Probably bought my last pack of cards when I was 13 back in 1981. But the countless shoe boxes of cards I collected between 1975 and 1981 remain in my old room at my parent's house, and I know my nephew loves to swing by with his friends and plow through the cards. I've told them they can take whatever they want, but I still receive phone calls from my mom in which she insists on reading off the names of the players on the cards they've just selected, to make sure it okay:
Mom: "Hi Dude*, Lou picked out a few cards today. I'll just read them off to y..."
Me: "Mom, whatever he takes is fine."
Mom: "Well, I just want to make sure that..."
Me: "Mom, trust me, it's fine."
Mom: "Tim Wallach, Dale Murphy, Marc Hill, Manny San...um..."
Me: "Sanguillen. Mom, just let him have them." (Raising my voice) "Lou! Can you hear me, Lou? Take the cards."
Mom: "Jack Clark, Ron Cey, Steve Garvey....Isn't he the one that had all those children with all those different women? Mickey Rivers, Ed Goodson..."
I've received that phone call 10 times, minimum.
* yes, mom calls me "dude." It's a California thing.
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