I’m going to go ahead and file this one in my ‘utopia’ folder, because while I would love to live in a world where baseball cards and rap lyrics are allowed to mingle freely without fear of prosecution, I realize that it’s just not a practical idea. With that said, I salute you, 1999 Skybox Thunder, for refusing to let anything get in the way of your vision, for laughing at tradition, for daring to include not just stats or ‘fun facts’ on the back of your baseball cards, but also carefully crafted player-specific rap lyrics. They aimed for the moon and missed, but, contrary to what the poster said in my middle-school gymnasium, they did not land among the stars, mostly because the raps just flat out suck. You can read a much more thorough account from a superior writer here, or you can bear with me for like thirty more seconds.
There are over three hundred of these cards, and while I’m sure that each one is literally the best thing ever, I’m only going to give you one for the road: #H8, a special Mark McGwire ‘Hip-No-Tized’ Insert, which can be had for only six American dollars.
Here it is written out, so you don’t have to strain your pretty little eyes (because it’s all for you reader): Popeye… King of Swing… Big Mac… Does it really matter what we call you? It’s all good, ’cause we think you’re the greatest home run hitter of all time. More dingers per at-bat than anyone in history. Even The Babe can’t touch that stat. True that. True that.
I can’t knock the ‘hustle’, but I absolutely can knock the rhyme scheme. C’mon homies, that’s a soft verse.