One of our video trips down memory lane on YouTube this week had us romping through 1981 Fleer baseball cards:
As always, that got me thinking — about what 1981 Fleer means to me … not in some existential, profound way (it was the set that broke the first Topps monopoly, after all).
No, more like, “what do you think of when I say ‘1981 Fleer’?”
So, what do you think of when I say “1981 Fleer”?
Here’s what I think of …
C. Nettles
If you know, you know.
And if you don’t, just let me tell you …
Graig Nettles was a near-Hall-of-Fame-level third baseman for the New York Yankees in the 1970s and early 1980s.
Fleer put them in their set, but called him “Craig” on the card back.
They corrected it soon after.
A hobby legend was born, as was the Error Card Craze, which was a stepping stone to just about everything else — the Rookie Card Craze, which begat 1984 Donruss Don Mattingly, which begat 1989 Upper Deck Ken Griffey, Jr., which begat the insane 1990s, which begat …
You get the picture.
Dueling Rickeys
Hey, Rickey! You stole the most bases in the AL! Look over here! (#351)
Hey, Rickey! You played outfield for the A’s! Look over HERE! (#574)
Little Hand
You can say it’s a piece of fuzz or a set of crinkled-up fly antennae, but we all knew it as the “little hand.”
Or, more deliciously, the “finger.”
“Finger cards” were distinct from “Fingers cards,” which were sort of Rollie in their presentation.
And, whatever sort of malady — or melody, depending on how you feel about the six cards affected — afflicted the Fleer printing press, they eventually corrected it.
So, do you prefer your Rick Dempsey with or without the “little hand”?
Pete Rose
Pete Rose was cool in the 1980s (at least right up until the end).
My dad told me Rose was a great player, so I believed it.
Soon enough, Rose was challenging Ty Cobb’s all-time hits record.
I didn’t need any of that, though, to tell me this card (#1) looked great. Like a little work of sports art, right there in my hand.
Slugger
At some point in about 1983, I visited ye olde local junke shoppe with my folks, and I finagled a Reds team set out of my dad.
There among the Joe Prices and Paul Moskaus and kneeling Johnny Benches were two George Fosters.
This one (#202) told it like it was — “SLUGGER.”
Not only that, but Fleer managed to mix up the #216 non-slugger Foster with the #202 slugger Foster in the first printing, then corrected it.
Hilarity ensued, naturally, which must be why Yahtzee is guffawing (or beaming, at least) here.
—
And, to wrap up, I’ll ask again, this time with a slightly different emphasis…
So, what do you think of when I say “1981 Fleer”?
Let me know, and you just might end up changing what I think of first when the first full-fledged Fleer set comes up over tea and crumpets.
Thanks for reading, and don’t look now … June is in the books.
Yikes.
—Adam