The First Day of the Rest of My Life

First Love: Who was looking up at me in that shoebox?
This guy.

It was the summer of 1976.

I'd discovered sports cards the previous winter, buying my first packs—curiously for a kid who neither played nor watched the sport at the time—of 1975-76 Topps Hockey.

I had bought maybe 20 or 30 packs of 1976 Topps Baseball, and was busy memorizing every nook and cranny of those cards. Gary Carter slugging the camera with his bat, Mike Hegan and Steve Garvey stretching with those funny hockey gloves, Pete Rose wearing his special glasses, Joe Morgan with his baseball helmet redder than any cherry candy I'd tasted.

All of them, from Vic Albury to Rennie Stennett, from Bobby Valentine to Pat Kelly, from Thurman Munson to Reggie Jackson, were delicious. I was in love.

But that summer, I received a gift, as valuable and enriching to me as a full set of encyclopedias.

Not Necessarily the Box: This is the best facsimile I could find that simulated
my gift. Of course, there were no plastic card guards in those days.
But in quite a coincidence, note the 1975 Bench in the top right corner!

It was a shoebox from the older boy who lived across the street from me in the tiny burg of Highwood, Illinois. Joe Picchietti. He had reached an age where cards weren't important to him any more, so hundreds of cards, issues I'd never knew existed, were stacked inside.

And I remember it clearly to this day: The first card looking up at me was a 1975 Johnny Bench.

I only remember some 1975s from the box, although there had to be other years. My first basketball cards, the delightful 1974-75 and 1975-76 issues, were in there, too. Perhaps some 1975 Football.

Joe's younger sister was apparently upset that he had given his cards to me, as she was a collector, too. So with a strong arm from my father, I gave around half of the cards to her.

But I kept that Johnny Bench. It's not my favorite card of all time, but it's one I'll never forget.