The Subhelmet Hat Alliance: Dion James

I like beer. All kinds of beer. Some more than others, but as a general rule, I’ll drink pretty much any beer. I may even be willing to give Genny Cream Ale another shot. Genny Cream Ale was the first beer I ever drank and it was years of wine coolers (I know) before I was able to wander back to the land of men from the land of pansies.

When I’m out among friends it’s usually the typical bud light/ miller lite type stuff. You can have 1, 2, or 14 of those no problem. But they aren’t among my favorites. There are some beers that I’m not too fond of that others seem to like. Heineken (although Heineken Light is pretty good), Rolling Rock, and Yuengling are among them. For some reason my father in law, a great guy, has gotten it into his head that I like Heineken. So I get to drink that while he drinks Coors. I’d much rather have a Coors but I don’t have the heart to tell him after so long. Yuengling, if you haven’t heard of it, is “America’s Oldest Brewery”. You’d think they would have figured it out by now. The only thing I can figure that these beers have in common is that they are either in a green bottle or they are brewed in Pennsylvania. I don’t know if it’s the stench of Pittsburgh or what, but PA beer sucks, Iron City Beer being just about the most putrid shit I’ve ever tasted. But they seem to like it there. Hey, whatever floats you boat.

Now, I’ll list a few great beers, or rather breweries. First is Bells from Kalamazoo Mich. As much as I dislike the land up north, this is fantastic beer. I haven’t had one that I didn’t think was excellent. Try the Amber Ale or the Kalamazoo Stout; two ends of the spectrum.



The best brewery in the USA is Great Lakes Brewing Co. I’m crappin’ you negative, and it’s not just because I live in Cleveland. They make some of the best beer I’ve ever had anywhere, period. Around December they release their Christmas Ale. It is so good they ran out last year. People where buying up cases wherever they could find them. The easiest place to get it was on eBay but you had to pay twice as much. I highly recommend you try it.










My favorite beer for a long time has been Corsendonk. I’ve been drinking it when I can for a long time now. It used to be something that was hard to find, but now it’s fairly prevalent. It’s brewed in Belgium by monks, supposedly. I’ll tell you what, those monks know how to brew it, man. Just fantastic stuff. Pick up some Abbey Brown in the big bottle with the cork. You won’t regret it.

“Why the hell” you are asking yourself “is this idiot blathering on about beer?” Well, I’ll tell you. It’s because of Guinness. Everyone loves Guinness. Guinness has those cool cans. Everyone drinks Guinness draft. Guinness, Guinness, Guinness. I’m about the only guy I know that doesn’t like Guinness.

“GET TO THE DAMN POINT”

OK. Keep your pants on Susie. Because everyone likes Guinness except me; because it always looks good; because it’s not bad if you’re doing a car bomb; every year or two I try it again, convinced that I’ll finally be able to taste what everyone else tastes. I should like it. So I order a Guinness…and I still don’t like it.






That, in a nutshell, is the career of Dion James, second member of the Subhelmet Hat Alliance. Coming into the league he was a first round draft pick of the Brewers in 1980. He was in their organization for a while and even showed some promise, but never really lived up to the Brewers expectations. They didn’t really like him. He got traded to Atlanta for Brad Komminsk in ’87. The Braves thought he looked good enough to give up a decent player for him. But after 2.5 years the Braves decided that they didn’t really like him either. Cleveland, in ’89 thought “Dion James looks good” and traded another pretty good player for him in Oddibe McDowell.

Well, after a little over a year the Tribe had tried Dion James and didn’t like him. He was released. The Yankees thought “Hey, this guy’s alright” and signed him in ’92. Then released him in ’93. Then tried him again in ’95. Then released him again in ’95.

The Expos got in on it. “This guy SHOULD be good”. They released him in 1 month. The Yankees gave him ANOTHER shot. Released him in 1 month.

Dion James came full circle with the Brewers in June of ’96. They released him in 3 weeks. Baseball as a whole had finally come to the point that I have come to with Guinness. They were done fuckin’ around with Dion James. I’m done fuckin’ around with Guinness. What the hell took either of us so long, I’ll never know.

So here is Dion James in all of his sub helmet hat glory. Look at the separation on that thing. It’s fantastic. The best one I’ve run across. I doubt that this look is what got Dion James released all of those times. But, it sure as hell couldn’t have helped.

The Subhelmet Hat Alliance: Jerome Walton

Set number 3 in Kramer's Collections is the Subhelmet Hat Alliance.

What is the greatest baseball team ever assembled? For many the '27 Yankees comes to mind. For others it may be the '75 Big Red Machine. A delusional Tribe fan may argue the '54 or '95 Indians, conveniently ignoring the fact that those teams never actually won anything (a small detail). This has been and will continue to be argued throughout time until Skynet becomes self aware.

I'm here to tell you, you are all wrong. The greatest team ever assembled was the '83 Routine Carpet Cleaners. As a proud member of that team I can tell you that we were dominant on a level not unlike the Cobra Kai dominated Danielson before he met Mr Miyagi. We were 7 years old and in the "Little Indians" coach pitch league. These were the days before T-ball. The Routine Carpet Cleaners deserve their own blog post.

What I want to talk about is the next year. The summer of '84 when the RCC was broken up. We were moved to the next level, the minors, where players pitched and coaches brought the equipment and gave out tickets to the candy stand. This was to be my summer of lost innocence. Well, maybe that's overstating it, but it did kind of suck. I was on a new team with new kids and was suddenly playing against better competition. No more 35-2 victories. No more coach tossing it exactly were I liked it. Suddenly I had to worry about getting hit with the ball. Everyone who played little league went through the same thing.

Two things happened that summer that seemed like a really big deal. One was a water line in town broke. The water, now contaminated, needed to be boiled. No more snowcones. No more orange pop (yes pop, not soda like some of you weirdos like to call it). No more long drinks from the water fountain. Suddenly all of the parents needed to eye each other with suspicion. Cliques were formed. The good, clean people, who boiled their water and therefore could be trusted with the water coolers, and the sketchy people who SAID they boiled the water, but maybe didn't. My parents were in the first group. My coach was in the second. It makes for a long summer (in retrospect it was probably only a few days or a week. It just seemed like the whole summer) when you have to decline a drink from your coach because your parents forbid you to drink his water. He knows why you won't drink it. It's very uncomfortable. As far as I know, every player survived that summer without coming down with dysentery.

The second thing to happen was an outbreak of lice. It started as a rumor. Some kids are getting lice. We were informed that in order to protect ourselves were to wear our hats underneath the helmet. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In retrospect it is a little like when we were taught to hide under our desk in the event of a nuclear attack. It was also just as effective. (Actually I'm assuming here. Maybe a desk IS the perfect protection from a huge blast of radiation. How would I know?). I, along with my friends, spent what seemed like days laying on the counter with our heads in the sink while our moms washed our hair with a mixture of vinegar, gasoline, and guacamole and combed our hair with tiny combs. It was brutal. Why they didn't just shave our heads I'll never know.

That experience is the genesis of this set. Players who for some reason STILL wear their hat underneath their helmet as if they trying to ward off lice. They know that it is their own helmet now. They know that lice probably doesn't make the rounds in The Show like it did in little league in the summer of '84. But, dammit, they aren't taking any chances. That's what I think of anyway when I look at one of these cards.

And here is the first card of the set. Jerome Walton:

When people think of '89 Upper Deck they invariably think of Ken Griffey Jr. I think of Jerome Walton. Why? Because I'm the A-hole who paid $15 for this card. Jerome Walton, I was convinced would be a Hall of Famer. Even better than Mark Lewis (Indian's Phenom, at least for a few months) and Kevin Seitzer ( who's card is in every pack ever produced). I looked it up and $15 in '89 is like $24.50 today. That is serious scratch for a 14-15 year old kid and remains the most I've ever spent on a single baseball card.

Walton started off strong, winning the ROY in '89 even going on a 30 game hitting streak (I'm sure DiMaggio was nervous). It was his last significant contribution, although he had a decent year in '95 for the Reds. That $15 is like Keyser Soze. Poof...It's gone. It doesn't seem fair. Jerome made close to $3 mil during his major league career. Maybe if I write him a letter he will send me my $15. I won't even account for inflation. That's just the kind of guy I am.

Looking back, maybe when I saw the card with Jerome's hat on underneath his helmet I should have known something was off. Maybe I should have put that $15 back in my pocket. Better to spend it on a sure thing. Like Hensley Bam Bam Meulens.