Gaylord Perry Visits the Inevitable
You can't get to Cooperstown without spending some time in New York
1981 Topps Gaylord Perry (#582) - Card of the Day
Some players seem to hang on, like, forever in an attempt to reach a certain milestone or maybe because they just can’t stand to walk away.
On the mound, for instance, witness Early Wynn coming back to the Indians at age 43 to get the one win he needed for 300 in his career.
Or Steve Carlton, who would have been perfectly happy posting a 61 ERA for the Swampspit Skeeters at age 91 if it had counted toward his major league record.
Or Gaylord Perry, who pitched for six different teams in his final five seasons, and seven different in his final seven summers. The goal there was to both reach 300 wins and finally exhaust the supply of petroleum jelly he picked up in the back room of a San Francisco dive bar in the early 1960s.
Along that late-career journey, Perry found himself toiling for the also-ran Rangers in mid-August of 1980. His record stood at 6-9 but with a decent 3.43 ERA, and he was still 15 wins shy of the three-century mark.
There happened to be, at that same time, a team in New York who was trying to win the American League East. The Orioles beat the Yankees on August 14, moving Baltimore to within 2.5 games of the Bombers in the standings.
Apparently, that was enough to goad general manager Gene Michael and/or owner George Steinbrenner into action. That same day, the Yankees sent Ken Clay and a player to be named later (who turned out to be Marv Thompson) to the Rangers in exchange for Perry.
Two days later, La Grasa Grande went eight innings to beat the Orioles — in the same series the teams had been playing on the 14th. It was an auspicious beginning that turned a bit bland and repetitive from there, as Perry ended up 4-4 with a 4.44 ERA (I grease you not) in eight starts and ten total appearances for New York down the stretch.
Not awe-inspiring, but not team-sinking, either. Indeed, the Yankees boosted their division lead to six games in mid-September before finally taking the title by three games over the 100-win Orioles.
Perry did not pitch in the three-game American League Championship Series against the Royals, a Kansas City sweep. And he was always viewed as a rental, so no one was too surprised when he moved on to sign with the Braves as a free agent for the 1981 season.
But by the time Perry was slipping pitches past National League batters again, all three card companies were commemorating his run through the Bronx. None of them showed the future Hall of Famer in action, but Topps at least caught the wool sweater he wore under his Yankees pinstripes.
Today, it’s a bit sobering to realize the old man on that card is actually younger than anyone who was alive to pull it from a “live” pack is today. The good news for me — and probably for you — is that I only need 314 more wins to match Perry.
And, like Carlton, my left (or right) arm is available for any takers.
Was It Really a “Highlight”?
Perry landed the first-quadrant slot on one of the most bittersweet baseball cards of my early collecting years. It was great to see Johnny Bench, Carl Yastrzemski, and Dr. Vaseline one last time, but it hurt to know it was the last time.
Even so, this card is always worth another visit, and I got a bit silly-sophical about it a while back. Check out 7 Things I Learned from the 1984 Topps Celebration of the Bench, Yaz, and Perry Retirements.
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What baseball cards make you happy and misty all at the same time? I’d love to hear your picks!
And, as always, thanks for reading.
—Adam
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The happy/misty card for me is the 1977 Topps Mark Fidrych. His photo reflected the joy of his 1976 season … and looking back at it only drives home that by the spring of ‘77 the magic was already over.
Hi again, Adam!
I continue to read and enjoy your work. Thank you!
Adam, you ask the musical question: What baseball cards make you happy and misty all at the same time?
As one might imagine, such a question prompts myriad responses from an old (age 64) collector like me. But there is one specific response that bubbles to the surface: Nothing quite gets my collecting blood flowing like early ‘70s Kellogg’s 3D baseball cards, excluding the 1973 set, of course.
I have the complete 1970 set in all of its uncracked glory, except for Johnny Bench, who I’m certain you love and am equally certain he broke my Pittsburgh Pirates heart on more than one occasion.
Only need Reggie to complete my ’72 set …
Anywho, I just love the COLOR of these cards. The photos are sharp. The text on the backs is well-written, fun and informative. Nothing puts me on the fast track to nostalgia quite like these cards do.
In those days, my luck dictated that I’d likely pull a Bill Parsons or Nate Colbert (the Padres One-Man Gang) from my box of Raisin Bran as I gazed lustfully at the Joe Torre and Vida Blue cards advertised on the cereal box. Reading cereal boxes was never more fun than it was in 1972! Sometimes luck would swing my way, and I’d pull a Clemente or Mays from one of the little paper envelopes in which Kellogg’s packaged those gems.
These days, I revisit this part of my collection more frequently than, say, my early ‘70s sets or tobacco cards. Kellogg’s 3D’s never fail to light a warm nostalgic fire in my card-loving heart. So, happy and misty? Yes.
A sad little aside, however: To my knowledge, Mr. Henry Aaron never appeared on a Kellogg’s 3D card. That sad oversight is our collective loss.
Keep writing, Adam. You’re good, kid … ed (who happens to be an English professor and easily can spot quality writing)