Starting Lineup

When I was a kid, there was a limited amount of athlete-related media. There was no Internet, no NBA League Pass and no Twitter feeds. PER was meaningless to basketball fans, no reality shows and only one ESPN. We weren’t exposed to athletes in the way we are now, and we couldn’t feel as connected to the players personally. Sure, once a week I popped on the NBA on NBC and watched MJ dismantle the Knicks followed by the Jazz taking on either the Sonics, Rockets or Suns. And when I went to Chuck E. Cheese, I played the hell out of NBA Jam Tournament Edition. But because I couldn’t cruise blogs, watch Delonte West’s YouTube videos or create myself to dominate Kobe on NBA Live, I did the next best thing: I collected sports action figures.

When I lost my first tooth, instead of the traditional dollar under the pillow, I awoke with a figurine of Patrick Ewing. His left hand pointed awkwardly on his hip, while his right hand pointed sky high, shooting a hook shot and wearing a pair of shorts that even Richard Simmons would want to add fabric to. I started saving my allowance every week to go to the toy store and pick out the next athlete to sit atop my nightstand. Although my dog ended up chewing Ewing’s head off – in a clear act of frustration from his late-game mishaps – I built up quite a collection.

For you history buffs, Starting Lineup action figures were produced from 1988 to 2001, first by Kenner and then later by Hasbro. The figures stood about four inches tall and were somewhat realistic renditions of popular sports icons. They initially made only basketball, baseball and football, but then branched out to other sports including track and field and boxing. The athletes were distributed in arbitrary, somewhat athletic poses, and the package also included a trading card of said player. Although the figurines (don’t you dare call them dolls) retailed for as little as $7, the more rare players have been priced at upwards of $1000.

Now if you give a child the choice between a crudely painted plastic statue and an iPad today, its gonna be a no-brainer. But not to me. The nostalgia of arranging Kevin McHale shooting a hook shot over the outstretched arms of Danny Manning, while John Starks rose for a jumper and Jamal Mashburn drove to the hoop trumps any game of Angry Birds. I could feel a personal connection to these athletes and it was never tainted by an errant tweet or gambling lawsuit. All I know is that when my kid loses his first tooth, the Tooth Fairy will be leaving him something with more lasting power than a dollar bill.