Last winter I wrote a guest piece for Baseball Prospectus about a concept I call “metafandom.” In the intro, I described one of my most prized possessions: a poster I’ve had since I was a kid -- and which is framed and hanging on the wall 10 feet from where I sit as a write this -- with the cover of all of the World Series programs from 1903 through 1981.
It was a free giveaway from the Lipton Tea Company in 1982. I got mine -- and about 10 extra copies of it people left laying around and which my brother and I snagged -- at Tiger Stadium sometime in the first half of the 1982 season. It’s a gorgeous poster, reproducing what were, for the most part, the gorgeous covers of those Series programs.
And they were not just gorgeous. They were influential on me. I used them to memorize all of the World Series participants. And, in some small ways, to learn a bit about popular art styles of the 20th Century. I mean, is this cool or what?
Over at the New York Times there’s a great story about the World Series programs, and a slide show with closeup versions and stuff. It’s great fun and, for me at least, it gives life to something that has always been important to me. The only sad part? This passage which explains why the covers got so blah starting in 1974:
I get why they did this -- the programs are big sellers now and they want them ready more than two days in advance -- but they became so generic after that. A picture of the World Series trophy, maybe. Some illustration of a non-identifiable player in a plain uniform throwing a pitch to no one. Lots of AL and NL logos. They all look like the cover of baseball video games too cheap to enter into a merchandising agreement with the league and the union.
But I still have my poster and 1903-1973, and that’s pretty cool.