This is going to sound like the ramblings of a bitter, jealous person mainly because these are the words of a bitter, jealous person. It just really grinds my gears when I see the rich get even richer especially when they were doing something that I did for the majority of my childhood. In this case, it’s collecting and trading cards. Although, back in my hey-day of card collecting, when I would trade a card it would be for another card not for 2.8m dollars. So, I suppose you could say there is a slight difference here.
Why couldn’t I ever been fortunate enough to of been given a Mickey Mantle rookie card or that Honas Wagner one? Oh it’s because Evan Mathis paid for it? Oh I see
Former NFL offensive lineman Evan Mathis turned out to be the seller. Per ESPN, he did so to buy a “dream home” for his wife and three daughters. To acquire the card, he traded away “90 percent” of his previous collection and made payments.
So it appears that Evan Mathis had this plan for years to acquire the card and then sell it. That’s the kind of investment I can really get behind. I’m still bitter and jealous that a professional athlete worth probably around 50 million dollars sold a baseball card for nearly 3 million dollars and all I have is a Miami Dolphins locker filled with cards that are worth collectively about $3.50.
While we’re on the topic of cards, is or was there anything better than opening a fresh pack of cards as a kid? The answer is of course not. You get a pack of Fleer basketball or Bowman football cards and you were the King of the Castle. The possibilities were endless. In elementary school, I admit only because I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations has ran out, but I was part of card gambling ring that had us playing UNO for cards. It was quite the racket that the screws had no idea we were running. Lots of tears shed at recess. I’ll also never forget the stories of how my Grandma threw out my dad’s card collection which allegedly contained some old time baseball gems such as Lou Gehrig and Ty Cobb. For years, I hoped that somehow the collection would be stumbled upon and I would be given them. That s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶ was a dream of mine. The ultimate was getting dragged to the mall by your mother on a Saturday morning and hating the idea of it but then you turn into the happiest kid in the world when you see that a card show was in the middle. That was the Super Bowl of cards to a kid. Nothing like seeing full box sets right there in front of you giving you increased chances of getting the rookie cards of the good players while weird old guys try getting you to convince your mom to buy them. And how can I forget about getting the latest Tuff Stuff? I felt like one of those jewelers with the small magnifying glass on one eye looking to see if a diamond was real when I was looking up to see how much my Barry Sanders Pro Staff card was. Those were the days.
PS- No way I make a trip home this weekend to take a look at my card collection. I would never do that. I’m not crying, you’re crying