Dealing with cards

I used to have an awesome sports card collection.

Really, that's not news. I'm a man of the male gender in his mid-40s, so it was required by law. But, I had a big collection. Thousands of cards. I had cards in my bedroom. I had them in my living room. I had football cards, baseball cards, hockey cards, wrestling cards. I had cards of people who collected cards.

You have to understand, it's not like cards today, where they're all high-quality cards that have shiny gloss on both sides and can be used as hockey coasters, or lock picks, or portable calculators. They didn't feature only rookies and guys who have been suspended at least three times. They didn't cost $375 for a pack of three cards.

No, these cards came about 15 per pack for around 50 cents. There were so many in a set that many cards featured backups who rarely took the field.

His only football card, and he's holding a clipboard.

They also included a stick of bubble gum, because logic. The gum never tasted stale, even if the pack was over a year old. Probably because there were more preservatives packed into one stick than there are in at least 30 boxes of McNuggets.

I put this theory to a very serious test once. I once bought a pack of cards that was over 30 years old. Inside was the traditional piece of bubble gum. Of course, being a guy of the male gender (this should by now be well established) I ate the gum.

It didn't chew. It crumbled. It literally crumbled into tiny pieces in my mouth. But it still tasted like bubble gum.

And, in doing so, I inadvertently invented Candy Crush

I always wish I hadn't sold my collection. I had some prime pieces -- rookie cards of Roger Staubach, Joe Montana, Lawrence Taylor, Jerry Rice, Randy Dean -- as well as some complete United States Football League and World League of American Football sets. Don't laugh -- they fetch thousands.*

Fortunately, I was able to acquire a son. He came into the world in the usual way.** He has picked up my love for cards, and I get him packs every chance I get. Like me, he'll collect anything but prefers football. Every time he gets a pack and opens one, I ask him, "Son***, can I have the gum?"

And every time he says, "Dad, there's no gum."

And I say, "Can I chew a card then?"

And he laughs. And I laugh. And Randy Dean laughs.

FEEL THE BERN (LIMITED EDITION)

I don't get political on this page -- unless it's related to sports. Then all bets are off.

I watched some live TV with my kids Wednesday, because something of some importance was going on in Washington, D.C., and I thought it was a great chance to expose my kids to a little history lesson. Especially since two weeks ago, when I told my kids that people protest to tell the government they aren't happy with something and they want to make our country better, then I turn on the news and see some guy wearing viking horns and a Chewbacca bikini.

I expected something dignified that my kids can learn from. Of course, it's my family, so the only thing they took away from the day was Bernie Sanders and his mittens.

The internet, of course, did the same thing, proving the internet is the greatest invention in the history of words.

Wait, I said it was related to sports. Hmmm... oh yeah. Sorry, got sidetracked.

Topps has decided to jump on the Bern Train with a limited edition card, because of course they did.

Still more dignified than Bill Ripken's rookie card

It's only available for a few more days as of this writing, so get on the internet machine and order yours now. Gum not included.

Follow me on Twitter @WildLegend for tips on how to get gum out of your mittens.

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*--Seriously. The first set of USFL cards (from 1984) are going for about $1,500. Pretty sad that the league itself didn't have enough money to buy its own cards.

**--Your earworm of the day.

Second generation: DEFINITELY not better

The Worldwide Leader in Sports is watching its best people walk out the door.

I recently watched the Fiesta Bowl on ESPN (On a side note -- and this is a personal record for the earliest side note in my 21-year career as a writer -- did anyone really get into the bowl games this year? The regular season dragged on really late, then the first bowl game kicked off, like, 15 minutes later. About a third of the bowl games were canceled, and I didn't even notice.*)

Anyway, it was the much-anticipated matchup between Iowa State and Oregon, a matchup I personally had been dreaming about since about 30 minutes after it began because I forgot it was on. I didn't watch it for the matchup, believe it or not. I watched because it was the final broadcast for Mike Golic.

Golic has always been one of my favorites in the booth. Never the smartest cookie in the jar, but always the most enthusiastic, and he is one of the best in terms of applying his on-the-field experience to his broadcasts.

Even on his way out, Golic was Golic.

Twenty years at ESPN and he can't afford a fork.

Golic joins Tom Rinaldi, Dan Le Batard (no loss there), Ivan Maisel, award-winner Claire Smith, and Keith Olbermann** as talented on-air and writing talent that's no longer employed in Bristol.

Golic and Mike Greenburg hosted their Mike & Mike In The Morning show for nearly 18 years, and I used to eat it up. The practical and nerdy Greeny contrasted with the boisterous, jocky Golic. When Greeny was moved out and Trey Wingo came in, it just didn't mesh. ESPN knew this and canceled the show soon after. Now, they have other hosts whom I would know if I did any research.

Well, I know one of them: Mike Golic, Junior.

Mike Golic Junior is everything Mike Golic Senior is, except funny, and talented. Mike Golic Junior has the same voice as his dad, and he can be every bit as annoying -- but, unlike Senior, not in a good way. Mike Golic Junior doesn't belong on my radio. He belongs somewhere cutting deer meat and wild boar hocks for guys who wear too much camouflage.

Mike Golic Junior isn't the only example of the latest TV sports trend, Let's-Throw-A-Famous-Person's-Son-On-TV-I'm-Sure-It-Will-Work. NBC is doing it right now with Jac Collinsworth.

Try not to smack your screen.

Jac Collinsworth occasionally hosts NBC's pre- and post-game NFL stuff (I say occasionally, because I can't quite figure out the pattern) and their weekend studio stuff when NBC is showing something uninteresting. His dad, of course, is Cris Collinsworth, who I can't decide is either one of the best announcers in football or is the reincarnation of Pitch from the El Santa Claus movie.

In terms of pure non-talent, however, he doesn't hold a candle to Jac.

Jac Collinsworth is a perfect example of giving a kid everything because he has a famous father: He went to Highlands High Scholl in Fort Collins, Kentucky -- one of the wealthiest and most exclusive schools in the country and which just so happens to be 95% white. He then went on to Notre Dame, where he was immediately given the keys to the television and film department. He started on-air at NBC while still a freshman. I'm sure Big Daddy Cris had absolutely nothing to do with this.

Want another one? NBC had to replace Mike Emrick, one of the best voices in NHL history. (I grew up with Gary Thorne, but I still respect the heck out of Emrick.) They named Kenny Albert his replacement. Now, to be fair, Kenny Albert -- while not quite at the level of his father Marv -- is more than decent at play-by-play. However, I object to this hire, simply because Kenny Albert has no discernable neck.

There are a bunch of other examples of guys who rode their daddy's coattails to get to the top, without any real talent whatsoever. Personally, I can't think of any who could truly end this column on a definitive note.

I'm sure someone will come to mind.

Follow me on Twitter @WildLegend before I hand the account over to my son.

*--I digress.

**--Did you know Keith Olbermann still worked for ESPN as recently as October? Did you know Keith Olbermann doesn't really exist? He's a hologram.

One word: Caillou

With all the news coming out of Washington, there's a lot of reason to feel sad, angry, you name it. But, there was one piece of news that got buried. It's news that is exeedingly rare in today's world. It's news that should, in fact, draw us all into celebration.

PBS did it. Finally. They canceled Caillou.

For those of you who don't know who Caillou is -- and if that's the case then I can only assume you are either 1) not a parent or 2) incredibly luckier than me -- Caillou is the titular character of a cartoon that lasted, as far as anyone can tell, since the Renaissance.

Just a reminder of who the brat in question is.

Caillou is, to put it simply, a four-year-old brat. No, he's more than that. He's a whiny four-year-old brat. No, even more: he's the deepest terror in your darkest drunken nightmares. Listening to him talk is about as fun as getting brain freeze from eating scoops of ground beef flavored ice cream.

Caillou whines when he doesn't get his way. He whines when he does get his way. He whines at his baby sister. He whines at his mom. He whines at his cat. He lives in a world where everyone wears clothes that are strictly pastel. The walls in his house don't join, they just sort of end. Half of the time, there is no background at all. The show is narrated by Caillou's grandmother for some reason, who happens to sound just like Mrs. Butterworth.

Caillou has no hair. I would explain why, but I think urbandictionary.com does a better job than I ever can:

"The most famous urban legend about Caillou states that he is bald because he has cancer. However, that is not true. Caillou is bald, not because he has cancer or progeria, but because he sucks. Even his own body recognizes that he doesn't deserve hair, or food, or love."

Eat it, Bald Boy!

PBS must have realized that this would be a big announcement. The network put up a video showing how parents can break the bad news to their kids. I would suggest explaining it to them while watching one of the many episodes all-too-available on streaming channels literally everywhere. Then, when the kids begin jumping up and down and squealing with joy, dump a bowl of ground beef flavored ice cream on their heads.

ALERT! ALERT! ALERT! Earlier today I heard what might just be the two biggest lies of all time, both were told within hours of each other. I need your help to decide just which whopper was bigger:

Lie the First -- The guy who was photographed lounging in Nancy Pelosi's office was seen leaving the room with an envelope. He claimed in an interview that, after he propped his legs on her desk, he noticed one leg was bleeding. He said some of the blood got on the envelope on her desk, so he removed it for her. But, he said, he left a quarter on her desk because, and this is an exact quote, "I'm no thief."

Lie the Second -- Bill Hancock, director of the College Football Playoff, admitted that the Committee is looking into expanding the playoffs from four teams to eight. He said there are no plans to make any changes right away, but they are always looking to the future. And (here it is) if they do expand, "it will not be because of money."

Leave your vote in the comments. Best comment gets something cool from me. If I can find a way to send ice cream through the mail.

Random Thoughts: 2021 Predictions, New Division Names, Goldberg

We welcome the new year, we ring out the old year, blah blah blah.

I hope everyone's new year has been better than any and all of 2020 so far. I want to start with a few predictions for the new year. Keep in mind, my predictions aren't what I think will happen -- they're what I hope will happen.

January: Hours before their first playoff game in 18 years, the Cleveland Browns announce that they have to take the field without their head coach, who has Covid-19. Urban Meyer accepts $12 million to coach the team for one game.

February: The Cleveland Browns manage to reach the Super Bowl, doing the most Cleveland Browns thing possible by finally reaching the Super Bowl in a year when no fans are allowed.

March: Johnny Manziel plays his first game with the Fan Controlled Football league. He gets suspicious when a bunch of logged-in Browns fans keep calling quarterback sneaks.

Ha ha!

April: Tim Tebow becomes the latest athlete to play in both the NFL and Major League Baseball. He immediately retires from baseball and announces he will participate in the Kentucky Derby. Tebow will be ridden by jockey Tyler Gaffalione.

May: The Brooklyn Nets sign free agent fan Spike Lee.

June: Inspired by NASCAR's virtual races and the Madden 21 Pro Bowl, the XFL announces it will play its entire season on Tecmo Bowl.

July: The 2020 Summer Olympics begin a year late. The Olympic Committee will certainly have to make this up by buying us flowers and a box of chocolates.

August: Mike Tyson and Roy Jones Jr. fight their rematch. The judges declare another draw after both fighters stop the fight early to take a nap.

September: The NFL season begins. Fans are finally allowed to fill the stadium. Except for the L.A. Chargers, because they have no fans.

October: The San Diego Padres finally return to the World Series. Blake Snell digs into the mound with his cleats and grabs the pitching rubber for dear life every time the manager steps out of the dugout.

Oh Lord, not again.

November: During their annual Thanksgiving game broadcast, Joe Buck is called back to his home planet.

December: Johnny Manziel and Mike Tyson compete in the Preakness. Spike Lee signs with the San Diego Padres. Joe Buck returns to Earth with flowers. The Chargers become the first team to fail to sell out the Super Bowl.

URBAN MEYER TO THE JAGS? The rumor mill here in the good ol' O-H-I-O is that former Ohio State legend Urban Meyer wants $12 million to coach the Jaguars. If this happens, Trevor Lawrence still be the #1 pick, or will it be the guy Meyer recruited to OSU, Justin Fields? If so, I suddenly like the Jags' chances they'll be picking #1 next year too.

WHO'S NEXT? Goldberg returned to the Legends episode of Raw on Monday and challenged Drew McIntyre for the WWE title at their next pay-per-view. First of all, who still gets pay-per-views? Isn't anyone who is even remotely interested in wrestling already subscribing to the WWE network? They get all PPVs for free. Who the heck's paying for these PPVs?

Second, they reportedly lined up this match because they had no opponent ready for McIntyre. So that's their solution: grab a "legend" and throw him into the main event. Imagine if other sports did this? Usain Bolt lines up for the 100-meter world championship and striding up next to him is... Carl Lewis!

NHL SELLS NAMING RIGHTS TO DIVISIONS: Scotia, Honda, Discover and MassMutual are the names of the made-up divisions for the 2021 season. The NHL refuses to say if this is a one-time deal. Imagine what next year might be like: the Depends Division, the Viagra Division (the biggest rise in the standings, natch!), the Dr. Scholl's Odor Eaters Division, and the Preparation-H Division.

Follow me on Twitter @WildLegend and help me collect enough money to bid on a division name.

What's the deal with Ohio State quarterbacks?

Welcome to the club, Dwayne Haskins.

You're the newest member of one of the least exclusive clubs in football: the Failed Ohio State Quarterback Club.

Haskins is gone from the Washington Football Team. His agent left him. I wouldn't be shocked if his dog ran away.

I could go into his lack of maturity. I could talk about how he should have been focusing on his job and saved his partying for after the season. I could mention he was benched for Taylor Heinicke, whose last QB stint was as an XFL backup.

Heineke's lone football card shot up from 25 cents to $17.50, so at least he did something nice.

Don't worry. I will go into all those things later.

But first, let's delve into Haskins' alma mater. I wanted to know why Ohio State football, the high and mighty institution that has single-handedly changed school protocol, conference rules, and crowd safety guidelines -- all in the past three months -- can't produce a winning NFL quarterback.

Going through NFL record books, the most successful Buckeye quarterback by far has been Mike Tomczak. He was an undrafted free agent who joined the Chicago Bears in 1985 and is, to my knowledge, the only rookie QB in history to take a snap in a Super Bowl. He started 73 games in the NFL, going 42-31 with a career completion percentage of 53.8, and a passer rating of 68.9.

Hey, both were better than Haskins on Sunday.

It gets worse. Only two other QBs have started at least 10 games: Kent Graham, who went 17-21 with the Giants, Cardinals, and Steelers; and Tom Tupa, who went 4-9 but is much better known as the first player to score a two-point conversion in NFL history.*

So many others -- Troy Smith, Terrelle Pryor, Joe Germaine, Bobby Hoying, Art Schlichter, Cardale Jones -- were great as Buckeyes. Then they were drafted.

You can make an excuse that Ohio State is not a high-scoring machine, historically. Coaches like Woody Hayes, Earle Bruce, Jim Tressel, and John Cooper were more interested in winning games than running up the score. Still, it's odd that a school that can produce countless great running backs (Eddie George, Tom Matte), wide receivers (Cris Carter, Paul Warfield) and offensive linemen (Orlando Pace, Jim Parker) can't produce even a good quarterback, let alone a HOFer.

Don't forget great Obsessed Fans and Jim Tressel Look-alikes

Haskins' release should come as a surprise to no one. The guy was dancing at a strip club relative's birthday party the night he led the WFT to an ugly loss to the Seattle Seahawks. I'm sure Haskins spent the whole following week promising Rivera that he would in fact take the next game very seriously, and to prove it, he offered his coach 20% off his next lap dance.** Haskins' long-awaited response against the Panthers was to complete half his passes and throw no touchdowns and two picks, before being benched for Heinicke, who is best known for owning over 900 car care centers around the country.

Maybe some NFL team will give him another chance. And maybe he can be as well-renowned as someone like Mike Tomczak. And maybe his dog will show up at his front door, wet and hungry but alive and well. We can all hope.

It's not like he dropped a championship trophy or anything.

Wait, that wasn't mayo?

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*--So what?

**--Just kidding. It was 10%.

Random Thoughts: Drummers, Wrestling, and Boba Fett

 An update on my health, before a few random thoughts:

The Covid is out of the house. None of us are the worse for wear. Mrs. Legend was tired for nearly two weeks, but finally has enough energy to resume picking up after her kids (re: our children and me.) As for me, it shot my blood pressure sky high, but I'm taking steps to manage it. Usually at this time of year, my BP isn't a problem at all, as the Cleveland Browns are usually out of the playoff picture.

So, yeah, we all got through it. But, if you haven't had it yet, trust me, you don't want it.

IN ALL THIS CLEVELAND [INSERT NAME HERE] NAME CHANGE, there's something no one has asked yet: After 2021, what happens to John Adams' drum?

If you are a fan of the Cleveland [insert nickname here], then you either know who John Adams is, or you've at least heard his drum. He sits in the outfield bleachers and beats his bass drum (named, I kid you not, Big Chief Boom-Boom) whenever the team is rallying. But, with the elimination of the nickname, there goes all the tradition.

Looks like he'll have to beat on Tom Hamilton's big head instead. Should make the same hollow noise, at least.

BTW, if you want comedy, go to the Google and search "Cleveland baseball drummer" and John Adams' name and description comes up, but with a photo of former U.S. President John Adams.

Clearly, 2020 has been a rough year for Mr. Adams.

OHIO HIGH SCHOOL WRESTLING IS NUTS. The Ohio High School Athletic Association has a list of protocols to follow for winter sports. Of course, wrestling, being a contact sport with lots of contact, needs protocols. So, here you go:

No shaking hands.

Yeah, that's it. You can grab your opponent. You can twist your legs around his torso. You can stick your head in his sweaty buttcrack. But, for the love of God, don't shake his hand after the bout, because you'll get the covid!

Dude. I didn't mean that literally.

SPEAKING OF WRESTLING, why are the WWE and AEW on my ESPN feed? It's pro wrestling. It's not a sport! The outcomes are predetermined, they flop around needlessly, and they say random, nonsense things. Same goes for the NBA.

BOBA FETT RETURNING TO STAR WARS. A new series debuting next year will follow the exploits of everyone's favorite wacky bounty hunter.

For the record, Boba Fett is a kid who watched his father get his head chopped off, was given a mission to find someone and fell backwards into finding him literally parked on the ship he just left, delivered a carbonite body to a slobby slug-like thing, failed to kill a Jedi even though he fired from point blank range, then couldn't control his jetpack and got eaten by a Sarlaac. So, in summary, he did absolutely nothing, has shown himself to have no skills at his job whatsoever, and is still one of the most celebrated heroes in the universe.

Kind of like Joe Buck.

GUY ROLLERBLADES I-670 IN COLUMBUS WEARING ONLY A PANDA MASK. You come up with a better way to celebrate the end of a two-week quarantine.

Christmas Movie Review #5: Cheering for the Cleveland [insert nickname here]

Buy that Cleveland Indians gear now. It'll all be collectors' items in a few years.

The Cleveland Baseball Club is the latest to move away from a potentially insensitive nickname and embrace the 21st century.

The team has been under fire for years -- and I mean years -- for the Indians nickname. There were protests going back as far as the 1940s. One group of Native Americans has been standing at the main gate for every series opener going back to the 1960s.

I suspect MLB had a hand in this. The league kind of forced its hand when it came to Chief Wahoo, leading the team to agree to not sell any merchandise with the logo, nor to wear the logo on its uniform again. Of course, they did use it that season at least twice. And, although it isn't on their team shop website, Chief Wahoo is still available through official retailers, some of which were manufactured "in 2020," according to the sites.

Chief Wahoo is bad, but Chief Wahoo + cigar = total innocence.

I could come out and talk about the nickname supposedly came from a former player with Native blood in him. I could talk about how, for decades, a majority of Native Americans would look at the name and shrug their shoulders and say, "Who cares?"

Instead, I'll just come out and say it: I personally have never had a problem with the nickname. It doesn't really show disrespect, although Chief Wahoo kind of pushed it a bit. But, it isn't up to me. It's up to the Native Americans who are "represented" by the nickname, and if they don't like it, then so be it.

My parents told me to buy as much Cleveland Indians merch I could get a hold of. They said it will be really valuable someday since they're going to stop making it.

This is the same couple who, in 1992, paid the $1.50 cover price for Superman #75, the "Death of Superman" comic, then paid tons more for a safety deposit box just for that one comic. 28 years later, that safety deposit box has cost them thousands, and that comic book is worth about $1.50.

Hear that? That's my inheritance blowing me kisses goodbye.

"But Dad, why did you name us Snap, Crackle and Pop?"

I digress. If the Cleveland Baseball Club wants to take advantage of this, they would change their name to the Cleveland Buckeyes. After all, that was the name of the Negro League team that played there through the 1940s (where Larry Doby got his start). And what Cincinnati Reds fan, in their right mind, would say out loud, "The Buckeyes suck"?

On a completely unrelated note: As I'm watching the Ravens/Browns game tonight, they keep referring to Baltimore's defensive coordinator as "Wink Martindale," even though his real first name is Don. At least they aren't referring to Baltimore's OC as "Chuck Woolery."

CHRISTMAS MOVIE REVIEW: RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER

This isn't a review of the TV special per se. There's really nothing wrong with this classic, except that it desperately needs to have the audio re-synched.

No, my problem with this show is that Santa Claus is a f***ing jerk.

When we first see him, he won't eat his wife's cooking. She takes this as an insult, because this film was made in 1964 and all women were good for back then were cooking and looking worried.

The very next scene shows Donner, one of the reindeer (yeah, I know, it's really Donder. Don't write to me.) and his wife, Mrs. Donner, celebrating the birth of their first son, Rudolph. Of course, Santa can't be bothered to give Donner Donner and Mrs. Donner their privacy; he just saunters in and announces his presence. As if he didn't make it clear enough who he is, he then sings a song about himself.

After his self-serving song, he proclaims Rudolph unfit to pull his sleigh because he's different. Yep, he's Santa the bigot.

Pretty sure this scene is in there somewhere, too. Probably in the Deluxe Edition.

When next we see the not-so-jolly-old-elf, he is listening to "elf practice". The elves sing a song that looks and sounds pretty complicated for a group of toy manufacturers. All Santa can say is, "Hmmm. Needs work." Then he leaves.

You know what? I'm not going on. I'm ticked off now. Screw your milk and cookies, fat man!