The following post is shared with the hope that it does not happen to you. In the winter of 1991, my sister informed me of a friend of her’s whose husband wanted to liquidate his baseball card collection. The collection consisted of baseball cards from the late 1970’s thru 1990. I made arrangements to visit this fellow on the day of Super Bowl 26 with the intent of purchasing his collection. I took my nephew with me to aid in the transport of the cardboard procurement.
A Mother to be and Baseball Cards
Upon arrival, I noticed his wife was QUITE pregnant and their apartment was tiny. These folks needed space for the bundle of joy that awaited. It was also clear that it was HER decision to unload HIS collection. Having been forewarned that he wanted $350 for the collection, I was prepared for that amount to exchange hands. After some pleasantries, we got down to brass tacks, he shared his asking price. He stated $400. I responded with “I have $250 on me”. I may have felt some empathy for this young man…but I did not feel enough to up the offer. He looked to his wife for counsel. She relayed, “I am almost ready to have this baby”. Thoroughly despondent, he accepted my offer. That was the moment my luck turned.
Cats and Baseball Cards
As my nephew and I loaded the car and drove back to our hometown, my eyes began to itch, burn, turn red, and my nose was running. My nephew probably thought I had become emotional with our transaction. Here’s the sad truth. That burgeoning young family owned cats that must have had their way with those baseball cards. I endured a sneezing attack of which I have seen no equal in the 25 years since.
As we unloaded the haul into my second-floor apartment, my symptoms became worse. The movie “HITCH” has a scene that accurately relates the mood.
It would be years until I could explore that collection. To this day I still experience some allergic effects when I explore those cards. I have to keep the cat infused cardboard compilation segregated from my core collection.
Mrs.V. and Baseball Cards
Relevant to this matter is the ever-present Mrs. V, who is not spared the ramifications of a purchase made years before we met. The, aforementioned, segregation has cost her prime closet space. We broach the subject from time to time with little or no action taken. My son, Nick V. is not in the clear either. He will assume this collection upon my demise. He told me he will eradicate the entire load with a “penny a pound sale”.
To add insult to injury, looking back, that collection was from a time frame that began a period of market saturation regarding the baseball card industry. Particularly in the late 80’s to early 90’s. It seems the father to be, not I, held the upper hand during the transaction. Mrs. V. is not happy. Nick V. does not want to be saddled with the cards. I am allergic to them. Who came out on top that cold January day 25 years ago?
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