Today is Cesar Cedeño’s birthday which, as far as I’m concerned, should be a national holiday.
I mean, without Cesar and his sunny, smiling 1983 Donruss baseball card, I might never have loved baseball in the first place.
There would have been no hobby boom, as far as I knew. There definitely would have been no Wax Pack Gods, at least not this silly version of it.
So hurl your thanks or curses Cesar’s way — we/I owe it all to him.
To celebrate the big day, I thought I’d take a look at five cards that could make even the most ardent diamond detractor take up the game, and the hobby.
1951 Bowman Larry Doby (#151)
I probably first laid eyes on this card in the mid-1980s, before I knew who Larry Doby was or what he meant to the history of the game.
Yet even without any sort of context, Doby’s balanced stance made me feel like he was about to take the game in his hands, hoist the team on his shoulders, and just generally get some baseball business done.
And the billowy flannels reminded me of another card I have loved from (way) afar since almost as long as I’ve loved 1983 Donruss Cesar.
And the grandstand, filled with fans who could almost touch the field, felt like something out of Leave It to Beaver. No sterile spaceship stadium experience here (even though I still adore Riverfront and all its multipurposeness).
And — of course — the painted Bowman treatment made the whole thing feel like what it was…a work of art.
1957 Topps Jim Gilliam (#115)
This was probably the first card I ever fell for from a purely beauty standpoint. Somehow or other, I got my grubby little hands on a ratty copy back in about 1984, and I just couldn’t believe that cardboard like this walked the earth.
As with many other players who graced my collection, it would be years before I knew that Gilliam was actually a star — a Rookie of the Year, even!
All that mattered to me was the clean design of the card that let the man and his ambivalent — was he about to smile? yell? dash into the outfield? — and youthful expression carry the day.
It only hurt my Reds-colored soul a little bit to realize that it’s Dodger Blue that bathes your senses and swaddles you into the warmth of the game, never to loose its hold.
1976 Topps Johnny Bench (#300)
This is an easy pick, and a homer pick, too. But if I were going to try and lure a young man into the hobby and had just one shot, one card to get the job done, this’d be the one I’d slide next to his plate of mom’s spaghetti.
Standing there with a cloud of dust around him, a cloud that he probably created by breaking some baserunner in two, Johnny Bench is a conquering hero.
He’s an All-Star, a World Series champion. A baseball warrior who jumped into the middle of the fray, took control, vanquished the enemies, and stood tall and unscathed through it all.
Yeah, this is what epic heroes look like.
1983 Donruss Cesar Cedeno (#43)
I’ve prattled on about this card more times than you care to remember, but it’ll show up on lists like this one until my barrel of puns runs dry and they stop making keyboards that can spell GOAT.
Look, I know the 1983 Donruss set is nothing special.
And I know Cedeño fell off the Andruw Jones precipice while Jones was still a toddler.
But man, this card came along at exactly the right time and struck exactly the right chord to make me reconsider my long-standing disdain for baseball and baseball cards.
If Cedeño could be this happy playing for the Rusty Red Jalopy, well, maybe there was something to this diamond life, after all.
1988 Topps Bo Jackson (#750)
I was pretty happy with the 1988 Topps design when the cards came out — clean and photo-centric, with a splash of breaking-the-fourth-wall.
It was sort of a mashup of 1957, 1966, and 1967 Topps, and I was down with it, even if not everyone agreed. In fact, I still feel that way, and I know not everyone agrees these days.
To the doubters, I present the 1988 Topps Bo Jackson, which could have been a Sports Illustrated magazine cover…or a photo/art gallery exhibit…or a beacon for life-lovers of all ages, ilks, locations.
Come, children! Step into the sunshine of our green cathedrals, where men do the impossible. Where there’s great power, unmatched speed…but no hurry.
And, yes, there’s plenty of Gilliam-esque blue here to pull you in. I’m just glad Bo wasn’t a(nother) Dodger.
—
Alright, I know I’m preaching to the cardboard choir here, but I hope some of these cards tug at your heartstrings (or eyestrings) just a little.
Which cards do YOU think could turn a non-collector into cardboard maniac like us?
I’d love to hear your picks!
Until next time, I’ll be over here awash in Dodger Blue trying to figure out where it all went so wrong.
Thanks for reading.
—Adam
That Bench card is a thing of beauty, almost like a scene out of an action movie or western... for me, the Bo Jackson 1990 Score #697 was pretty impactful and unforgettable from a visual perspective... truly legendary in its time.