Subtext: Buy Fleer baseball cards, kids, or Roger Clemens will travel to your home and bean you in your damn ear

Ah, the happy days of Roger Clemens, before his career took a downturn, before he left the Red Sox and found an allegedly steroid-fueled pitching rejuvenation in Toronto, and before he joined the Yankees and became the mound-dwelling lightning rod of baseball’s inflated numbers era. Yes, in 1992 he was still a figure viable enough for a baseball card chase set and “superhero” puffery. (In some ways, this part of Clemens’ career was much like David Hasselhoff’s pre-burger “One to Grow On” era.) This was when all he had was a heater, when he had yet to add an on-field temper to his arsenal, one that fueled bat-throwing incidents and inspired potential targets to take karate lessons to protect themselves from the Rocket’s wrath.

Fleer baseball cards. 1992. BE THERE (OR ELSE).