I do not remember when or where I acquired this card. All I know is that when it came into my possession, the pinhole on the north end was already there. Since it was clearly not in mint condition and there was no way of ever salvaging it, I decided to re-use the pinhole and pin it to my bedroom wall when I was a late teen. My father came into my bedroom one day, saw it tacked to my wall, and expressed something very close to disgust in seeing that I was desecrating a vintage card of a Hall of Fame player. I argued that the pinhole was already there, and I may as well have some fun displaying a card of one of my athletic idols, much like he probably did when he was a boy, back when Baseball cards were all but relatively worthless. “At least put it in a sleeve,” he said, but I declined, and he shook his head.
You see, my father takes Baseball cards very seriously, and this, to him, was a violation of the highest order. It is rare when he expresses grave disappointment in me, like when I took his car for a joyride when I was 15, or when I overdrew my bank account by a couple hundred dollars and needed him to bail me out. But this account, judging by the tone in his voice, was just as severe as either of those incidents. This card is scuffed and creased and faded, but I love it anyway, and it’s still tacked to my shelf despite my being 32 years old.
The back of this card tells us, “Roger Conner hit the 1st grand slam in National League history, Sept 10, 1881.” I have no idea who Roger Conner is but good for him.