I can’t accurately capture how big the 1989 Fleer Billy Ripken error card was to me and my crew, nor how much it shook our admittedly small adolescent world, some 28 years ago. Error cards were always a big deal – easter eggs of hidden hilarity that lent an extra sense of urgency to the opening of each waxpack, and provided dealers with more fodder than simply rookie and superstar cards – but this was an error card that was also a prank that also featured profanity. Not to mention several attempts of varying degrees of success to ‘fix’ the error. I wish I could recover half the money I spent as a 12 year old on packs of 89 Fleer, trying desperately to land this holy grail.

Fast forward to last year and a birthday present from my sister, which combined two of my favorite things: cocktails and baseball card-related nostalgia. The famous phrase hand-etched into the bottom of cocktail glasses and available for sale from the genius dudes at Near Mint.

Just brilliant, and perfectly my sister – someone who knows me perhaps better than anyone in this world, has paid a deeper level of attention to me over the course of my life (as we are wont to do with our siblings, particularly older ones) than I think even I may have realized, and gives about the most thoughtful gifts of anyone I know.
Unfortunately they were limited to 36 total pieces, 6 of which I own. So if you want one, you’ll have to join me for some #carding. You supply the Fleer, I’ll supply the beer.