Join the extraneous Topps Sports Club and get a lot of extraneous crap

Really, what self-respecting young Yankees fan would smile joyously while holding an Oriole’s baseball card, even one for genial Hall of Famer Brooks Robinson?

In my own misspent baseball card youth, the irreproachable Cal Ripken was consigned to a box or storage sleeve with nary a second glance, Streak or no Streak — maybe, in solidarity with Lou Gehrig, because of said Streak. Perhaps the lad above is grinning devilishly, and is about to embed that poor sumbitch in his bike spokes. That’s what we’ll choose to believe.

Anyway, Topps sure was anxious to lure kids into their utterly pointless Sports Club, with newsletters that were probably snail-mailed to you far too late to be of any real service — as if they would be anyway. And that certificate was likely consigned to the trash when your folks finally kicked you out of their house. The preview Topps cards would be nice, though. And, in fairness, so would the flip-down sunglasses, which would allow you to unlock your inner Luis Polonia.