CardBud

[batmagadanleadoff]

1971









Even the back is barely meeting you half way.... And now that they've finally given Bud the satisfaction of an established big-leaguer removing his minor league stats from the back of the card, they also remove the stat lines from his first several seasons, as if he's somehow still (or again) a rookie.

And lest the point be missed, this is a guy coming off his first All-Star season — a year that would see him finish 20th in National League MVP voting.

One might think the single line of stats would allow room for some ....

Yes. But Bud wasn't singled out. All of the cards from that set listed only the previous season's (1970) stats.

[batmagadanleadoff]

That's a great Mets card, isn't it? And you know, any player chosen for the limited Kellogg's set can hardly be called "under the radar". By now, our man Bud has also landed on the covers of not one, but two national sports magazines.







That was back when magazines mattered.

[Edgy MD]

Also worth noting the bad text alignment in the data box listing Harrelson's first year as a pro and first MLB year.



Come on, let's be professional here.

[batmagadanleadoff]

Yes. And check out that Kellogg's card again. Bud's a "super star"!

[Edgy MD]

Yeah, I was going to note that, but I had already grown long-winded enough. Compound words are often born as two-word phrases, before becoming hyphenated, and ultimately colliding into one word. I don't know if "super star" was the standard mode of expressing the term at the time, but it sure looks indifferently literate now.

[Edgy MD]

Ken Boswell:



Joe Morgan:



Ken Burkhart:

[Marshmallowmilkshake]

And Nolan Ryan! A glorious 1971 action shot!

[Edgy MD]

1972



The turbulent period of 1972 had Americans looking backwards, and Topps framed their cards with a splendid design reminiscent of an art deco 1920s moviehouse marquee. America would soon be consumed by Jazz Age films like The Sting, Paper Moon, and The Great Gatsby, and as usual, Topps was ahead of that curve.

Bud's main card shows him doing something Topps never before depicted as a part of his skill set — batting lefthanded. It's the way he took the majority of his at-bats, of course, but this is his baseball card debut of a lefthanded stance, with the left field stands at Shea somewhat obscured by the netting of the batting cage he's posed in front of. While this pose is clearly performative, Bud commits to his role, and his usual steely gaze gets an extra dose of steeliness, his blue eyes paler and almost robotic in their intensity of purpose.

The reverse side overcompensates for 1971's having only a single year of stats, going back to include Bud's minor league numbers, despite him now having seven seasons of MLB performance to account for. That leaves very little room for abstract, but they get in three new facts, none mealy-mouthed, all relating to his most recent season.

Not impressed? Don't worry. It's 1972 — and in the year 1972, Bud Harrelson and cardboard teamed up more often than Mel & Tim. They were two great tastes that went great together. You just saw Topps #53 and, well, the editors got such a jones for Buddy that they dedicated #54 to him as well.



Unable to leave behind the action shots of 1971 even as they switch to posed torso shots in 1972, Topps created a special edition series from which they couldn't resist a little Budliness. Bud is seen here again batting lefthanded — for reals this time — against a day-game backdrop of Shea field level seats and dugout façades painted white, which probably was a good way for firstbasemen to lose track of throws. Bud doesn't look like he made the strongest of contact with his toothpick of a bat here, but he's characteristically fast out of the box, trying to get the most out of his abilities.

The catcher appears to have orange-and-black equipment, which suggests to me we're looking at an Astro or Giant here, but he also seems to have a skin tone characteristic of African heritage, and, well, neither of those two teams fielded a catcher of color in 1971. Maybe I'm wrong about the fleshtone or maybe we're looking at Manny Sanguilen of the Pirates here, breaking the team's color scheme with the knee cups on his shinguards. I don't know, but I'm sure somebody does.

The internal advertising on the back features Bud's future teammate and manager Joe Torre, as well as roommate Tom Seaver. The meta artwork that is Topps' illustrations of their puzzle cards is hit and miss. The Torre illustration kinda looks Torre-esque if you squint, despite the square chin and the clean shave being uncharacteristic of the subject, but the Seaver illustration is right out, and shown that image without a caption, I'd guess 100 other big league figures — Bill Virdon, Gaylord Perry, Bobby Grich — before Tom Seaver.





You'd think Topps was done Budding with #54, but no way! Here's #496 in which we see our young Californian squinting into the sun with all the resolve that would turn him into the big leaguer we celebrate. Juvenile Bud recognizable by that gaze and his triangle-shaped face, despite gap in his front teeth — something he would either grow out of or see corrected through the magic of orthodontics. (Orthodontics would provide little help to a similar concern with this writer's teeth.)

The back of the card makes up for the paucity of abstract from #53, telling the story of the older version of this boy and his exploits in high school and college, where — WOW! — Bud played third base! If a lightweight like Bud was your thirdbaseman, San Francisco State, who was your shortstop?!



Overwhelmed by the insatiable demand for Bud's 1971 3D card, Kellogg's went back to the well with this extra-dimensional representation of Harrelson shortstopping against a backdrop of puffy cumulus clouds hanging in a gorgeous blue sky. The spotted 3D frame looks like a field of snowflakes, as if to say that, when Bud starts fielding grounders, a window of spring has opened up in a wall of winter.

Kellogg's again puts Topps to shame with outstanding, and well researched, abstract on the back, making you forget the lack of design. Bud is "still" the top shortstop in the National League? Hah! Suck it, Chris Speier! Eat shit, Don Kessinger! The standard-bearer is clearly Bud Harrelson and he has been for some time. The rest of you are just showing up.




Part of the orgy of Bud Harrelson cardboard variations in 1972 was due to the fact that, in this period, Topps cards were also marketed under the O-Pee-Chee brand in Canada. They were largely indistinguishable from their Topps counterparts apart from the different copyright information and passing nods to bilingualism out of a grudging respect for Canada's French-speaking minority. Despite their apparent redundancy, if you're a Bud Harrelson completionist, your set ain't complete without these.

[batmagadanleadoff]

The catcher on the "In Action" card is either Earl Williams or Hal King. The Braves logo patch is clearly visible on the catcher's left sleeve.

I'm going with King. I think that photo was taken on a Saturday, which would be the game played on May 22, 1971. The reason I know this is because I know (or used to know) one of the kids in the first row leaning on the top of the Braves dugout. It's definitely not Sanguillen.

The back of the card makes up for the paucity of abstract from #53, telling the story of the older version of this boy and his exploits in high school and college, where — WOW! — Bud played third base! If a lightweight like Bud was your thirdbaseman, San Francisco State, who was your shortstop?!

Somewhere in my collection of Mets stuff, I have Harrelson's High School yearbook. Believe it or not, but Bud was also on the football team. Wide Receiver.

[Edgy MD]

I believe it, because Topps has told me of it.

And yeah, Hal King it is. I knew you'd recognize the sleeve patch. I'm sure I'd've sussed it out had I put in the work ... but so many cards!



Sanguillen, indeed!

[Edgy MD]

Hold the phone on 1969. There's this card from a limited edition series printed by the Boy Scouts of America in which Bud doesn't even look like Bud.