(The cake was wonderful, you'll be glad to know. The presents were nice, too. Just three packs of Ginter with nothing special. But I'll be spending some of my birthday cash tomorrow on, oh, I don't know, possibly baseball cards. So the birthday was a smashing success. Time for Cardboard Appreciation. This is the 154th in a series):
Angel Berroa: What are we going up in the stands for?
Topps photographer: To take your picture for the set.
Berroa: In the stands?
Photographer: We're trying something new.
Berroa (looks at Blanco): Whatever.
Photographer: OK, this looks like a good spot.
Blanco: What do want us to do?
Photographer: Pretend like your fielding.
Berroa: Both of us?
Blanco: That would never happen.
Berroa: Yeah. We're both shortstops, so we wouldn't even be on the same field together.
Photographer: Don't be so literal. We're having some fun here.
Berroa (rolls eyes): OK, so how do you want us to pose?
Photographer: Just crouch down, like you're taking a grounder. But get close together, so I can get you both in the same shot.
Blanco: That'll look stupid.
Berroa: Yeah, why would be fielding right next to each other? If we did this in a game, we'd crack our heads open.
Photographer: You're being literal again.
Berroa: Fine. I suppose you want us to smile, too?
Photographer: You bet.
Blanco: Soooooo cheesy.
Berroa: You're not going to put some sort of lame title for this on the card are you?
Photographer: Of course!
Berroa: Ugh, what are you going to call it?
Photographer: Classic Combos.
Blanco: (groan, again): We're going to get so much shit for this.
Berroa: Are we getting paid?
Photographer: Uh ... yeah, sure.
Berroa: Great. Where do we stand?
(*Crouch. Smile. Click!*)
One of the dorkiest cards ever is born.
(P.S.: I don't even know if Andres Blanco speaks English. But I do know Berroa does. Here's the evidence:)