As a lifelong Phillies fan, I have long been familiar with the name Jim Konstanty. As a member of the pennant winning Whiz Kids, he won the 1950 National League MVP award. I was a young kid in the late '70s, and I often heard Phillies fans speak of that 1950 team, since they were the last Phillies club to reach the World Series.

By 1956, Konstanty was on the New York Yankees, the team which beat the Phillies in that Fall Classic. He was nearly 40 years old, and at the end of his career. In that year, Topps captured the veteran pitcher on card #321.

The portrait of Konstanty accurately depicts an athlete at the end of their playing days. It would not have surprised me to see "coach" or "manager" on the front nameplate rather than a position. He looks wise and learned; however, does not appear to be wildly energetic.

The background image intrigues me. At first glance, it appears to be a typical ballpark scene. As I looked more closely, though, I discovered that something simply did not add up. Furthest from the viewer, there is an outfield wall, visible stands, and some architectural features. It seems like the sight one would see from the third base dugout. Then, in the foreground, Konstanty is following through after throwing the ball...seemingly into that same dugout.

Additionally, take a look at the right edge of the card, near Konstanty's ear. There appears to be a fence and a treeline. I'm no photo expert; however, I believe the perspective is off here. In total, the action shot seems to have been crafted from three different pictures:

- Konstanty throwing
- The large outfield scene under the nameplate
- The small outfield scene near the right edge

As I continue to collect this set, it is becoming apparent that Topps took some creative license with the artwork for their cards. Not that there's anything wrong with them doing this. In a way, it actually adds to the appeal of the cards. Topps chose to produce something which would bring fans, predominantly children, closer to the game.

Card #215, Tommy Byrne, shows a Yankee left-hander who was coming off perhaps the finest season of his 13 year career. In 1955, he went 16-5 with a 3.11 ERA and finished 14th in the MVP voting.

Byrne's 1956 Topps card shows a portrait of a World War II veteran in his mid-30s. He had missed two years of his career due to service in the U.S. Navy, an experience similar to many of his peers. His expression is somewhat serious, with eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed upon something in the distance. I wonder if he was actually gazing inward and contemplating something about which none of us could ever know.

The action shot is beautiful in its presentation. Byrne is shown on the mound, mid-delivery, at the moment of release. There is no batter pictured..no other players...no crowd. I've often heard that great pitchers have the ability to block out nearly everything when expertly plying their craft. To me, this image exemplifies the sort of disposition in which a top-notch hurler would find themselves when everything is working just right.

Poor Johnny Kucks.

For starters, his name was almost certainly cause for some hazing. At the beginning of the 1956 season, he was a mere 23 years old. I imagine the veterans had a field day with the kid. Still, he was in the major leagues. Among other things, this led to his very own Topps baseball card. The first time Johnny saw the card, though, he probably didn't react very well.

His portrait isn't exactly the most flattering picture, to put it gently. The artist who colored (or created) this image seemed to have some difficulty with accurately rendering Johnny's face. I checked photographs of Kucks...he looked nothing like the kid shown here with somewhat lopsided eyes and a vacant expression.

When he looked on the back of his card, Kucks would have undoubtedly noticed that Topps did not get his date of birth correct. They were off by a year; he was actually born in 1932. This is the second time, in roughly 40 cards, this error has presented itself. Small sample size, i know. However, it seems rather prevalent.

A closer inspection of the back reveals another error. His career stat line shows that he racked up quite a few numbers before 1955...apparently without playing a single game. Somewhat less-than-stellar quality control at Topps that year, it seems. I guess their purchase of Bowman, and lack of competition, may have had an impact in that area.

The card does have some redeeming qualities, though. The background is spectacular, featuring a classic '50s stadium image. The advertising on the outfield wall, while not quite readable, is certainly visible. The architecture of the stadium is beautiful, uncluttered, and a great representation of ballparks from this bygone era.

In the foreground, Kucks' pitching delivery looks clean and graceful, almost effortless. His frame certainly looks to be that of a pitcher. He looks entirely natural in the role of a big-league hurler.

Lastly, there is the autograph. It is large and free-flowing, a well-executed example of the perfect Palmer method taught in schools during the first half of the 20th Century.

Overall, I found this card extremely interesting. There were so many small details that caught my eye and led me to further exploration. Moving forward, I'll certainly take notice whenever I see cards or photos of John Charles Kucks.

Be honest, would you have guessed that Tommy Carroll finished his career with a .300 batting average? Granted, Carroll only played in a total of 64 games and collected only 30 at-bats. Still, not many players have compiled that magical lifetime mark.

His 1956 Topps card offers many interesting details which caught my eye, For starters, there's the background image. Take a look at Carroll's right foot. It certainly makes me wonder what took place the instant after this photo was taken. This fairly normal looking infield scene may very well have turned quite chaotic.

Aside from a potential kick-to-the-groin, there are some other things that I noticed on the card front which weren't in any of the other cards I have seen thus far. Carroll seems to have either run or slid so hard that his cap fell off. Now, this is a common scene in the game, especially when the runner in question is a teenager - Carroll was 19 years old when this issue was released. However, I simply had not yet sen a '56 Topps card depicting it.

Another thing that struck me as odd was the bill of Tommy Carroll's cap. In the portrait image, it appears much smaller than those worn by other players. In a way, it seems reminiscent of the caps worn by players in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Card #12, Andy Carey, shows a player sporting a "normal" cap. At least, it looks much more like the one I'd expect to see on a ballplayer from the '50s. Quite a difference from the previous card I had posted.

The portrait image draws my attention almost immediately. Carey has an intense look on his face, to go along with features that one might find on a soldier who just emerged from a foxhole. His eyes are narrowed and his gaze fixed on something unseen to his left. There are streaks of dirt on this face which contrast sharply with a clean streak that starts at his right ear. The effect is similar to face paint meant to be worn as camouflage.

Moving on to the action scene, even that image exhibits violence. Carey is shown tagging the runner squarely in the face, an act surely not received well by the opponent. Speaking of the tag, there's something not quite right with this image. The glove looks a bit unnatural, and there's a "watch" around Carey's right wrist. This would be highly unusual for a right-handed thrower..who was playing the infield at the time.

All things considered, it seems as though the team at Topps was once again taking creative license in an effort to put forth an exciting issue. In my opinion, they succeeded. I would recognize this card, from a distance, in a heartbeat. Additionally, it will almost certainly trigger memories of today...when I spent some time pondering a 64-year-old piece of cardboard and its marvelous nuances.

Joe Collins, pictured here on card #21, was nearing the end of his 10-year career by 1956. He spent the entirety of that decade with the New York Yankees, playing multiple positions along the way.

Collins is shown here as a first baseman, leaning in and attempting to apply the tag on a runner there. I find it interesting to look at the way this runner is standing on the bag. If he were legging out an infield single, one would expect him to be running straight down the line. If he rounded first (or took a lead) and was trying to get back, I would think his lead foot would be on the base.

Instead, the runner seems to have taken a somewhat circuitous route back to first. Combine this with Collins' awkward, almost stumbling body position. It seems to me this was an exciting play to watch in real time. If the action shot on this card was created by using a photo, I applaud the photographer for seizing the moment.

#40, Bob Turley. #52, Bob Grim. #223, Randy Jackson.

These are the last three cards I own that had not yet been posted. I find each of them beautiful, colorful, and filled with action. However, I'm going to take a break from my typical long-winded write-up on each card. Instead, I'll simply offer a few general thoughts.

When I picked these up a couple months ago, the world was a decidedly different place. Then, COVID-19 hit. As we turn the calendar from March into April, it has affected nearly every part of our lives. This, of course, includes collecting sports cards.

I realize that we'll have a return to normalcy someday, hopefully soon. When that day comes, I'll be looking forward to attending card shows, along with all the other things that have been postponed, rescheduled, or cancelled lately. Until that day, I plan to do something for which there is seldom enough time.

I'm going to take a good look at all that cardboard I've collected throughout the years. Additionally, while flipping through binders and sorting through boxes, I'll slow down and enjoy the experience. After all, I got these cards to enjoy them. For the time being, I think I'll do just that.

Stay healthy and safe, everyone.

Eric, thanks for the play-by-play of this beautiful set. It is probably my favorite Topps set and I was fortunate to finish it two years ago.

Just a couple of other thoughts on some of the recent cards you posted:

Carl Erskine - this is obviously not a posed photo as Carl is in his follow-through from an actual pitch, however, as you mentioned there is no sign of a mound - no dirt, no pitching rubber and no orientation to the other parts of the stadium. And it looks like Topps filled in the background of his portrait with an airbrush, trying to reproduce the color of the grass, but didn't quite get the texture. Strange backdrop for the action photo.

Joe Collins - I believe Collins is reaching for a off-course pick-off throw from the pitcher that strayed too far towards second base. He is off balance trying to catch the throw and this has made the runner go back to the outside of the bag and tag it with his trailing foot. Certainly not a routine play.

Tommy Carroll - Who is this colored middle infielder making the play at second base? Looking at the uniforms, my guess is that it is Jose Valdivielso, SS for the 1955 Senators.

Has anyone seen any of the actual photos that these cards were printed from, especially the smaller action photos? I would think that might help a man identify some of the other players in them.

Stay healthy and safe as we navigate through this difficult time. And thanks again for the analysis of these cards.

I've gotten back on the 1956 set building kick. Card #30, Jackie Robinson, was a recent eBay pickup.

This is a mid-50s classic that I'm thrilled to have. It would be the last card of the Dodgers great issued during his career. While his skills had diminished somewhat, it's hard to tell from the action photo. Robinson is shown sliding into the plate, apparently having just stolen home. It was a fitting way for Topps to capture the excitement Jackie brought to the game of baseball.

Additionally, the back of this card has a very interesting cartoon panel. For starters, it mentions the Brooklyn Dodgers' one and only World Series Championship. Topps credits Robinson for his fine play; however, they chose to draw a rather unusual image of the 6-time All-Star.

Is it just me, or does anyone else think the main subject of this cartoon looks like Babe Ruth?

Awesome start! Good luck in this great endeavor!

I’ve got Koufax from this set in condition that probably matches up with what you are going for (not a blazer, not a beater). If you need him shoot me a PM and we can talk price (and scans).

Cheers!
Dan

Ps - I also have a 206 Mickey Doolan if you need him.

Yeah, even as a kid (6 years old), I was fascinated by the backgrounds of the '56's. Growing up on the West Coast, I never saw a big league stadium (I spent most summer nights at the Sacramento Solons PCL stadium) and looking at the backgrounds of 56's was like seeing the stuff on TV except they were in color. Does anyone know how they created the backgrounds? Were they just touched up photos or did they create paintings/copies of photos. I know they did paintings for earlier series of Topps Cards. It would be fun to find the artwork. Thanks for sharing Eric and y'all.

I picked up a few more cards for the set and will touch briefly upon them when posting images.

Card #257, Bobby Thomson, was part of a graded lot eBay pickup. Interestingly, the seller shipped the cards twice. Initially, they were lost in transit for 11 days. Then the package arrived...back at the seller's mailbox. Fortunately, the seller was super easy to deal with and the cards made their way to me quickly the second time around.

Thomson, of course, took part in one of the most famous moments in 20th Century baseball. His dramatic pennant-winning home run has been called, "the shot heard 'round the world" by more than a few fans throughout the years. Additionally, Russ Hodges' iconic (if somewhat redundant) call of, "the Giants win the pennant" has become almost as well-known as the Thomson homer itself.

The card front features Thomson grinning rather defiantly, almost smirking. Perhaps even five years wasn't quite enough time to wipe the smile off his face from the end of the '51 regular season. Topps paired his portrait with an image of Thomson unleashing a powerful swing. Giving the customer a view from above the batter's box was likely a deliberate choice. For me, this makes it easy to imagine being at the ballpark, perhaps even on that memorable day.

The card back has a trio of cartoon panels, as is typical for the 1956 Topps set. The first of those panels references Thomson's memorable 9th inning blast. As we approach the 65th anniversary of this set, that homer is (sadly) the only thing most people know about him. While being remembered primarily for a single at-bat may not be an ideal legacy, one thing is certain.

Bobby Thomson made damn sure we wouldn't forget him.

I’d like to give some public praise to a fellow board member. BlueSky (hi, Marty) saw my set building progress and offered to send me the two cards pictured below. No charge, no strings, just an unexpected and generous gift. Thank you VERY much, Marty. I really appreciate your generosity.

The first card is #59, Jose Santiago. The portrait shows a young hurler who appears quite happy. The expression of joy spreads over his entire face, highlighted by an ear-to-ear grin. Not surprising, really. After logging nearly 1,000 innings in the minors, he was finally in the big leagues. The action shot is (to me) the picture perfect vision of pre-game activity at the ballpark. There are the first stirrings of warm-ups taking place on the edge of a sun-drenched field. Santiago is in the foreground, loosening up his pitching arm. Other players have taken the field; however, are mostly staying near the stands. It's almost as if they're reluctant to kick things into high gear this early in the day. A few fans are visible in the stands, "early birds" seeking autographs perhaps.

In contrast, there is nearly no activity shown on the card of Jack Crimian. The Athletics right-hander is warming up on a seemingly empty field. The color palette used by the artist is darker, as though the day being portrayed was an overcast one. The portrait is that of a man for whom happiness is presently quite elusive. His smile, if it can be categorized as such, is thin and forced. The expression in his eyes is rather hard to read; however, it certainly doesn't evoke feelings of joy and excitement. Perhaps Crimian was pondering the career 9.36 ERA he had racked up in the Major Leagues entering the 1956 season.

# # #

I’m beginning to feel a sense of accomplishment - I'm getting close to being 20% of the way towards completing the 1956 Topps set. Pacing myself and taking the time to thoroughly enjoy each card has been a blast. I’m looking forward to possibly adding a graded HOFer or two, most likely in the 4-5 range, in the near future.

As far as Mayo Smith goes, I swear that card was a part of every lot of '56 commons I saw awhile back.

Am convinced there was one in every pack!

Card #75, Roy Sievers, shows an image we could all be seeing frequently this summer. He leans against a railing which separates the field from the stands. Unlike many similar shots, there is nobody in the seats. Absolutely nobody.

While baseball fans are beginning to wrap their heads around Major League Baseball in 2020, this mid-1950s common shows us a glimpse of the "action" we're likely to see this year. Sievers lazily props himself against the rail, likely stretching out his muscles as the day begins.

The morning sun can be seen reflecting off his sunglasses, yet the empty stands are awash with a green tint rather than golden sunlight. This seems to occur frequently with 1956 Topps cards. For reasons unbeknownst to me, their creative team chose this hue on quite a few issues from this set. The more frequently I encounter this, the more familiar (and oddly appealing) the colorization becomes.

Sievers' portrait shows a 29-year-old outfielder whose career was entering its eighth season. His facial features strike the balance between being experienced enough to have gained wisdom and being young enough to have enthusiasm. He looks relaxed, content, happy.

Perhaps this frame of mind helped propel him to his first of four All-Star seasons in 1956. It seemed as though he began to hit his stride and fulfill the promise shown during his Rookie of the Year campaign in 1949 with the St. Louis Browns.

Although not a household name today, Roy Sievers surely put fear in the hearts of opposing pitchers during an eight year stretch in the mid-50s and early 60s. From 1954 through 1961, Sievers finished in the top seven of the MVP voting 3 times. He also finished in the top 31 three other times. His best season (by "classic" statistics) was 1957, when he hit .301 with 42 home runs and 114 RBI. All this while striking out only 55 times.

As a matter of fact, Sievers never struck out 100 times or more in any of his 17 big league seasons. He hit over 300 home runs. He overcame numerous injuries, suffered early in his playing days, to put together a very nice Major League career.

I gotta say seeing all these close ups is giving me renewed appreciation for the 56 set. Great colors and very ambitious. I still feel like all these leaping Ken Griffeyesque home run robbing catches is a little over the top but still it is growing on me.

For the moment, it seems as though all the pictures have vanished. Hopefully, this is a short term software glitch.

Don Liddle.

Know the name? I imagine many of you do. For those who don’t, let me paint a quick picture.

The date was September 29, 1954. The Indians and Giants were facing off in game 1 of the Fall Classic. In the eighth inning, with the score tied 2-2, Cleveland’s Vic Wertz launched a ball into the cavernous expanse of center field at the Polo Grounds. New York’s immensely talented outfielder, Willie Mays, gave chase and miraculously caught the fly ball before it dropped for extra bases.

“The Catch” endures to this very day as one of baseball’s most recognizable plays. Even the most casual fan has seen replays of this clip and remembers it well. Mays racing towards the wall, tracking down the baseball, pounding a fist into his glove, and making an over-the-shoulder catch. The man whose bat launched this deep fly ball has also been remembered by the majority of fans of that era.

But what about the pitcher? Far fewer people know his name. As you may have guessed, it’s Don Liddle.

I first discovered this name back in 1994. That year was notable, of course, because of the baseball strike. However, something equally significant happened for me back then. Perhaps because the sport was on hold, I began to look back and discover the history of the game. This journey of discovery was aided greatly by the release of “Baseball: A Film by Ken Burns.” Of the many memorable scenes which appeared in that series was a clip of Bob Costas discussing “The Catch.” He mentioned that Liddle had been brought into the game to face one hitter. After Mays’ spectacular play, Liddle’s deadpan remark was, “Well, I got my guy.”

Now, to me, that’s funny. I can appreciate dry humor.

In this 1956 Topps offering, card number 325, Donald Eugene Liddle exhibits a bit of that humorous streak. His lips are curled into an ever-so-slight smile, his head is cocked slightly to the side, and his eyes reveal practically nothing. Liddle looks like he’s up to something; I can imagine his gears turning beneath that classic New York Giants cap. Perhaps the cameraman made a remark about Liddle’s ears (they’re hard not to notice) and Don was planning his revenge.

To the left of Liddle’s portrait is an action shot. The southpaw is delivering (or simulating the delivery of) a pitched ball. His left arm, at the tail end of its follow-through, seems ready to jump off the edge of the card. Interestingly, the lower half of that arm almost seems a shade too long. Trick of perspective or just my perception; I can't tell which. Anyway, Liddle's other arm and glove are tucked tightly against his slender body. Perhaps this is to make room for the pitching arm whipping around his torso like a slingshot. In the background, there is an empty but beautiful expanse of green. The grass, the stands, even the wall visible in the distance are all drenched with an emerald hue. There’s a stillness to the scene, a calm and peaceful backdrop contrasting Liddle in motion.

When flipping the card over, I am greeted by the usual array of words and numbers. Liddle seemed to be on the right track, having won more games than he lost, including the World Series clincher in 1954. Poring over these numbers, I take notice to yet another incorrect birthday. This seems to be fairly common with 1956 Topps. Despite the card's biographical information, Liddle was born in 1925. May 25th, as a matter of fact. He’ll be 96 years old next week. Treasure these ballplayers from the game’s bygone eras. Let us not take them for granted. Their numbers are ever shrinking.

So, I spent some time looking at a baseball card today…a long, detailed look. What I found was a reminder of a few passions burning brightly within me: a willingness and desire to be part of the Net54 community; the enjoyment I derive from collecting this set; and the life-long love I have for this game.

Baseball truly is a glorious thing.

Eric....awesome thread and thanks for taking the time...I initially missed this and it was fun to read through from start to today. LOVED IT. My favorite thing to do is take a set and a beer and just wiki all the players no one talks about and learn their history as I thumb through the pages. This is another level. I am currently knee deep into the 1956 set myself, so very timely for me as well.

Thanks again, keep em coming! For years I have avoided this set as a 55 copy cat (55's being a favorite) and am now truly finding an appreciation for some wonderful cards...