I pit what has happened to the sports card industry in the past 15 years, which I happened to have completely missed because I wasn’t paying attention.
When I was younger, sports card collecting was something my Dad and I had some passion for, and we spent hours upon hours looking for deals to complete sets, going through cardboard boxes, carefully logging specimens and placing them in plastic protective thingies. In those days, condition didn’t matter all that much, as long as corners were sharp and someone hadn’t taken a hole puncher to a card.
This weekend, I subscribed to Beckett online and found out that just about every card I own is absolutely worthless. Based on what I can piece together, here’s what happened:
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At some point, the bottom fell out because no one wanted to pay $10,000 for a piece of cardboard with Mickey Mantle’s picture on it.
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Some people decided to get into the business of grading the condition of cards. Now the collectors that remain are obsessed with condition above all other things, and everyone’s priorities are out of whack, while they pursue cards in a condition called “Gem Mint”
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Based on what I’ve been able to gather, a card satisfies the conditions required for “Gem Mint” if and only if the collector stands at the end of the row of machines at the Topps plant and captures the card in lucite before it has been touched by human hands. Oh, and the card has to be perfectly centered and otherwise free of any defects the very printing press it’s made on could introduce.
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None of my cards are “Gem Mint” and therefore are worthless.
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There are only a handful of companies that get to determine what “Gem Mint” is. Not surprisingly, they seem to be the only ones making money in card collecting anymore.
So that 1980 Topps Ricky Henderson rookie card that used to fetch $100 in the late 1980s? Pretty much worthless. Unless it’s Gem Mint, in which case it’s worth more than the GDP of Argentina.
Speaking of 1980, no one seems to want any baseball cards made after 1980. Too much supply. So no one wants anything from my prime collecting years.
Even if you do have some cards that somebody might want, selling them would require sending them off to the Validation Gods to have them graded (see #5, above) so that the obsession with condition can self-perpetuate. It’s this kind of crapola that makes a 1960 Topps Mickey Mantle in reasonable shape (considering it’s a piece of fucking CARDBOARD that’s been lying around for 45 years) worth less than a common card from that era that happens to have been sealed in an airtight container, placed in a vault with lead-lined concrete walls 7 feet thick, and never permitted to be touched by light, heat, or particulate matter of any kind.
This revelation that every baseball card I own is apparently worthless has taken a toll on me, considering I’ve paid for an offsite storage space to contain all the cards my Dad gave me. Had I known they were that worthless, I would have given them away years ago.
Instead, I’m…
- Giving notice to the landlord on the storage space this week.
- Selling my entire collection on eBay.
- Throwing anything that doesn’t sell into a pile and burning it along with the leaves this fall.
- Pulling my hair out over having thought these damned things would actually hold their value, and paying rent for a space where I could keep them.