Name of the game

I imagine that coming up with a name for a card set is a lot like coming up with a name for a new car model. Somewhere, somehow, someone thought that "Impala" was a name that would draw customers and sell cars.

In much the same way, card companies probably try to find a name that will trumpet their set, create intrigue, and sell a whole stack of cardboard. But there must be a fine line, too. Just as there was a "Probe," for cars -- which even cloistered nuns must have laughed at -- there is an "X" for card companies. Such an easy target. Pick a lousy name for a set, and card bloggers will beat that sucker to death.

But I don't think we've done enough to dissect the names of card sets. First of all, there are so many, creating more opportunity for duds (and winners). When I was a kid, you didn't have a company issuing a dozen different sets all under the same company umbrella. There was simply the name of the company. The name "Topps," so I've read, evolved from "tops," as the former American Leaf Tobacco's signal that it would be the best in its new venture, which was selling chewing gum.

"Fleer" came from Frank H. Fleer, the original bubblegum maker. "Donruss" was the combination of the first names of the company's founders. I'm not clear on how the name "Upper Deck" came about, but if I had to guess, it was an attempt to convey their "premium" brand of cards.

Personally, my favorite card company name was "Play Ball," which I guess really wasn't a company name, since the company was actually called "Gum Inc." (another great name). Then Gum Inc. became Bowman Gum.

"Pinnacle," which you see with the Mike Piazza card up at the top, followed in the footsteps of "Topps" and "Upper Deck" in using its name to tell its customers that they were going to receive "the best" by buying their brand.

But all of this was a precursor for what was to come: card companies issuing more than a dozen sets each, each with a different name, each screaming to the customer, "pay attention to ME!" "NO, pay attention to ME!"

In the last 15 years or so, we've come across all sorts of card set names -- many that seemed quite appropriate. Ovation. Victory. Opening Day. First Pitch. Showcase. MVP. Gametime. Greats of the Game. Diamond Kings. Sweet Spot. Even something called "HoloGrFx" I cld fgr out.

But then there are the set names that seem too full of themselves. What I call the pretentious names. There is an epidemic of those: Finest, Gold Label, Zenith, Preferred, Select, Elite, Masterpieces, Premium, Prestige, Ultimate, Best. Ugh. There's nothing I hate more than a braggart.

There's a Prestige card. Don't you feel special just viewing it? You should. It's a "Prestige." Bow before it's greatness.

My personal favorite in this department is "Exquisite." That title makes me laugh every time. I can barely say it without smirking. I'm waiting for when one of the card companies issues a set called "Delicious" or "Tasty." If you're going to issue a card set with a stripper name, you might as well go all the way.

All of this is a long way to go to get to some of the set names in which the subjects just don't fit the name for the set.

"Team Heroes" from Donruss a few years ago was a favorite. Seeing Paul Quantrill in a set that also includes more appropriate heroes, like Don Drysdale, makes me wonder what they're sniffing in the idea room. "Future Stars" is another one. Jeff Kent was not a "Future Star" in 2007. In fact, he's so cranky, he might as well be 85 and keep his left blinker on right now.

But the one that has gotten me riled up more than once is actually from a set that I like a whole lot: the Topps All-Time Fan Favorites set from 2003-05. Love that set.

Reader Brian was nice enough to send this card me. It's an authentic autographed card of Tom Niedenfuer. I have mentioned this once before, but Niedenfuer is no favorite of mine. And I'd wager that many Dodger fans would think the same way.

Niedenfuer was, for lack of a better word, the Dodgers' "closer" during the mid-1980s. If you look at his stats, they appear fairly good. But I am telling you I did not have a millimeter of confidence in him for virtually every second he wore a Dodger uniform.

I'm sure Niedenfuer is quite a fine fellow. He always seemed like the big teddy bear type. He apparently has done well for himself. He is married to Judy Landers, a blonde bombshell actress from the '80s, who I remember from shows like "The Love Boat" and "B.J. and the Bear." He has daughters. He's a family guy. But Niedenfuer was the target of an awful lot of fury during the 1985 National League Championship Series.

I mean, that's what Niedenfuer is mostly known for -- giving up the game-winning home run to Ozzie Smith in Game 5 of the NLCS.

But what I remember him for mostly is giving up the home run to Jack Clark in Game 6. To me, that was the most important home run. That home run, in the top of the ninth, decided the series. The Ozzie Smith home run gets more play, because it was a game-winning home run, and because Ozzie didn't hit a lot of homers, and because Jack Buck had to yell "Go Crazy, Go Crazy." (You better damn believe I was going crazy, Jack. But not the crazy you wanted to see).

Again, the Clark home run decided the freakin' series. And it was completely obvious that Niedenfuer should have been taken out before he surrendered that home run. You could say I had a premonition that Niedenfuer was going to give up that home run to Clark, but that would not be accurate. I KNEW that Niedenfuer was going to give up that home run to Clark, just as much as I knew that the wall that I would punch shortly after that home run would hurt like hell.

That series was so filled with angst for me. At one point I said to the TV, "Shut up, Vin," and clicked off the TV. Can you believe that? A Dodger fan, watching a Dodger playoff game, broadcast by Vin Scully, and saying, "Shut up, Vin" and then turning of the TV in mid game?

But what I couldn't figure out is if I absolutely knew that Clark was going to hit the home run, why didn't Tom Lasorda know that Clark was going to hit a home run, or why didn't Niedenfuer tell Lasorda out there on the mound, when Lasorda decided they would pitch to Clark instead of walk him, "Skip, I'm going to groove one and he's going to hit it to Uranus. Please, for the love of God, listen to me." Was it because they were too close to the situation? Was that it? Because it was as plain as fucking day from where I stood.

So, Clark hit the moon shot, I screamed, I punched, I screamed again, and the next season Niedenfuer gave out home runs like they were Swedish Fish. And somewhere in all of that, someone took away Niedenfuer's "Fan Favorite" status. Because, really, a closer who gives up winning home runs on a regular basis shouldn't be a "Fan Favorite." A closer who gives up home runs belongs on the "Island of Misfit Toys," with the Choo-Choo with square wheels. Make a set called "Island of Misfit Players," and Niedenfuer's your guy.

At least Topps didn't use the 1985 design for the Niedenfuer Fan Favorite card. That might have just done me in for good.

So, yeah, pick the name of your set wisely, or you might have a blogger go off, like I just did.

Oh, by the way, Brian also sent me some Allen & Ginter needs, and this card:

Probably because he knew the Niedenfuer card was going to set me off. Thanks, man.