One night, I was reading “The Wax Pack” (it’s a fine enough book but the best book dealing with baseball cards is Cardboard Gods) when my son got out of his bath. Usually, I just push my book to the side and start playing, but this night, he insisted that I read my book to him. After reading a few pages and editing out a few choice words in my rendition, he finally turned to me and asked, “Dad, can I have a baseball card?”
And in fact, he could. Although my cards are no longer prominently displayed, I have held onto a good chunk of them, the largest portion being in a white card box that I long ago lost the top for. Being out in the garage, I keep them safe by wrapping a garbage bag around the box, like all great card collectors do. My son doesn’t have a ton of patience, so instead of finding the perfect card, I reached into the box and pulled a completely random 1987 Donruss, Jim Presley, Diamond Kings, card.
I was surprised that I didn’t remember Jim Presley. To get a Diamond Kings card meant that you were pretty damn good, but I remembered nothing about this man. I mean, to be fair, I turned three late in the 1987 season so it would have been tough for him to make a lasting impact on my life at that time.
Presley was a fourth round pick by the Mariners in 1979, and it took him 5 years in the minors to finally break through halfway through 1984. It turns out that he had two really good years for the Mariners in his first two full seasons (1985 and 1986) where he hit 28 and 27 home runs, respectively and even became an All Star and finished 21st in MVP voting in 1986 since he had the flashy stat of 107 RBI, good for eighth best in the American League.
By 1987, he lost half his value to the team according to WAR, and due to recurring injuries, was never even replacement level from 1988 through the end of his career in 1991. He was traded to the Atlanta Braves in 1990 and ended his career with the San Diego Padres when he played just 20 games and could only muster a .136 batting average. He was only 29 years old when his major league career ended. But that’s not where his baseball story ends.
Instead, Presley followed up his playing days with a career in coaching, landing four major league hitting coach jobs over a 20-year span and teaching young hitters what he was able to display during his short run of healthy and productive hitting in the major leagues.
Everything went to shit for Presley’s playing career, but he still hung on and managed to make a 30-year career out of professional baseball. His injuries didn’t define him; they just changed his journey.
When it comes to Dadding, I’m basically in my prime. I have all the physical tools necessary to excel in everything he wants. We run, we climb, we wrestle, and, not to brag, but I am definitely worth at least a few DAR (Dads Above Replacement). Do I deserve a Diamond Dads card? I think so, but the people at Donruss have not reached out to me as of yet, and I have to respect their decision.
Much like Presley, I know an injury could derail my Dadding potential. Maybe that’s the lesson here, as I approach 38-years-old later this summer. I’m still in good shape, but I’m not a spring chicken, and it wouldn’t be too shocking if my body started to betray me. But also like Presley, I know that even when I’m past my prime, I can find other ways to be valuable. Almost all of my Dad Value is based in my physical capabilities, but as time goes on, I can hopefully transition to use my mental acuity to teach him about the finer points in the game of life.
But I’m still really counting on my physical potency to last more than three years as I don’t have nearly enough wisdom to start relying on it this early in my son’s life.