Some old friends...

Whether it's reasonable justification, or pure and simple hypocrisy, my progress in letting things go is compounded by a mad obsession with surrounding myself with things I enjoy, or if we're being honest, toys of a new era.

For some reason (other than the fact that I'm a hoarder, and there's possibly eight dead cats strewn about the garbage in my room), I want to wear my heart on my sleeve, to show off things that I like. I never want to get rid of my favourite video games. Whether or not I ever play them anymore, I want to hold onto them, to show everyone out there... 'Hey! I played Sonic & Knuckles! It's part of who I am!!'

In a similar fashion, I chose to collect two of my favourite athletes of all time, Steve McNair and Eddie George and proudly brandish them atop a bookshelf that is in our spare room, and few people ever actually see. And funnily enough, I have no buyer's remorse whatsoever. Someday, in my great big billion dollar mansion with rooms the size of airports and stairways that lead to nowhere, the figures will stand tall in a man cave to be proud of.

But really, I've given this far more thought than I probably needed to. In short, I got some more toyz. Online shopping sprees, they're dangerous things.

We commence with this handsome Jose Bautista bust, slugger of Toronto Blue Jays fame. Despite the Blue Jays being the very first team I was ever a fan of, primarily because dad had a Jays sweater I enjoyed looking at, I'd say there are fewer Jays in the all-time echelons of my favourite athletes than in my other teams. Nearly all of them played during the glorious years of back-to-back pennants, save a few obvious exceptions: Stieb, Delgado, Halladay et al.

In Jose Bautista, the Jays have had a true superstar, garnering the rare adulation that Toronto-based athletes often deserve but often miss out on. He's our modern-day Joe Carter, only with a better OBP, keener defensive abilities, and at least 99% more Dominican conversations.

Hacking through his plastic enclosure to yank him open feels mildly perverse, like bulldozing a rainforest, or performing a really unpleasant Caesarean section. Frankly, it doesn't feel like he wants to come out to play: he's held in place with a cable tie, and then, shockingly, his right leg is held in place by a hole in the plastic. I don't know why, but it's no wonder he was injured so much last year. That's dangerous, man!

Eventually however, he's freed from his transparent hub. In the process, I manage to do minor damage to his bat, as I didn't realise it was held in with a layer of tape, and came into two pieces. It's supposed to detach, apparently, but not so violently. I'll pretend it was wear and tear caused by dingers. Or, if I were at bat, a pop fly that lands harmlessly in the glove of the pitcher.

As is to be expected, he's a striking young figure (no pun intended, unless it was funny), obviously thicker than his more lithe cohorts of other sports, and with a more intense glare. Personally, I would have made the figure sporting Joey Bat's awesome reflective sunglasses, but I guess sacrifices have to be made. He probably would have looked a little bit nonchalant with them on, like he was just chilling at the beach, wearing entirely inappropriate beach wear.

At first, getting his bat in his hand felt so difficult, I almost contemplated leaving it out. Without it, he's just doing the cha-cha, or launching a Kamehameha. I'm cool with that. I really don't want to snap his arm off and ruin the whole figure, when suddenly...

The arm wretches aside! What is this? His arms are... movable? What a shocking revelation! After years of just accepting that these fellas were locked into their respective positions, but Jose chooses to freely flail his arms about in the interest of making that perfect batting stance. Unfortunately, it now means I have two unwilling hands to force that bat through rather than one, but I'll live with it. Whether he will remains to be seen.

Our next subject is Chris Bosh, formerly of the Toronto Raptors. Rather amusingly, he comes packaged without legs.

Despite this, he's still better than anyone currently on the Raptors roster. Also, it means that I could recreate the scene from Robocop 2 where Murphy gets dismantled, if I wanted to. ...I don't think I want to.

The first thing that strikes me upon unleashing the Boshtrich is that... wow, he's really tall! I mean, it's to be expected when your subject matter stands at 6-10, but beyond that, the box reveals that this model happens to be 11½ inches tall, or exactly four inches taller than Muggsy Bogues.

One of the things I like about the McFarlane figures is that, whenever a player moves to a new team, their model is rereleased with an updated look. Sometimes, it's with a new pose and whatnot, but in the case of Mr. Bosh, it was in the exact same pose, only sporting a Miami jersey and a shaved head, as is his current look. If they were being truly accurate, the new Heat model of Bosh would come complete without the ball in his hand.

Oh, I kid. I kid because I love. As Scott Carefoot once pointed out, and yes, I realise I'm heavy-handed with the links today, Chris Bosh cops a lot of shit from fans, primarily because of how awkward he is. The other guys around him, LeBron and D-Wade, they're pretty cool, y'know? Pretty slick (like LeBron's forehead). But our boy Bosh? He's just this lanky dude who sometimes looks like a lizard. No reason to hate on that. Indeed, all the more reason to cheer for him. He'll always be a Raptor to me, perhaps primarily because he so resembles one.

Once I've finally gotten his legs on (one fell off onto my lap at one point. It was horrifying), I perch him upon his stand, and good lord, this thing really is huge!!

As you can see, Bosh towers over the once-hulking Jose Bautista, ready to dunk all up in the face of Felix Baumgartner. In fact, Jose looks like Joe Pesci, about to crack the kneecaps of this enormous beast. Truly, I fear for Bosh's safety up there: he's held in place by a sturdy little piece of metal, but he still wiggles when I touch him. It's actually really fun to poke him and watch him bob back and forth, but I surmise that it's not the best way to maintain the figure.

...Just one more poke. Hehe!

Now we meet Ryan Kesler. His box is dustier than the others, which makes me feel as though I am the only one who is buying Ryan Kesler. If I know my countrymen as well as I think I do, I figure a great deal of this is due to his being American. What do fellow Vancouver Canucks Kevin Bieksa, Roberto Luongo and Maxim Lapierre all have in common? They are all Canadian, and as such, they will always have that homegrown love. What else do they have in common? None of them are very good goalies.

I'll stop now. Because I have a near-legitimate fear that everyone I've talked smack about (Bosh, Luongo and the entirety of the 2013 Toronto Raptors) will come and get me. Which would be really cool for a photo opportunity, but ultimately dangerous to my person and my personal belongings. They might even poke my Bosh figure. Dangerous!

Ryan Kesler comes with a removable hockey stick, a tiny little puck I think I'll lose by the end of this sentence, and a shocked expression on his face. Maybe he's shocked that he's responsible for that tiny little puck, wherever it went. His pose is quite amazing, because he's leaning over so far he looks like he'll fall at any second, and it makes me really appreciate the grace and athleticism of hockey players. I mean, imagine being in that position on a field or a court, you'd lose your balance, right? Then imagine doing that on the ice, while being chased by many men with few teeth. Now I understand the look of alarm on Kesler's mug.

And finally, last but not least, the coup de grâce, the mack daddy, the man who garners more animosity from the Toronto faithful than perhaps anyone else (though really, that hatred should be directed at Hedo Turkoglu)...

Vince Carter.

For years, I bemoaned his name. The former Raptors' superstar, one of the biggest names in the league, who brought excitement to the young franchise with his sheer athletic prowess and bevy of amazing dunks. Then, after six years, things went south. Vince was traded for peanuts to New Jersey, and the divorce was less than amicable. It took me almost a decade to get over it, and now, I look back fondly on who he was for us, and what he did for us, rather than how it all ended.

And now, he's in my house. This particular figure is modelled after one of Vince's finest moments, his triumphant performance in the 2000 Dunk Contest, with a series of jams that many consider to be the best of all time. Perhaps it's appropriate that I got this figure in a year when Terrence Ross became the second Raptor of all time to win the contest? Perhaps it's fate? Perhaps it's coincidence? Perhaps I was just shit scared that if I waited much longer, the Vince figure would no longer be available in Raptors garb? ...Yeah, that was it.

Just like Chris Bosh, Vince is in mid-flight, but unlike his crimson ally, Vince tragically has the metal jutting right into his knee. Which frankly, you'd think would hurt his ability to jump. It might be my misty-eyed nostalgia, but I think this one is my favourite. It represents one of the highlights of my tragic tenure as a sport fan (bested only by Sidney Crosby's golden goal and the day that Joe Carter touched 'em all), and it will be forever immortalised upon my mantle, at least until one of several things happen (theft, earthquake, or angry fiancé furious that I spent all this money on toys).

And so, my set is complete, for now. There are other athletes who hold a place close to my heart, and inevitably there will be many more on the horizon. I look forward to watching this collection grow (as long as it doesn't become obsessive, which it most likely will), because there's always room for winners in my home.

...Fingers crossed, the next one is Andrew Wiggins after he leads Toronto to an NBA title.

Toy Flashback: Twins

"Has anyone ever told you we look alike?"

The box of Titans

Oh, lookie here! It appears as though I have a package labelled 'action figures' waiting for me from the United States postal service. What thrills! What suspense! What a contradiction in a blog where my supposed objective is to clear away a house full of toys.


Upon unwrapping it, I was shocked to be met with my old friends, Steve McNair and Eddie George, formerly of Tennesee Titans fame. But of course, I wasn't really surprised. I ordered them a week ago.


Emmitt Smith ran with the best of them. Eddie George was a fierce blocker for his quarterback. And in the fourth quarter, Randy Moss was excellent at getting out of the way.

They're hardly action figures, because they're modelled after certain poses, and feel rather fragile, but they're marketed as action figures all the same. Eddie and Steve are from a collectible series of McFarlane toys, from 2001 and 2004 respectively, so they're only going to appreciate in value, but I'm not interested in keeping these fellas boxed up. They wouldn't like that, and it's far beyond me to evoke the ire of a pair of pro athletes.

Right after the snap, we have to burst up the seam.

Then, we have to break through the middle. Eddie George was king of this.

Finally, there's sticky tape. I hate it when the opponent uses sticky tape.

Stellar. Now let's get a look at those bad boys in their finery.


This is an exact replica of Steve McNair with his offensive line of 2004. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to get the tiny little bit of metal on his foot to fit in the hole and keep him upright, so I have to balance him like a drunkard. Champion move, Tony.


Eddie George, on the other hand, stays firmly in place. For this reason, he's stoic, but hardly efficient on the football field, garnering a 0.0 rushing average. At least McNair in his current state is able to fall over for a short gain.


Eddie: "I don't get it, why do we have two balls?"
Steve: "Because we're boys, Eddie."

#0029: The Clown

There are occasionally times when the line between children’s series and mature programming are blurred. If the content is dark, violent and uncouth, is it unacceptable to market certain aspects towards the young’ins? I’d venture to say it’s iffy territory, but time and time again, I’ve been proven wrong.

Hundreds of Beetlejuice toys hit the market, and even a cartoon series, making Tim Burton’s original flick seem as though it’s suited for all ages. I watched it as a kid, and I was fine. Now, though, I can’t help but question… Do I want my kids to watch Beetlejuice spout foul language, and act like a lecherous pervert? Wouldn't they get enough of that from watching me, anyway?

The Terminator films contained explosions, blood and strong language (though the second was obviously much less gritty), yet kids were treated to delightful Arnold Schwarzenegger toys, complete with tattered flesh and a big honkin’ gun. As well as Austrian-accented banter. I liked for my Terminator to shout ‘There is no bathroom!’

I realise; a lot of these figures have age-restrictions on the packaging, but… they’re kid’s toys, y’know? They’re not the high-quality models for collectors, they’re plastic playthings for tots. At least, you’d be excused for thinking this when they’re found in the same toy aisle as Gumby and My Little Pony.

Like I said, I shouldn’t complain, and I shouldn’t be a prude. Christ, I watched a lot worse than that in my youth, and so far the only negative effects I’ve noticed are desensitization to gore in fictional media, a slight penchant for casual swearing, and, when I’m bored, the occasional flaying(!!!)

Today, we take a squiz at one of the culprits behind antsy parents eventually attempting to put the squash on mature toys and video games. Toys have gotten by fine, but video games are still yet to recover. And dammit, I blame you, John Leguizamo Clown!


I don’t know how or why Todd McFarlane’s Spawn series leaked its way into toys, but I guess it was inevitable. Nearly every comic book character has their own toy line, from Batman to Spiderman to Arm Fall Off Boy (at least, someday, hopefully!). Spawn started off as a comic series about a murdered U.S. marine who makes a deal with the devil to return to the mortal plane, only to go back on his word and fight evil instead.

So far, in that one sentence synopsis, we’ve dealt with treachery, murder, and HELL. Does that sound like appropriate fare for kiddies to you? For crying out loud, Mulligrubs got cancelled for being too scary.

I’ll stop harping on this point now. I’m sure you’re getting sick of it. I’m sick of it, mostly because it’s made my fury about the absence of an Arm Fall Off Boy action figure resurface. Anyway, in the distant year of 1994, the Spawn toys hit the scene, and they were the hot ticket on the birthday present scene.

I myself was awarded this guy right here, and immediately I pondered… well shit, he’s ugly, isn’t he? I know that the Spawn series wasn’t filled to the brim with supermodels, but the big fat scary clown man certainly wasn’t what I had in mind.

The Clown is the alternative form of the hellish demon Violator, which is a huge, hulking creature that looks like a cross between a praying mantis and really, really old chewing gum.


In the same vein as our dearly departed Slobster, the Clown’s hideous look belies some really, really pretty craftsmanship. His colours are accurate, his clothes are detailed, his hair is wild and scraggly, and his gut hangs out like a champion. He looks like what would happen if one of your weird distant uncles went off to join the evil circus.

He’s not terribly poseable, his legs being attached firmly to his torso (like most fat people), but his arms can wriggle up and down. Me personally, I like to point his right arm to the air in a defiant declaration that disco is alive and well.


Tragically, my Clown has some unsightly paint wear on his arm, exposing his dark blue undercoat. Fortunately, this can still be attributed to this human form only being a guise for the wicked Violator, hence the fleshy exterior isn’t real anyway. …I don’t know why I like to try and explain my toys’ wear and tear, I just do.

This damage is only apparent in his right arm however, which is a removable piece that I lost for a period of time. Why is it removable? Why, because he’s really Arm Fall Off Boy it holds magic powers, my dear!

Pardon the presence of two strikethroughs in one entry. I just couldn’t bear to part with either of them. Now you see, if you turn the Clown’s right arm around, he transforms into…

VIOLATOR!!

Well… sorta. He actually looks more like he has harlequin ichthyosis, but we won’t split hairs. This angry, veiny fetus of doom theoretically represents the middle ground between Clown and Violator. In essence, I myself feel violated.

As a result of this dandy little feature, the Clown is loaded with springs and cogs in his interior that makes him completely inappropriate for bath time play. But frankly, the Clown should never be allowed in your bathtub to begin with. I mean, just look at him. It’d be the spookiest water-based assailant since Jaws, and I’m pretty sure he’d stink out the tub, to boot.

I don’t think I’ll particularly miss my Clown. He’s an also-ran in the venerable history of TonyToys, an outcast who didn’t get much love. If you asked me to choose an enemy for the next playtime session, I would much rather opt for Bebop. Yes, I would rather choose a bumbling anthropoid warthog than an almighty demon, simply because he comes in the form of an obese clown. Look, you can find 800 guys who look just like the Clown walking around Manhattan, but Bebop, he’s unique, you see. Must be the purple Mohawk.


…GET OUT OF MY FUCKING BATHTUB.