I first learned of Tim Raines in the summer of ’83. . . .
My Father had just retired from his career in the military, and we moved to Central Florida so he could pursue a life as a civilian. I was just 13, but I already had a lot of experience being the new kid in town, so it was kind of “just another move” for me at the time. I had already been to 7 schools and was slated to go to my 8th school for 8th grade later this year. So yeah, I was getting good at this . . .
We moved to the Northwest side of Orlando, in a classic Florida cul-de-sac of 1970’s cinder block homes. Our street ran along The Little Wekiva River and our backyard backing up to the little tiny rapids. It was a fairly rural area with necessities being a long walk or a decent bike ride away. “Necessities” back then meant: Slurpees, Big League Chew, Beef Jerky, Cool Ranch Doritos, Mountain Dew, and perhaps a Pac-Man machine for the really hot days . . . So, to get your fix of your vices you had to plan your trip to the 7-11. The distance ranged from 2 miles by sidewalks/roads, or just a little over a mile as the crow flies (definitely NOT by roads).
As an adult I have always referred back to that period of time as “the last great era”. It was a time where we had a lot of the best of all worlds old and new. Sure, we had cable TV, but it was only 41 channels, so we still went outside and played. We also had video games, however, they were fairly simple and easily conquered, so we still went outside and played. We had recordable music, but it was in the form of cassette tapes, so we used a Walkman . . . and then went outside and played.
Sure the Walkman was the size of a toaster and the headphones were essentially earmuffs, but that’s how we liked it.
We also all had parents that would frequently blurt out “Go outside and play!”, so there was that too . . .
It was toward the end of the “come home when the street lights come on” times. You didn’t even have to explain anything to your parents about what you might have done that day, as long as you came home on time. Most of the time, it was a very fair don’t-ask don’t-tell arrangement that I was more than happy to uphold my end of the bargain on.
Because it was “the last great era”, that also meant that summers seemingly lasted forever. My plans for the long break were right in line with what a boy, who was about a year or two away from weird things happening to his body (it turned out to be 3 actually . . . late bloomer), would’ve and should’ve had. They were, in no particular order:
- Keep up with my training to be a cyclist in the ’84 Olympics (spoiler: I wouldn’t make it).
- Explore all of the orange groves around my neighborhood (none of which are still there), and find out how far I could safely float down the Little Wekiva River, and still get back before time expired (again, streetlights, don’t-ask don’t-tell).
- Watch as much MTV as I could, as I had been hearing a lot about it, but never had access to it until the move to Orlando (It really was Music Television!).
- Get serious about my fledgling baseball card collection . . .
The first three line items came naturally and frequently happened. Item number 4 became the project that would end up dominating that summer.
So, with my allowance, and the occasional mowing of the neighbors’ yards, I set out to do something I had been wanting to do for years, 3 years to be exact: Assemble a complete set of baseball cards. The previous summers, I had bought handfuls of cards here and there, and had them tightly rubber-banded by teams. I had bought cards sporadically, with the simple goal to get another Oriole player or two, memorize his stats, and file away to reference later. So when I was putting together my list of sky-high goals for the summer, I shot for the stars. . . I was going to get ALL of the players! It wound up being a fantastic challenge, one I will never forget.
That summer, there were three major brands of baseball cards. Two of them being Donruss and Fleer, which both entered the baseball card market in 1981. Donruss was new to the genre, and Fleer re-entered after a couple of decades out of the business.
Then there was Topps, which started in 1951, and they were the gold standard in trading cards. Since I had bought my first pack of Topps waaaaay back in 1980, I had a little bit of brand loyalty to them and decided that they were to be my first complete set. They also had the higher card count, 792 for a complete set, versus the 660 total from the new competitors.
To acquire a complete set of cards in those days you only had few avenues to venture down . . .
- Order a complete set from the factory, but that took a large up-front lump sum of money (at least for a 13 year old) and a lot of initiative. You had to go get a money order for the amount, mail it off to some foreign place called Syosset NY, then, spend the next 6 to 8 weeks harassing the Postal Carrier until it arrived. Also . . . boring!
- Purchase 15 cards at a time for 35 cents a pack, then start amassing the collection of 792 cards pack-by-pack, card-by-card. Keeping in mind, that once you purchased a couple handful of packs, you would begin accumulating “doubles”, or repeats of the same cards. So that brought on the need for option three . . .
- Get your friends around you to start collecting baseball cards so that you could trade with them.
I set out on an aggressive plan that combined both elements of options two and three. But first I had to make some friends, and show them just how cool it was to collect baseball cards. There certainly wasn’t a magical portal in your home back then, where you could search, shop, or swap with the world. Or in this case, look for baseball cards, buy baseball cards, and trade baseball cards . . . with anyone outside of the distance you could ride a bicycle, and still be home before the streetlights came on. You had to create your own marketplace, you had to make things happen.
The first friend I made was my neighbor directly across the street, Jason Pickerell. He had a smattering of a card collection from the previous summer, but really wasn’t interested in getting into it this particular summer. Remember, that was the summer of Return of the Jedi and many kids jumped pretty deep into that, him being one of them. We still hung out as he was such a nice kid, had a cool treehouse, lots of Star Wars toys, and his Mom was the closest thing to June Cleaver that we had on the block.
Jason then introduced me to Rick Andrews, who wound up being one of my all-time best friends in my lifetime, but first he was my ideal partner in that summers amassing of my complete set. Rick and I spent the summer days memorizing everything on MTV, listening to LP’s on the record player, playing with my extensive Lego collection, and gathering loose change . . . couch cushions actually did pay off, FYI. When we amassed enough coins, we made the trek to the 7-11 for a pack or two of Topps Baseball Cards. Sometimes we’d ride bikes, other times we shared my skateboard. When we wanted to ramp up the adventure quotient, we’d take the route along the Little Wekiva River which involved a balancing act on a pipe 12 feet above the “river” (it was really just a big creek), and then a trek through a rough apartment complex . . . the shortcut was about 5 minutes quicker each way, sometimes a necessary option as I quickly learned about Florida’s summer afternoon storms.
After 3 months of this, day-in and day-out, and with summer winding down, we both were close to finishing our entire 1983 Topps baseball sets. I found myself, finally, only needing ONE MORE CARD to complete my set. Not just any card though, but card #760 . . . Dale Murphy. For those of you in the know (I guess really for those of you
not in the know), Dale Murphy was at the peak of his career that summer. As one of the premier outfielders in the game, he also played for what was then the “local” team for this region, The Atlanta Braves (nobody would have a Marlin or a Devil Ray to root for until the next decade). Mr. Murphy was the reigning NL MVP that year and would go on to repeat the accolade for that season as well. He was also, simply, the most popular player amongst all baseball fans in the Southeast at the time. But we are not here to talk about him . . .
So, summer is coming to an end, and the baseball cards are no longer being re-stocked on the shelves. I suddenly find myself at risk of not completing my set, and beginning to feel the first symptoms of the OCD that would come to visit me later in life. At this point, I must have looked like Charlie Bucket opening a chocolate bar each time I purchased a pack of cards.
Then it happened . . .
Well, kind of . . .
It’s now Labor Day Weekend, and Ricks Father, Fred Andrews, took Rick and I to The Daytona Speedway for a race. We arrived too late for the good parking and had to park a few miles away. On our walk to the venue, we stopped in a 7-11 for a Big Gulp (necessities!). They still had a couple of packs of cards on the shelf and Rick and I both bought one. I opened mine quickly, scanning through in hopes of the elusive #760. Later in life I would feel a similar sensation to the one I felt in the 11 seconds it took to scan my cards, and it involved betting a whole bunch of money on a Roulette spin . . . that feeling of pressure and desperation and needing good luck to hit, come on, just this once! Unfortunately, Roulette odds are much, much more favorable. Rick, opened his pack, and with me peeking over his shoulder, went through them one-by-one. Of course, he took an eternity to scroll through the 15 cards, and of course, his pack would produce my sought after card (or this story would be going nowhere fast). With him already having one #760 in his collection, I had to begin the opening salvo of negotiations to pry that card from him. He gave me his trademark smirk, knowing that he had me over the barrel, and knowing that I knew that he knows, he had me over a barrel . . . for I was the one who created this whole side-card marketplace in the first place. I don’t remember exactly what I wound up giving him for it, I am sure it was a lot more than the card was worth. I am equally as sure it was in fact totally worth it, and equally sure that he probably could’ve held out for much, much more.
Fast forward to October 15th, and The Baltimore Orioles beat The Philadelphia Phillies 4-1 in The World Series. My new favorite player, in just his second full season, squeezed a line-drive for the last out of the series. He would go on to win the American League MVP that season, and then onto a nice little career. But we 
aren’t here to talk about Cal Ripken Jr . . . I celebrated as I watched my team celebrate on television (might have even snuck a Dad beer from the fridge, took a couple of sips, and then poured it out because it was gross). I didn’t go too crazy though, as The Orioles always had a top-notch organization and I had a lifetime of Baltimore World Series Championships ahead of me . . . and a lot more to learn about baseball, and life.
So, the Summer of ’83 was a huge success. But how does this tie into Tim Raines you wonder?
Well, living in the house across the street and to the left of The Pickerells’, were The Wenholds’. Brian Wenhold was a good friend of all of ours. He was a few years younger, was kinda small, and always had the neatest and newest gadgets in his house. It was at his house the first time I ever saw a laser-disc player, he was also the first kid on the block to have a computer in his room. That was also the first time I ever heard of a company called “Apple”. Now, because of all of the reasons cited above, I do believe we might have picked on him a little bit at times. I would just assume he was labeled a “geek” on occasion by us, as that is what we did in the 80’s. But, life is funny, and Brian gets to exact revenge on us with regularity. Through the magic of those computers (Facebook), I get to see that he grew up to be a highly-intelligent and good-looking guy who also has a beautiful family. The geek with the computers prevailed!
Now, Brians’ Father, Barry Wenhold, was a hard-working man who would come home every day, around 5pm, covered in paint. Sometimes, I would be playing in my yard across the street as he pulled into his driveway. Almost always, my football would be lying somewhere nearby as well. When all of these factors lined up just right, once or twice a week, I could get Barry to play catch with me for a few minutes. I’d try to make it as easy for him as possible, realizing the guy JUST got home from a long day at work and probably just wanted to take a shower. So I would try to hit him with an accurate spiral as he got out of his truck. Every subsequent throw of mine was aimed as to not cause him to have to run, or lunge, or perform any other action that could cause him to cut our little session short(er).
One day, Barry asked me if I was familiar with Tim Raines. I said that I was, as I had a handful of his baseball cards in my collection. He then told me about what a great football player Tim was in High School, Seminole High School in Sanford to be exact. If my memory serves correct, I believe Barry had coached football, or track and field, to some degree and had worked with Tim Raines along the way. I enjoyed my conversation with Mr. Wenhold and went on my way. Two things struck me from that conversation . . . One being that I thought it was cool that someone could be good at TWO sports, three counting track and field. And two, The Great Tim Raines, a player in the Major Leagues, was from a town near me?!?!
I also wondered, “Where is Sanford?” . . . but decided to take another few decades to discover that.
Tim Raines was born September 16th, 1959, in Sanford Florida to Ned and Florence Raines. For Seminole High, he was a standout in track and field, baseball, and football. He went on to be drafted by the Montreal Expos in the fifth round of the 1977 Major League Draft. He was a versatile player in the field and could make things happen on the base paths. In 1981, he set the MLB record for stolen bases by a rookie, and was second in the Rookie of the Year Voting, getting just edged out by a freak season from Fernando Valenzuela, and a strike-shortened season.
In a 23-year career, Raines played in 2,502 games accumulating 2,605 hits in 8,872 at bats for a .294 career batting 
average along with 170 home runs, 980 runs batted in, a .385 on-base percentage and a .425 slugging percentage. He ended his career with a .988 fielding percentage. Raines stole at least 70 bases in each of his first six full seasons (1981–1986), leading the National League in stolen bases each season from 1981 to 1984, with a career high of 90 steals in 1983. Raines also led the National League in runs scored twice (1983 and 1987). Raines batted over .300 in five full seasons and over .320 from 1985 to 1987, winning the 1986 National League batting title with a .334 average. He also had six full seasons with an on-base percentage above .390.*
With 808 steals in his career, Raines has the fourth-highest total in major league history, behind Rickey Henderson, Lou Brock and Ty Cobb. Until 2008, His career stolen base percentage (84.7%) was the highest in major league history for players with 300 or more attempts and he was successful on 40 consecutive steal attempts between July 1993 and August 1995, setting an American League record at the time (the record was broken by Ichiro Suzuki in May 2007, when he completed 45 consecutive steals).*
Among switch hitters, Raines ranks sixth in career hits (2,605), fourth in runs (1,571), walks (1,330) and times on base (3,977), fifth in plate appearances (10,359), seventh in singles (1,892), doubles (430), total bases (3,771) and at bats (8,872), eighth in triples (113) and tenth in extra base hits (713). He holds Expos/Washington Nationals franchise records for career runs (947), steals (635), singles (1,163), triples (82) and walks (793), and was the seventh player whose career began after 1945 to retire with over 1,500 runs and 100 triples. His 1,966 games in left field ranked seventh in major league history when he retired.*
Now, many of you may not have been aware of just how great his career was. There is a huge reason for that . . . Tim Raines would have been one of the most electrifying and most popular players in the game, in that era, if it hadn’t been for one reason, and that reason was Rickey Henderson.
Rickey Henderson entered the bigs in 1979, and by 1982, he had the MLB single season stolen base record. He went on to setting the standard for what a lead-off hitter should be and still holds many MLB records to this day (but we aren’t here to list Rickey Henderson’s achievements though). Both players were the best in their respective leagues for their position throughout the 80’s. Turns out, Rickey Henderson went on to be arguably the best MLB player of the 1980’s. Tim Raines would have been the premier lead-off batter and base-stealer of his generation, had his and Henderson’s careers not overlapped so damn closely. . .
The point being that, Tim Raines would be the Rickey Henderson of that era, if it weren’t for Rickey Henderson.
I share all of this with you now, fellow Sanfordites, because Tim Raines is in his last year of eligibility to be voted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 2017.
Five years after they retire, ballplayers with standout careers get a window of 10 years to be voted, by sportswriters, into the Hall of Fame. Of course, Rickey Henderson was voted in on his first year of eligibility back in 2009 with an overwhelming amount of support from the Sportswriters (but we’re not here to talk about that). Over the last nine years the writers have yet to vote in Tim Raines. The first couple of years of results weren’t looking too favorable for an eventual induction. But the last few years have shown a sizeable uptick in the sportswriters’ perception that perhaps Tim Raines did in fact have a Hall of Fame career.
This January is Raines’ last chance to be labeled a Hall of Famer, an honor that changes one’s life. He will no longer be “Tim Raines-standout ballplayer”, he will now be “Tim Raines-Hall of Famer”. And once a Hall of Famer, he will be a Hall of Famer for eternity.
So I, and hopefully a whole bunch of you, will be looking forward to the ballot count results on January 18th. That could be the day that someone born and raised in Sanford, Florida, gets a plaque hung on a wall in Cooperstown, New York. One of the greatest players, from “the last great era”, from our town, can reach the pinnacle of the baseball world. It could be a neat day for all of us. Somehow, it will help my fond memories of the summer of ’83 live on by being represented by him in the hallowed halls. Plus, I know Barry Wenhold will get a pretty good kick out of it, and that makes me smile . . .
I will also be leading the charge for a Tim Raines Day in Sanford, but I also have a history of jinxing things, so I will put the pin back in that grenade for now.
One final note about baseball collectables and Tim Raines . . . Stop by The Sanford Museum (520 E. 1st St.) in Downtown Sanford to see an excellent collection of Tim Raines memorabilia. There is a great abundance of Sanford history on display as well and admission is free. It’s a great way to spend an afternoon for yourself, or with out-of-town visitors. It is also worth noting that the employees and volunteers there are brilliant and that their passion for Sanford history is infectious!
January 18th! Good Luck Tim Raines, thirteen year old Mike is rooting for you.
Mike Smith runs a business in downtown Sanford, is the proud owner of a Sanford Historic Home, and is better known around town as “Maggies Dad”. He also claims to have the largest baseball memorabilia collection the city . . . and dares you to challenge him otherwise.
*Sourced from Wikipedia.com