(Is there anything better than knowing a vacation is on the horizon? Not at my age there isn't. And so, we've stumbled upon the theme of this week's Cardboard Apprecation. This is the 90th in a series. I think):
It is Jamie Moyer's 48th birthday. At least it is for another 43 minutes as I write this.
I know. How timely.
But it would have been more fitting if I had forgotten his birthday entirely and wrote a belated birthday post instead. And here's why:
I had a hell of a time finding this card.
I had just gotten off of work, and after a delicious late-night dinner of Salami Sandwich and Applesauce (don't all get envious at once), I went to my "temporary baseball card station" to retrieve this Moyer card to scan.
My "temporary baseball card station," heretofore known as TBCS, is situated in the living room. It's a haphazard stacking of soon-to-be-trade posts and soon-to-be-trade packages, which take up a tiny enough space on a cabinet that they do not piss off my lovely wife.
I looked to my soon-to-be-scanned pile where I knew I had placed the Moyer card. But it wasn't there.
Flummoxed, I quickly scanned all of the piles on the cabinet in case I had misplaced the Moyer card in one of the stacks. But it wasn't there.
I looked on the shelf beneath, where I keep soon-to-be-mailed trade packages and soon-to-be filed Dodger cards, and soon-to-be written post ideas. No Moyer card there. The only loose cards were a couple of Dodgers, soon-to-be organized into the soon-to-be-filed Dodger stacks.
This meant one thing. I had left the Moyer card in my "card office" upstairs. This was not good, because the family was asleep upstairs. But I carefully crept to the card office, heretofore known as the CO, slowly opened the door, slowly closed the door behind me, and quietly clicked on the light.
I picked up my 2010 Topps binder, where I've filed the few update cards I have (yes, the Strasburg is with the update cards). I went to the page where the Moyer card would be. It wasn't there, confirming my belief that I had actually taken the card out of the page at some point recently.
So, I scanned the CO, looking on the desk, and on top of the binders on the desk, and on top of the binders below the desk, and on the shelf above the binders, and on the book shelf behind me, and on the chair behind me, and on the floor. No Moyer card.
So, I went into the bathroom next door, because sometimes I carry cards into the bathroom because I tend to be absent-minded as hell and am afraid if I leave the card behind in another room, my post idea will escape from my brain and swirl down the sink drain never to be thought of again.
But it wasn't in the bathroom.
So, I went back downstairs. Perhaps I had scanned it already and it's still in the scanner bed. I looked. No Moyer card.
I knew I had gone down in the basement earlier today to package up some cards, so I thought maybe I left the card in the basement. I looked through my packaging materials on the desk in the basement. No Moyer. I scanned through some hockey cards I had been looking through earlier in case I had accidentally placed the Moyer card with the hockey cards. No Moyer.
"Damn," I thought. "It MUST be up in the card office. I just missed it the first time."
So, off I went, back into the darkness, back into the land where people are sleeping, except for idiot boy who needs his stupid card for his pointless post. I slowly opened the door to the CO again, slowly closed the door behind me again, and quietly clicked on the light again.
I looked through stacks of random cards on the desk that I haven't filed yet. I scanned the tops of the binders again. I vacantly stared at the shelf, even though there's no way the card could be there. I rummaged through some unfiled '91 Donruss on the chair behind me. No Moyer.
I quietly clicked off the light, slowly opened the door, slowly closed the door behind me, and went in the room across the hall and to a closet where I keep a dupes box. There are stacks of dupes I haven't put in the box yet. I checked one stack that I had recently touched. No Moyer.
Frustrated and resigned to writing a trade post instead, I shuffled back downstairs. I looked quickly at the soon-to-be trade post cards and soon-to-be trade package cards on the TBCS. No Moyer. I looked at a binder sitting on a stereo speaker next to the TBCS. Sitting next to the binder was a stack of about 50 Donruss cards I need to catalog. I picked them up and absent-mindedly shuffled through the cards. After seeing blue border after blue border, I noticed the bottom card was white.
The white card on the bottom was upside down. The name on the back of the card was Jamie Moyer. And the number on the back was US-95.
I had found my card! It only took me about 20 minutes.
Wasn't that a pathetic tale?
Now you know why Jamie Moyer is my hero.
Moyer is the last guy competing in major league baseball who is older than me. The only one. Less than two weeks ago, he was pitching in the Dominican Republic because he is a free agent and wants to draw the attention of major league team next season. He injured his elbow. Badly. He may need surgery.
But Moyer isn't retiring. He stated over the weekend that he plans to get healthy and keep pitching. He was asked, "What if you have to undergo Tommy John surgery?" He said simply, "That wouldn't change my plans."
Moyer is 48. He is flying to and from the Dominican Republic. He is appearing on national television. He is competing at the highest level of baseball ever known.
I am younger than him and I am so feeble-minded I can't find his bleeping card.
Godspeed, Mr. Moyer. As long as you're out there pitching, I'm still young.
Even if I can't remember a damn thing.
Hey, how about that? There are still 6 minutes left in your birthday.