#CardCorner: 1972 Topps Dave Cash

So where did it all begin, this strange and consuming obsession with baseball cards? I suppose every collector has a story of origin. For me, it unquestionably began during the spring of 1972. I lived on the border of Yonkers and Bronxville, NY. (The latter town was the home of Hall of Famer Ford Frick, but he never invited us over for dinner). It took about 15 minutes to walk from my house into the village of Bronxville, a small town of about 6,000 residents. On a sunny Saturday morning, I made that trek, with the expressed purpose of stopping at Gillard’s Stationery Store, which was located right on the main drag in the village.

As you entered the village, Gillard’s was just about the first store that you would hit. It was an old-fashioned stationary store that sold newspapers, greeting cards, monster magazines, and yes, baseball cards. On this trip into Gillard’s, carrying my own money, I was interested in purchasing the latter item. It was at Gillard’s that I purchased my first pack of cards. I remember distinctly the top card in the pack: It was a 1972 Dave Cash, No. 125 in the set. Since the Cash card happened to be on top, and was therefore the first card that I saw, I have dubbed it the first card in my collection.

There were a few other notable cards in that pack, like the final Topps card for Jim “Mudcat” Grant (who would later become a frequent visitor to Cooperstown), but the Cash card was the one that stood out above the rest. On its surface, the card is relatively simple. It’s a classic posed batting shot, with Cash set against the blue sky background, complete with the Spring Training light towers off the upper right-hand corner of the frame. With serious intent evident on his face, Cash is gripping the bat for the Topps photographer. Cash looks so serious that it seems like he’s almost a little annoyed, which I figured could be attributable to the difficult and important business of trying to hit a baseball. In the back of my mind, I wondered whether Cash was somewhat of an unpleasant guy, someone not be trifled with, either by opposing pitchers or baseball card photographers. As impressionable youngsters, it’s rather remarkable to consider what goes through our minds.

From the standpoint of baseball, the ’72 Cash was a good card to have. After all, he was the starting second baseman for the defending World Champion Pittsburgh Pirates, a team that I liked, but also the team that had stunned just about every veteran observer of the game by upsetting the Baltimore Orioles in a tremendously entertaining World Series the previous fall.

By 1971, Cash had succeeded Mazeroski. To his credit, Maz did his best to help Cash, giving him advice about handling the position and turning the double play. Helped greatly by the man whose job he was taking, Cash began to blossom. Hitting from gap to gap, he batted a solid .289 as the Pirates’ primary second baseman in 1971, while also filling in at third base and shortstop. At the plate, he collected more walks than strikeouts; in the field, he showed range and athleticism. Though overshadowed by great teammates like Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell, Cash played his role in helping the Bucs win their first title since 1960.

The free-swinging Cash continued to hit and field well over the next two seasons, but his commitment to the Army reserves clearly affected his development. Because of his military duty, which usually fell on several weekends each summer, Cash had to miss significant stretches of playing time. One time Cash missed 15 consecutive days.

The Pirates also had a glut of young second baseman, with Rennie Stennett already on board and a youthful Willie Randolph in the pipeline. So after the 1973 season, the Pirates deemed Cash expendable, sending him to the Philadelphia Phillies for left-hander Ken Brett.

While Cash had played well for Pittsburgh, he flourished in Philadelphia. Durable and dependable, he missed only two games over the next three seasons, hit better than .300 twice, and made three consecutive All-Star teams. With Cash and Larry Bowa solidifying the middle infield, the Phillies won three straight National League East titles. In terms of intangibles, Cash provided leadership and counsel to his teammates, helping to calm down the mercurial Bowa and encouraging a young Mike Schmidt at third base.

At 32, Cash’s playing career was over. For the next eight years, he went on to work outside of baseball, first for an investment firm and then as a car salesman in Pittsburgh. In 1987, while putting in some time as an instructor at a Phillies fantasy camp in Clearwater, Fla., Cash realized how much he missed the game. He contacted the Phillies, who offered him a job as infield coach for their Class-A affiliate in Batavia, N.Y. Given his intelligence and his reputation for leadership, a job in coaching made perfect sense.

Within three years, Cash earned a promotion, becoming the manager of the NY-Penn League team. Cash then worked for several years as the first base coach at Scranton-Wilkes Barre, Philadelphia’s Triple-A affiliate. In 1996, Cash earned a promotion to the Phillies’ major league coaching staff, but later lost his job when Terry Francona was named manager. Cash then returned to coaching with the Orioles’ organization, both at the major league and minor league levels. His last coaching stint came with an independent minor league team in the Golden Baseball League. After the 2010 season, he retired to his home in Florida.

Little did I realize at the time I collected his 1972 Topps card, but I would develop two common bonds with Cash. Fifteen years later after my trip to Gillard’s, during the spring of 1987, I would begin my first job. I was working as a sportscaster for WIBX Radio in Utica - the same upstate town where Cash had spent his formative years in the 1950s and ’60s. There was no way I could have known that I would end up working in that small city in central New York. Heck, I was only seven years old and hadn’t even heard of Utica in 1972.

Though he had a fine career, Dave Cash will never make the Hall of Fame as a player, and sadly, never did fulfill the dream of becoming a big league manager. Yet, he forged a lasting career for which he should be most proud, playing for the world champion Pirates in 1971, becoming an integral cog to some very good Phillies teams in the mid-1970s, and eventually achieving success as a minor league manager and coach.

On a personal level, Cash will always be an important name. For this collector of baseball cards, Dave Cash will always be the No. 1 card, the one who started it all.

Bruce Markusen is the manager of digital and outreach learning at the National Baseball Hall of Fame