A Heartbreaking Trade of Staggering Mystery was found wedged between the storm door and the door door. The postmark said Kansas, and the contents may as well have fallen out of a twister, Auntie Em. You haven't lived unless you've opened a package that could contain literally anything, which partially explains why grown men yearn to relive their days of childhood. Think back. When were the two times when you had the chance to acquire massive amounts of new stuff? For most of us, it was your birthday and Christmas (or another applicable Winter-based religious hoiday). This also helps to explain why this community of mostly grown men and women goes to great lengths to open brightly wrapped packages, the contents of which almost immediately depreciate in value upon opening, a value inversely proportional, however, to their sentimental value, which grows like the Grinch's (or Lynch's) black, shriveled heart, busting through the little metal X-ray thing that allowed us to view it. Christmas every day, your birthday five times a week. This is why we open.
2008 Topps U&H #FC-30 First Couples Eleanor and Franklin D. Roosevelt
Well, let me peel this banana one side at a time...
The first thing that slid out from the brown paper wrapped package was a bunch of unopened 1983 Topps Baseball Foldouts, a product that I had not known existed.
Basically, these are like the wallet photos that the stock character The Long-Winded Guy tries to show off to co-workers, people in supermarket lines, uninterested prostitutes, and others who don't really care about his family tree. Produced after the Brewers' World Series season, this seems like a Yount wheelhouse product, but I don't think he's part of it. The players are selected based on career wins, career home runs, career batting average, career saves, and career stolen bases. Yount came in (tied?) for 11th place on the home run list in '82, so he probably would have made the fold-out if it were based on the previous season's stats, since 17 players are featured on each. Oh well, at least Gaylord Perry looks old as fuck.
Next is a box of Pasta Roni. My favorite pasta is cappellini, which my Italian 101 course at the University of Wisconsin-Madison helped me determine means "little hair."
But wait! There's a note, inconspicuously placed on the front of the box. I'm always a little wary of the verbiage on the sides of foodstuffs, so perhaps I should look inside before inviting guests over for a pot of delicious noodles.
I knew it! My thiamin mononitrate meter usually goes off the charts at times like these, but I was getting nothing when in contact with this. The gig is up!
Inside we find a complete set of 1993 Pacific NFL Foldouts. Keen.
The set is comprised of 30 cards, with one player representing each team. I'd say they go 5x3 1/2", with the top photo opening to reveal three inner photos. I scanned my favorite of the bunch, Brett Favre who had yet to make a playoff appearance.
And the inside.
Very nice stuff, Matt. I'll dispense with the usual pros and cons of the trade, because everything about this is cool. All of the folding going on makes me want to send a little something extra to Matt, but what I want to send is at school, so he may have to wait a little longer to receive his trade.
Also, I started with the previous post to thematically connect the background image to the card I'm trading away. I'm not sure if this will be able to continue, but for the time being I'm pleased with the results. Let me know if you approve, or if you're catching on.