What: 1981 Topps – #126 Charlie Leibrandt – Cincinnati Reds
When: Sometime in 1981
Where: Second floor of 4024 Risa Court, Tierrasanta, CA
As my three older sisters and older brother will attest, I was a holy terror from the ages of 3 to 6. In one instance, I ran out the front door while my sister E was babysitting. She was on the phone at the time, saw me run out the door, chased me and slammed her foot into a steamer trunk, thus breaking her toe. The said steamer trunk was for a trip to England I believe, so I was the culprit in sending a teenage girl on a once in a lifetime trip with a broken bone.
In another incident, I fancied myself as Indiana Jones. I donned my best corduroys and vest, put on my holster and cap pistol, affixed my plastic Bowie knife to my belt and adorned my new found whip. A whip that was incidentally my mother’s clothes line, which I had cut down. I strutted around our cul-de-sac, acting the part, waiting for an adventure. Soon enough, an older kid came by and gave me the business. I pulled my whip out, reared back and SNAP, popped the kid right in the forehead. He went home crying, and with no doubt, I was crying a few hours later.
Now that you get a feel for the terror I was as a child, I unfortunately did not hold back on my older brother, J. On one day in 1981, something transpired between my brother and me. I believe it had something to do with me going through his baseball cards, and if memory serves me correct, it was his New York Mets. What I did or why I got the reaction I got is lost to the ages, but my brothers response was to storm into my room, grab my shoebox and pull out my Cincinnati Reds. At this point, I know I was hysterically screaming.
He snapped off the rubber band, and threw my Reds all over my room. As the cards rained down, I was frantically whining for our mom to end the carnage. Before my mom arrived, my brother reached down, and grabbed a 1981 Topps Charlie Leibrandt. He then stood up and tore it right in half. I’m sure I lost it at that moment. That card remained in my collection until around the turn of the millennium. I think I finally found a replacement card and decided to trash The Leibrandt Halves.
When: Sometime in 1981
Where: Second floor of 4024 Risa Court, Tierrasanta, CA
As my three older sisters and older brother will attest, I was a holy terror from the ages of 3 to 6. In one instance, I ran out the front door while my sister E was babysitting. She was on the phone at the time, saw me run out the door, chased me and slammed her foot into a steamer trunk, thus breaking her toe. The said steamer trunk was for a trip to England I believe, so I was the culprit in sending a teenage girl on a once in a lifetime trip with a broken bone.
In another incident, I fancied myself as Indiana Jones. I donned my best corduroys and vest, put on my holster and cap pistol, affixed my plastic Bowie knife to my belt and adorned my new found whip. A whip that was incidentally my mother’s clothes line, which I had cut down. I strutted around our cul-de-sac, acting the part, waiting for an adventure. Soon enough, an older kid came by and gave me the business. I pulled my whip out, reared back and SNAP, popped the kid right in the forehead. He went home crying, and with no doubt, I was crying a few hours later.
Now that you get a feel for the terror I was as a child, I unfortunately did not hold back on my older brother, J. On one day in 1981, something transpired between my brother and me. I believe it had something to do with me going through his baseball cards, and if memory serves me correct, it was his New York Mets. What I did or why I got the reaction I got is lost to the ages, but my brothers response was to storm into my room, grab my shoebox and pull out my Cincinnati Reds. At this point, I know I was hysterically screaming.
He snapped off the rubber band, and threw my Reds all over my room. As the cards rained down, I was frantically whining for our mom to end the carnage. Before my mom arrived, my brother reached down, and grabbed a 1981 Topps Charlie Leibrandt. He then stood up and tore it right in half. I’m sure I lost it at that moment. That card remained in my collection until around the turn of the millennium. I think I finally found a replacement card and decided to trash The Leibrandt Halves.
Should have kept the original for posterity
Soon our mother was there, and likely took my side, since I was the baby. I remember her making my brother pick up all the cards and place a rubber band around them before placing them back in my shoebox.
In retrospect, I don’t know why it happened, but I can almost guarantee that it was my fault.
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