. Yet every time I complete a little more of the set, it seems like such an achievement that I feel required to write about it.

Maybe this will give you an idea of what the Heritage journey feels like:

You know how much long car rides sucked when you were a kid? We hated them. We would take regular trips to my grandmother's in Buffalo and they would last five hours. That was before they put in an interstate connection and cut the drive down to 3 1/2. So we drove through back roads and country towns. Over the river and through the woods. All of that.

One town we would drive through is called Avon. Arriving in the town basically signaled that we were two-thirds of the way through our trip. By that time we were practically mad with boredom. How mad? My brother and I spontaneously created a bizarre game involving Avon ladies (remember the Avon lady? I don't think the town Avon and the Avon beauty products company are related in any way, but that didn't stop us). We decided that Avon ladies were evil beings bent on chasing us down and destroying us. And we decided that Avon ladies drove VW bugs -- this was the '70s so those vehicles were everywhere -- and that anytime we saw a VW bug, we would have to lay down in our seat as quickly as possible so we were not visible from the window.

OK, now what does that have to do with anything? Not much except for the fact that this journey to complete 2008 Heritage is so excruciating that it reminds me of a trip to my grandmother's. Except that instead of creating an insane game involving Avon ladies and VW bugs, I merely just told you about an insane game involving Avon ladies and VW bugs. And, frankly, I'm a little concerned that I just did that.

So there you go, that's what this Heritage journey has done. It's making me absolutely incoherent and concerned for my well-being. And much like that drive to grandma's, I only want to know one thing: ARE WE THERE YET?

Fortunately, I inched a little closer to my destination with a package that arrived from The Collective Troll. If you haven't heard of the Collective Troll yet, head on over there. It's a wild ride that combines card collecting with machining metal, roller derby, good times and music. There are some epicly long posts, but somehow he keeps me reading until the end.

The Troll is a fellow Heritage nut. In fact, he's much more of one than I am, which explains why he's closer to finishing off the set than I am.

It also explains why he was able to clean out all but THREE of my black back needs. He sent me 22 of the variations that I really shouldn't care about at all, yet somehow do.

There you go. That's just a sampling of what was sent. Fascinating, huh?

But I also received several of the regular green backs, including this hideous shot of Rich Hill. Just terrible. I know they did stuff like this back in the '50s. But they also had separate water fountains based on race back in the '50s. So, really, you don't have to do everything the old way.

Here is a card of someone I don't like a whole lot. Pedro should've stuck one in Jorge's ear way back when.
And here is Prince Albert. And suddenly this has transformed into a mail day post on A Cardboard Problem.

I also received some Dodgers in the package,. One of them is this 1995 Collector's Choice card of Rafael Bournigal, one of those prospects that the Dodgers PR writers were always touting in their annual yearbooks. He never amounted to much.
This is probably my favorite Dodger card in the package. I've been looking for the last few 2007 Heritage Dodgers for a little while. The arrival of Ethier means I only need the Furcal and Stults cards. Both short-prints, I believe.
Lastly, here are two 2007 Bowman cards of two of the most reliable players on the Dodgers this year. Who knew that one of them would be Pierre? And, by the way, he did not play in college at the same time that Ryan Braun did.
Many thanks to Marck, a.k.a. The Collective Troll, for the cards. Some Rays and Heritage will be headed his way.

And sorry about that Avon story. The Heritage made me do it.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I made up stupid games for long car rides with my brothers too. Its ok.
You better believe I am all about the stoopid games, too!!! This was an awesome post, thanks for all the nice words, too. i love to trade! i also love to write ridiculously long posts and its really rad when someone reads them... Heritage is an evil addiction and a cruel mistress. every time i think i am nearly done, i realize i am missing more... 1 year, 40 blasters, a bunch of trades and i still need 12 cards. cheers! troll
Tony said…
Canadian Customs has to confiscate earrings at the border, you just never know if Frank was going to use it on someone....
Dinged Corners said…
We need that Micah Owings card. Is he available? We'll send you things.
MarieBay said…
I'm a little behind on my reading from school, so I am just catching up. I would love to hear what you hate about Posada considering he is virtually harmless and since he doesn't even play in the same league as your Dodgers. (I'm saying this out of curiosity not because I want to be one of THOSE Yankees fans.)
night owl said…
DC ~ Micah's '08 Heritage card is one of those dastardly short-prints that I was waiting for. Do you have another short-print Heritage from that set, perhaps? If not, I'd be happy to take some Dodgerish stuff, and I could throw in some other cards. Let me know.

Marie ~ My dislike toward Posada has carried over from the days when Pedro Martinez was on the Red Sox. I have always sided with the Red Sox, since my father and brother are loyal Boston fans (my brother used to work in Fenway Park). Posada kind of projects this whiny nature that may or may not be there, but Red Sox fans certainly pick up on it.

And, you know, the Dodgers-Yankees thing kind of goes way back so there's all that animosity built up over the years. Just don't like the Yankees. They're icky. ;)
Dinged Corners said…
No that's quite totally ok, don't mess with the SP gods.

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