This lot is closed for bidding. Bidding ended on 4/15/2011
“As the players came from the clubhouse for practice, an uncouth figure that brought a titter from the stands shambled along behind them. His jersey shirt stretched across his missive body like a drumhead, and his arms dangled through its sleeves. He dragged himself across the field bashfully, every angle of his frame exaggerated and emphasized and the stands tittered again. The great (Cap) Anson saw (Cy) Young. "Is that the phenom?" he asked with a sneer... The gaunt figure lost its uncouthness as he warmed to his work, and the ball shot to the catcher's thin glove with a crack that betokend even greater speed then the flash of the sphere in the sunlight. The game began and the Chicago batters strode to the plate arrogant and confident. And one after the other, they threw down their bats and returned to the bench puzzled and baffled... Young grew even more effective as the innings passed, and Chicago left the field beaten and blind with rage. Then the crowd, which had laughed at the unique figure of the new pitcher, arose in a mass and gave him an ovation.”
Of the many baseball cards, collectibles and treasures offered prior to World War I, few are more revered than the legendary Turkey Red T3 premium cabinet set. Majestically illustrated and meticulously crafted, these oversized antiquities quicken the heart of every true fan of the game – for to witness the glorious color and imagery of the Turkey Red is to witness perfection. Costly for their time, Turkey Reds were the envy of their era, with many having survived the test of time, passed through families as heirlooms, allowing fathers and sons to share their passion for the game, by sharing stories of a time when baseball was young and heroes were larger than life.
The Record That Will Never Be Broken: 511 Wins.
This is no ordinary man portrayed upon this treasured portrait from a bygone era. This is the mighty Denton True Young, a man called “Cyclone”. Catchers once padded paper-thin mitts with thick juicy steaks just to protect their bones from the impact of this mighty righthander’s throws. Five times did Young win 30 or more games in a season. He tossed a masterful perfect game at the tender age of 37, the third and final no-hitter of his career. In six campaigns, the dominant hurler of his time held teams below two earned runs a game, with a microscopicly low earned run average of 1.26 in baseball’s greatest season, 1908, when he also posted 21 wins and commonly outdueled pitchers young enough to have been his sons.
This was no junkballer, spitballer, or fluff pitcher who spared his arm by lobbing floaters skyward toward hitters. This was a pitcher who adjusted speeds, launched perfectly pinpointed pitches baffling batsmen virtually at will and threw cannon-shot to the likes of Cobb and Crawford, Lajoie and Speaker, Anson and King Kelly, and yes, even Big Ed Delahanty. More often than not, the man on the mound won the battle. And with each win, his legend grew larger.
Unfortunately, as the legend grew larger, so too did the great Cyclone’s waistline, a physical feature that would become his undoing. As the great hurler grew older, his arm seemed never to tire, but his legs grew weary and slow. His burgeoning middle prevented him from fielding the bunts of the slap-hitters and batsmen of the day, who valued speed over power and proudly sprinted to first on tiny grounders the old man could no longer bend over to retrieve. So on a quiet day in October 1911, after defeating his opponents 511 times, the man who won more games than any pitcher before him or since, handed the ball to Manager Fred Tenney one final time and walked away from the game, as a tiny crowd of 250 Brooklyn fans witnessed his final pitch, his final moment and the end of an era.
Perfection Printed On Cardboard
Even at a VG/EX 4 words cannot adequately describe the image of Cy Young printed in turn of the century lithography on the thickly matted surface of this Turkey Red. The cabinet wears its age with dignity. Light rounding at the corners is evident, but not severe. Subtle shadows of stains along the upper edges conjures thoughts of photo corners which most likely held this prize in a scrapbook of baseball memories and tales. The cabinet’s surface exudes a crisp confidence, reminiscent of its subject. And the printer’s registration carries the pinpoint accuracy of a Cy Young pitch.
Every now in then, life provides us with a glimpse of perfection, even in cards that may not be graded as perfect. This is one of those moments.