You've caught me in a lyrical mood tonight. Maybe it's the chilled autumn air of my walk home from work tonight. Or maybe it's that we're finally able to tuck away our political differences and focus on the season of giving.
And as far as giving is concerned, I've decided to give myself more time to write. About what, you ask? Why, those cardboard rectangles that so dominate my life. Yes, many years have passed since we thrived here together, but lo, the cardboard sea calls to me still.
I saw a friend yesterday and he expressed interest in putting together a vintage set from childhood. Of course, he's not alone in this idea—like clockwork, you hit a certain age and find yourself on eBay, buying boxes of 1987 Fleer, or 1991 Topps Stadium Club, or whatever your Holy Grail set was when you were 8 years old.
The conversation got me thinking... Is that all there is? Endless pining over the card or set that got away? The one we couldn't afford on a $4-a-week allowance? Maybe so. But I've known and loved a lot of sets over the years, and, like some of you, never threw away my cards or had a parent who did. I've bought and sold sets, given away thousands upon thousands of cards to strangers and friends, and made lopsided trades just to empty my collection down to the barest of bones. (And I've documented most of it, over the years, on this blog.) So for me, the existential hole that only owning Will Clark's rookie card might
fill is not so very big. In fact, it may not be there at all. But to my friend, that hole is very real, and a couple Will Clark and Bo Jackson rookies would help fill it in quite nicely, thank you very much.
We talked about which set to collect. For him, it's the greatest hobby hits of the 1980s: 1983 Topps, 1984 Donruss, 1987 Fleer. For me, it was a bit more complicated: 1977 Topps, plus the cloth cards, the regional Burger King Yankees set and any additional O-Pee-Chee cards featuring players in different unis, photos, or teams. And I'd probably create my own customs once it was all said and done.
Talking out loud about collecting a new set got me excited, but it also got me thinking about what sort of collector I really am. My friend was excited by the idea of buying packs until he had completed a set that had eluded him as a kid. I was going on a more complicated, multi-step track: buying individual packs would probably be too cost-prohibitive. My route to a complete mini-mega-master set was going to be a series of eBay wins, Sportlots.com bulk purchases, and possibly a few cards picked up at a show or through my trading group.
I'm staring at that last sentence. Maybe to rekindle my love of collecting is just completing a set I can still buy in packs, or boxes. There are so few sets I'd want to collect from my childhood that I don't already have. I can count them on one hand: 1989 Topps, 1989 Score, 1985 Topps, 1994 Fleer. This friend and I have done Junk Wax Battles in the past, and those were a lot of fun. Maybe what I need is a true junk wax set... 1991 Fleer? The ugliest banana-yellow cards you've ever seen? Or all 10,000 cards from 1991 Score? If I'm going to do a junk wax set, it's got to have subsets, so that rules out 1990 Upper Deck and 1991 Fleer, despite the Pro Visions. Maybe 1990 Topps? I hated those cards as a kid, but 9 Nolan Ryans and a Greg Vaughn Future Stars card can't be wrong (plus all those recent Archives cards!)...
Showing posts with label collection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label collection. Show all posts
November 07, 2016
August 10, 2015
The Numbers Don't Add Up
After writing last night's post I did a quick calculation and realized I have waaaaay more than my professed 10,000-card ceiling. Here's how it breaks down:
1956 Topps set (342)
1965 Topps set (598) + Embossed set (72) + other random '65-inspired cards (25)
1969 Topps near set (664) + errors/variations + Deckle set (35)
1976 Topps set (660) + Traded & Missing Cards (88) + extras (30)
1978 Topps set (726) + extras (10)
1986 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (100)
1987 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (100)
1988 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (50)
2003 Topps Heritage master set (500) + extras (10)
2014 Topps Heritage master set (554) + Minis (60)
Red Sox collection of at least 1,500 cards
Player collections of at least 200 cards
Basketball collection (1,200)
T218 (60 cards)
1967 Topps Who Am I? (40 cards)
2013 Topps Heritage Minors (200 cards)
Other random cards (1,000)
1955 Topps (50 cards)
Miscuts/misprints (50 cards)
And all that adds up to 11,747 cards. I forgot to add the single vintage rookie and star cards I have, and the new A&G cards I bought last week. Plus the random Archives and Topps cards I gotta find a home for. Sounds like I will be a busy seller and trader in the coming weeks to bring that number down.
1956 Topps set (342)
1965 Topps set (598) + Embossed set (72) + other random '65-inspired cards (25)
1969 Topps near set (664) + errors/variations + Deckle set (35)
1976 Topps set (660) + Traded & Missing Cards (88) + extras (30)
1978 Topps set (726) + extras (10)
1986 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (100)
1987 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (100)
1988 Topps set (792) + Traded (132) + extras (50)
2003 Topps Heritage master set (500) + extras (10)
2014 Topps Heritage master set (554) + Minis (60)
Red Sox collection of at least 1,500 cards
Player collections of at least 200 cards
Basketball collection (1,200)
T218 (60 cards)
1967 Topps Who Am I? (40 cards)
2013 Topps Heritage Minors (200 cards)
Other random cards (1,000)
1955 Topps (50 cards)
Miscuts/misprints (50 cards)
And all that adds up to 11,747 cards. I forgot to add the single vintage rookie and star cards I have, and the new A&G cards I bought last week. Plus the random Archives and Topps cards I gotta find a home for. Sounds like I will be a busy seller and trader in the coming weeks to bring that number down.
August 09, 2015
The Magic Number
Ten thousand is a big number. And 10,000 of something is quite a lot. Unless, of course, we're talking about sports cards. Then it doesn't seem like so many.
It's here that I find myself these days, butting up against the 10,000-card ceiling, the amount my non-collector wife and I have decided should be the maximum number of cards in our apartment. For a while it was easy—10,000 cards is a lot of sports cards, after all. I had a few sets, a few small player collections of Ichiro, Kirby Puckett, Eddie Murray, Fred McGriff, Dwight Evans. But then I decided I wanted to collect a vintage set, so 1969 Topps became a focus. And as 2014 became 2015, I found I wanted to complete an Allen & Ginter set. And what about my vintage basketball card collection? Or those multiplayer combo cards I had a ton of?
I've always been a little jealous of those guys who take selfies with their patchwork quilts of top-loaded memorabilia cards, and those who are surrounded by binders of every set ever made. I was once like them. I once had hundreds of thousands of cards, an entire closet's worth of boxes, bags, and binders. Then I met my future wife and my priorities shifted. And now, after a few moves, I find myself with less cabinet space than in previous apartments and hard choices ahead. What do I save? What do I trade away? What do I try to sell? Why 10,000?
When we agreed on the number, 10,000 meant I could keep all the sets I already had, plus the Red Sox collection I was working on and my small player collections. But like all things, this number has taken on new meanings as time progresses.
Now 10,000 means no doubles. Ten thousand means if you bring in something new, something old is shown the door. Which is fine, in theory. But now "something old" is my 2003 Topps Heritage master set. And I'm not so sure I want to part with that just yet.
I have very little wiggle room these days, and sometimes I kick myself for setting the ceiling so low. So while I find that baseball cards consume my idle thoughts these days, it's complicated. It's not just about what to add to my collection next, but what I'll have to remove.
It's here that I find myself these days, butting up against the 10,000-card ceiling, the amount my non-collector wife and I have decided should be the maximum number of cards in our apartment. For a while it was easy—10,000 cards is a lot of sports cards, after all. I had a few sets, a few small player collections of Ichiro, Kirby Puckett, Eddie Murray, Fred McGriff, Dwight Evans. But then I decided I wanted to collect a vintage set, so 1969 Topps became a focus. And as 2014 became 2015, I found I wanted to complete an Allen & Ginter set. And what about my vintage basketball card collection? Or those multiplayer combo cards I had a ton of?
 |
| Don't worry, Eddie. With hair like that, you'll always be a keeper. |
I've always been a little jealous of those guys who take selfies with their patchwork quilts of top-loaded memorabilia cards, and those who are surrounded by binders of every set ever made. I was once like them. I once had hundreds of thousands of cards, an entire closet's worth of boxes, bags, and binders. Then I met my future wife and my priorities shifted. And now, after a few moves, I find myself with less cabinet space than in previous apartments and hard choices ahead. What do I save? What do I trade away? What do I try to sell? Why 10,000?
When we agreed on the number, 10,000 meant I could keep all the sets I already had, plus the Red Sox collection I was working on and my small player collections. But like all things, this number has taken on new meanings as time progresses.
Now 10,000 means no doubles. Ten thousand means if you bring in something new, something old is shown the door. Which is fine, in theory. But now "something old" is my 2003 Topps Heritage master set. And I'm not so sure I want to part with that just yet.
I have very little wiggle room these days, and sometimes I kick myself for setting the ceiling so low. So while I find that baseball cards consume my idle thoughts these days, it's complicated. It's not just about what to add to my collection next, but what I'll have to remove.
August 16, 2010
From the Collection
Every now and again I like to slip on my smoking jacket, my fuzzy slippers, and my oil-free archival gloves, pad into my study, take down my oversized oil painting of forgotten uncle Griggs Wigwam Henry, spin open the combination lock on my in-no-way-over-the-top super-secret safe, and go through my collection of cardboard rarities. I'm surprised I've even shared this much with you. Oh well. Behold! Here are a few of my most prized treasures...
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: damn, Ben, where'd you get the cheddar for all these fine sports cards? And how can I emulate your devil-may-care attitude?
Well, my friend, you're in luck. As little as 15 years ago, without reliable access to card shows and a slobbering, rag-tag band of sweaty-armpitted, mouth-breathing sports-card shop owners to take your hard-earned cash, you were poop out of luck of ever amassing even a fraction of the collection I've laid before you here today. But thanks to the cornucopia of benevolence found on the Internet, untold treasures are only a click away!
Want to be knee-deep in the fool's gold of 1991 Fleer baseball? Poof! You're wading through stack upon stack of that horrid set. You want to spend your next paycheck on an unopened case of 1985 Donruss? Poof! It's yours... And when life gives you 49 Frank Tanana Diamond Kings, you'll be happy to make Diamond King Tanana-ade...
Johnny Podres, 1969 Topps #659
It is perhaps the most meta card from the 1960s: Johnny Podres on the Padres.
Hank Arft, 1949 Bowman #139
Lo, to be born without an easily tease-able name!
Dick Selma, 1967 Topps #386
This is one of the most impressive printing registration screw-ups I've ever seen.
Van Lingle Mungo, 1934 Diamond Stars #19
It appears someone bit off more Mungo than they could chew.
Autographed Anthony Young, 1992 Topps #148
Bravely, the '16' in his signature
referred to his uniform number, not his record (1-16, 1992).
Dodgers' Sluggers, 1957 Topps #400
In all seriousness, this is one of my favorite cards ever made.
Pete Rose, 1985 Donruss #254
I've always thought Pete looked kinda pensive in this photo,
like he were a child seeking approval. I may be on the Expos, but I still got it, right?
Roy Sievers, 1956 Topps #75
Roy may have been a graceful outfielder, but here he looks like a drunk guy in a 1980s sex comedy, trying to catch the football without falling in the pool.
Joe Morgan TRADED, 1972 Topps #752
Why is this card a highlight? Three reasons: the guy in the background; Joe's muttonchop sideburns; and the fact that Joe Morgan signed it with a ballpoint pen.
Rod Carew, 1968 Topps #80
Far out! I got a Rod Carew in my pack!
Be a pal and hand me that pencil, would you?
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: damn, Ben, where'd you get the cheddar for all these fine sports cards? And how can I emulate your devil-may-care attitude?
Well, my friend, you're in luck. As little as 15 years ago, without reliable access to card shows and a slobbering, rag-tag band of sweaty-armpitted, mouth-breathing sports-card shop owners to take your hard-earned cash, you were poop out of luck of ever amassing even a fraction of the collection I've laid before you here today. But thanks to the cornucopia of benevolence found on the Internet, untold treasures are only a click away!
Want to be knee-deep in the fool's gold of 1991 Fleer baseball? Poof! You're wading through stack upon stack of that horrid set. You want to spend your next paycheck on an unopened case of 1985 Donruss? Poof! It's yours... And when life gives you 49 Frank Tanana Diamond Kings, you'll be happy to make Diamond King Tanana-ade...
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