In 1967, the first year listed on the back of this card, Terry Harmon was the sound of one hand clapping. He had no at bats, no doubles, no triples, no home runs, no runs, no RBI, and a batting average of .000. He existed without existing. Other members of the 1967 Phillies, unable to recall Harmon ever being around, were surprised in later years to see his grim, robotic visage among familiar faces in the team picture for that season. There is no listing on the back of this card for 1968, evidence perhaps that it is possible to do even less than nothing. In 1969, Harmon commenced churning out a few generically forgettable seasons, blooping enough broken-bat singles in limited action to bat in or around the low .200s. I don’t know if this means anything, but I was born during Terry Harmon’s less-than-nothing season of 1968; furthermore, the birth occurred in Willingboro, New Jersey, and as far as I can tell the only Cardboard God ever to have had anything to do with Willingboro, New Jersey, seems to have been Terry Harmon, who resided there when this photograph was taken of him reaching for a groundball that will never arrive.