The year was 1989. It was a time of the ritualistic 1989 Donruss or Score pack for 50 cents every time my mom went to Target. It was a time to dream about what it would feel like to open up an entire case of baseball cards.
It was the birth of my love for baseball cards.
Every week, I was promised by my parents to go to the card shop and spend my allowance. One particular weekend, we ended up going to a dealer's shop who went to our church, instead of the Bullpen (the dealer was my hero!) I had my mind and heart set on a 1989 Topps Jose Canseco. Fresh off of his 40/40 year, Jose is pictured looking on, with a look on his face like he knows he's gonna do amazing things.
Dad and I went into the shop, and while dad was talking to Ronnie behind the counter, my eyes darted back and forth from all the cases.
No '89 Topps Jose.
I mustered up the courage to ask and Ronnie said "I'm sorry, we don't have one. But we do have a 1989 Score Canseco for the same value."
75 cents either way. I was hoping for a Jose who was gazing into the future, but instead, I'm met with Jose who looks like he is about to trip on something while playing whack-a-mole.
"But...but...I wanted the 1989 Topps Canseco."
"Well, you are just going to have to settle on the '89 score, or you won't get nuthin'!"
That is about as firm as dad ever got with me, but as a sensitive 9 year old child living a roller-coaster of a childhood, that was all it took to smack any sense of entitlement out of me. Lesson learned: Life just doesn't work out the way we want it to sometimes ... even with baseball cards.
I picked up the 1989 Score Canseco, and guess what? I loved it. I don't even recall how I picked up the 1989 Topps version, but now that I have 2, it is nice to have them in the collection - even though they are about a quarter each IF you don't have to pay $2 in shipping and find them in person.
