The 1968 Topps baseball card set is most famous for featuring the original “Dean’s Cards.” This novel marketing promotion involved including unlicensed cards of former longtime baseball star Dizzy Dean as an insert in random packs of the standard cards. While not technically part of the official Topps set, these inserts became immensely popular and their nostalgic portrayal of Dean increased interest in both collecting baseball cards and appreciating vintage players from another era.
The origins of the Dean’s cards idea came from the creative minds at Topps. In 1967, former Cardinals pitching great Jay “Dizzy” Dean had begun doing color commentary for Atlanta Braves telecasts. His entertaining southern drawl and witty sayings resonated with many new younger baseball fans who had not seen Dean play over 30 years earlier. Topps’ marketing group realized there was retro appeal in spotlighting Dean and his iconic pitching career from the 1930s. They sketched crude back-of-the-napkin designs for extra Dean cards to surprise collectors.
Topps gained Dean’s verbal approval to use his likeness without a formal licensing agreement. They printed approximately one Dean’s card for every 10-12 packs of the standard 400-card 1968 baseball set. These unnumbered extras were distributed at random throughout production from January to March 1968. Excitement built as cards started surfacing from surprised youth opening packs. While not true “short prints,” these inserts created scarcity buzz before inserts and parallels became commonplace.
Each Dean’s card featured a portrait photo of the older, recognizable broadcaster on the front. The back contained statistics from his 17-year Major League career as both a pitcher and outfielder/first baseman. It outlined some of his accomplishments like 150 career wins and his election to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1953. Also highlighted were his colorful nicknames like “Ol’ Diz” and “Cotton Pickin’ Pitcher” alongside famous sayings attributed to him.
The fact that Topps printed the cards without official MLB Properties approval meant they were technically not authentic MLB-licensed cards. But this also added to their mystique as wacky bonus inserts unique to 1968 Topps. Their crude yet nostalgic design channeled trading cards from the 1930s-1950s when the industry was just taking shape. Collectors coveted finding a Dean insert in the midst of regular cards from current stars like Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle, and Sandy Koufax.
While estimates vary, card historians generally agree Topps printed approximately 50,000 total Dean’s cards inserted randomly into the 1968 set. With original packaging long discarded, there’s no definitive counts. But surviving examples offer a unique time capsule look at Dizzy Dean near the end of his life in 1968 before his passing the following year. The cards served as a reminder of baseball’s earlier eras for many younger collectors just getting introduced to the hobby.
In the ensuing decades, the 1968 Topps Dean’s cards developed a cult following. Like early 1950s Topps cards before modern grading, their crude charm was appreciated more with age. Finding high grade specimens in pristine condition became the ultimate treasure hunt for dedicated collectors. While not literally rare, the cachet of opening an old pack and encountering a Dean insert sparked imaginations.
Prices increased steadily as fewer uncirculated examples survived in attics and basements. By the 2010s, a gem mint PSA 10 Dean’s card could fetch $1,000 USD or more at auction due to their unconventional, almost home-made retro appeal. The inserts represented a unique time-capsule moment when Topps experimented outside the lines by spotlighting a baseball pioneer without official sanction. They sparked the collector mindset of treasuring history found inside inexpensive childhood hobbies.
The 1968 Topps Dean’s cards left an indelible mark on the collecting industry for creatively honoring a baseball hero of yesteryear. While not “real” cards per se, their charming nostalgia as insert bonus items captured imaginations. Topps took a slight risk by slipping them unlicensed into packs but reaped rewards in engendering goodwill. The inserts became cherished nostalgia pieces treasured far out of proportion to the company’s original modest intentions. They showed how surprise promotions could make the mundane extra special for both young fans and those remembering baseball’s earliest innovators.
