Let's Remember Some Guys: More 1990 Score Football Guys

It has been a while since last we at Let’s Remember Some Guys Remembered Some Guys, but that doesn’t mean that we’d forgotten. We haven’t forgotten any Guys, of course, at least beyond the attrition that comes with being alive and periodically having to do things other than Remembering Guys. But also we have not forgotten why this all matters, or why this rite of Remembering, in comfortable pastel chairs and with restful musical accompaniment, means what it means.


That sounds kind of foreboding, actually. I just meant that it’s nice to reflect on past memories as a brief and dreamy break from this unreflective and headlong and surpremely stupid moment. And so Dom Cosentino joined me to rip a pack of Score’s second and most egregiously neckroll-heavy set of NFL football cards. Score was not a card company for very long, but they delivered when it came to vivid photography and a retrospectively self-defeating dedication to making sure that no remotely forgettable Guy wound up in the set. The risk, with these packs,is tearing it open to find nothing but rectangular guards and nose tackles named Tom, each with necks like Douglas Fir trees and identical gasping sideline portraits on the back. Anyone who grew up in that era and had to try to convince a friend to accept an Alan Veingrad card in trade knows about this anxiety.

But instead, Dom and I got a pack of extremely memorable Guys—stars and rectangular demi-stars and be-mulleted former Pitt standouts and Herschel Walker himself, a man good enough at football that he once had his own local television show with its own theme, which I somehow wind up singing in a frankly unforgivable falsetto. We also celebrate the extremely cool K-Gun Buffalo Bills, apologize to chunky former Falcons running back John Settle, and learn a bit of extremely useless Super Bowl Trivia thanks to an unsophisticated hologram.

This is probably the point where I should mention that there is a chance that Herschel Walker’s show never existed and that my Minneapolis friends have been pulling off an elaborate prank for decades, precisely because they knew would work on me. I can’t rule that out, but honestly it doesn’t matter. I sang the thing either way. Print the legend.

David Roth is an editor at Deadspin.