Observations from the Card Show Front Lines - UPDATED!!!

[jchcollins]

It’s sad to think about, but I could go back to my hometown and the surrounding communities now and point out buildings, “this used to be a card shop, that store in the mall used to be a card shop…” All of course gone now.

The good thing is in my current city there are more card / hobby shops now than there were when I first moved here almost 25 years ago now. It always seemed to me that the hobby crashed pretty hard in the late 1990’s. Of course I had moved on to college, and wasn’t really paying attention. The internet and eBay had changed things dramatically by the time I got back involved, but even now it’s nice to have the option to go to shops and shows when you feel the need.


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[Seven]

Originally Posted by jchcollins

It’s sad to think about, but I could go back to my hometown and the surrounding communities now and point out buildings, “this used to be a card shop, that store in the mall used to be a card shop…” All of course gone now.

The good thing is in my current city there are more card / hobby shops now than there were when I first moved here almost 25 years ago now. It always seemed to me that the hobby crashed pretty hard in the late 1990’s. Of course I had moved on to college, and wasn’t really paying attention. The internet and eBay had changed things dramatically by the time I got back involved, but even now it’s nice to have the option to go to shops and shows when you feel the need.


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I've seen more Card shops popping up lately around my neighborhood and the surrounding ones. However they're much different then they used to be. All geared towards modern/shiny things. Very few "vintage cards" almost always from the 60's or the 70's. Nothing from before then.

Not to put on the Nostalgia Glasses, but in my opinion there's very few stores that capture the old school Hobby Shop feel. If I've said it once, I said it 1000 times, there was a shop up in Cooperstown called Baseball Nostalgia that did it perfectly. Of course it was a relic, from the 1970's but it stood strong for a long time before finally closing maybe two years ago. Fair prices, honest hard working people in the store. Memorabilia and cards, covered the floor to the ceiling.

[JollyElm]

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There was another show in town, and although I only bought four measly cards, I hung in there endlessly looking for topics to cover, and I now present the results of my observations and interactions.
Since this is just waaaaaaay too long, if you decide to quickly pull the ripcord to save yourself, I swear I won’t take it personally!!!


1. Today’s Show Sponsor: Emily Post
Here is something I never thought I would say. In this maelstrom of a jam-packed show, I cannot believe how very (I mean over-the-top) polite the attendees were. We all know that walking the floor of one of these things is tantamount to being a fleshy pinball, with your person being bounced around non-stop. But at this show, it didn’t matter how softly someone bumped into me, or even if they caught themselves FROM bumping into me, the whole day was an endless refrain of “Sorry!” or “Whoops! My fault.” or “Excuse me!” or “My apologies!” A British sounding guy even made room to allow me to pass, and with a sweeping flourish of a hand gesture said, “By your leave.”

I have absolutely no explanation for any of this.


2. Rapporical Question Redux (refer to post #37 in this thread)
A guy saw my Mets hat bobbing in the crowd and yelled out, “A Mets fan, hey!!” Assuming he called out to me because my orange and blue is a rare sight out here, so he must be a fellow fan, I decided to give his table a look-see. Asking me the obligatory question of who my all time favorite Met is, I said, “Dave Kingman, DUH!” His face immediately froze into a ‘How the heck could I possibly know that?’ gaze. And then he broke my heart by talking about ‘Kong’ on the frickin’ Cubs, not the Mets!! The Cubs!! That got me grumbling, but even worse was when he suddenly called out, “A Cardinals fan, hey!!,” followed by a moment later, “A Bears fan, hey!!,” so it didn’t matter what insignia you were wearing, you were only a target. What a bummer...I thought I was special.


3. Failed Punnery
Along the same lines, someone else seeing my ‘Steal Your Face’ shirt tried to draw me in by happily saying, “You going to any of the Dead shows coming up? I can’t wait!!” Not having the heart to squash his enthusiasm by saying my live Dead Head days ended when Jerry died in ‘95, I instead brought it ‘round to baseball cards by saying, “No, but I am looking for Haight-SLASHbury...(long silence and a vacant stare)...you know, pricewise...SLASH-bury...slashed prices...get it??”

Wow, that didn’t get even a ripple (see what I did there?) of a laugh. I guess some comedians are just not appreciated in their own time.


4. Loftier Slab Delusion (LSD)
Since we’re on the topic of hallucinogenic narcotics, as I kept on truckin’ (see what I did there?) along, I saw a guy with his nose in the books (which these days means continually staring at images and data on an iPad while tapping away at the keyboard) who kept excitedly saying things to his buddy like, “This one definitely should be a 7...and that one’s a minimum of a 6,” as he pointed to cards the dealer had removed from his display case for him.

Since the cards he was talking about had lower numbers on the slabs than the numbers he was saying, his intent was clearly to buy the cards, break them out and resubmit them to get bigger numbers and rake in the dough.

Talk about a doomed experiment in lunacy. There were two basic things he wasn’t even considering at all:
1) The prices on the cards he was targeting were marked up by the dealer as if the numbers on the slabs were (at a minimum) three digits higher. That’s why no one bought them yet!! You can’t pay ridiculously high prices for cards, crack them out to resubmit for higher numbers, and be able to make a profit. You’re into the cards for way too much money and it’ll cost even more to have them graded. Do the math!!!!
2) There is no way in heck you can be sure to get a higher grade (let alone the same grade) on a resubmission!!!!!

Let me foreshadow what will appear later in this post, every single one of us collectors is mentally deranged.


5. Glut Reaction or The 49ers and the Gold Crush

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I hate the San Francisco 49ers.

In the wake of the Super Bowl loss, I approached this huge set-up of 49ers merch (enough surplus to clothe an army) and said, “My teams are in New York, so not looking to buy anything, but wanted to ask you how your sales are going. You really got a ton of stuff.”

Busying himself with neatening the piles, he offered, “The Niners were unstoppable. I really thought we were going to take it this year...but that (Super Bowl) Sunday ruined my life. I can’t believe they blew it in overtime!! I really loaded up on shirts, hats and jackets for shows, especially the huge one next month at The Cow Palace, and I was going to make a killing, but it’ll be a stretch just to break even now.”

I asked, “So, are you stuck with everything?”

“Yes and no. Learned my lesson after those damn Chiefs beat us the first time, so I only bought a few ‘Super Bowl Winner’ things, so that was smart, and just a bunch of these ‘NFC Champs’ pieces,” as he showed me a hat, “which will definitely sell. But the big problem is a victory would’ve really allowed me to increase my prices (he suddenly caught himself)...I mean, not just me, every seller of the red and gold would’ve done the same thing......to ride the gravy train, you know??”

I felt a little bad for the capitalist in him, but my brain was yelling, “Think you got it bad??? Try being a Bills fan like me!!!” Instead, I offered a less emotional, “It’s natural to underestimate the malaise that follows a loss, because even though they had a great season, that failure rips your heart out and you want nothing to do with the team you love. It takes a while for that love to find its way back home. (Wow! I’m sure there must’ve been a smug look on my face as I thought of what a great philosopher/poet I had become!) It happens every single year with me and the Buffalo Bills!!!”

Apparently, things could get even worse for him. With exasperation, he also threw in, “And if any of these guys end up on other teams (he had a wide variety of shirts with player names and numbers on them), their shelf-life has already ended and into the furnace they go!!”

He bid me adieu with a bit of a sad gleam in his eye, “Guess I’m gonna have to tell my wife it’s going to be at least another year before we can buy our winery up in Napa.”

Trying to grab an exiting laugh, I said, “Well, better luck next ‘over’ time!!”

I hate the San Francisco 49ers.


6. Who Knew Cardboard Ripened Like a Piece of Fruit?
Curious that a seller’s discount bin prices had been edited out and elevated (he artfully and seamlessly turned his “4 For $20!!!” signs into “3 For Only $20!!!” signs), I asked him why he did that. He replied “Spring traniing is in full swing (man, he missed a golden opportunity to add “pun intended”), so the excitement is in the air. Gotta make the bucks while the cards are in season.”


7. A Joke of a Woke Bloke (Literally, a BLOKE!)
It’s with regret that I have to report that the bullshit has reached our cardboard shores and is invading the hobby we love.

It started simply enough. Walking up to a table, I smiled and said to the old guy (it’s depressing that even though my immediate thought was “old,” he’s probably only a year or two older than I am...ugh!!)), “I’m cheap. Please tell me you have some piles of seriously discounted vintage I can look through?” He chuckled and said (as he pointed), “Ha!! Honesty goes a long way with me. Don’t have much, but check that box over there when he’s done with it. I’ll give you a deal.” That was it. The most simple and straightforward reply ever, right?

Wrong!! Apparently, it was a trigger to unleash outrage, because the college-aged manboy twerp of an a-hole he had pointed to stopped looking through the cards and practically screamed at him, “My pronouns are “THEY”!!!!!!!”

In the stunned silence that followed, my brain told me I had a couple of options to have the dealer’s back. Do I take the grammatical route and state that “they” is only a single pronoun, so why in f*ck did he use the plural term “my pronouns are”??? But instead, I started loudly calling back to the dealer (who didn’t deserve this woke BS) as many words denoting “male” as I could quickly think of in rapid-fire succession, “Do you mean the bin in front of HIM?? HE still has a long way to go with it. This fine SIR still has a ton of cards to go through. Should I ask HIM if HE’S done yet??” Turning to this twerpy a-hole of a f*ck, I said, “My MAN, are you almost done??”

It was so obvious that this twerp-ass version of a ‘Karen’ spends his days looking for any chance he can get to spew this insanity, because the “they” bullet was sitting in the chamber waiting to be fired.

He and his friend stormed off all butt hurt from being called out on their bullshit. As is often the case, you later think of things you should’ve said. Were it to happen again (sadly, it will), next time I’m going to call out, “That’s right, go home to mommy!!! Remember, SHE’s the one who DOESN’T have a f*cking PENIS!!!”

The dealer bemoaned that he can’t believe what’s happened to the world and, “I try to stay away from the mentally ill.” Going for a laugh to ease the tension, I offered the trite, “You do realize that every single collector, myself included, is mentally ill, right?? No normal person would enjoy this crap.”

It only elicited a sad, half-hearted chuckle, but I tried. It’s the thought that counts.


8. Airport Conveyances and the Common Man or Fly Walk the Friendly Skies Aisles.
Being held at an airport hotel again, this show made me realize how great it’d be if they would deploy some of the fine airline industry technology to improve the lives of showgoers. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if moving walkways or ‘people-movers’ were installed down the middle of the rows/aisles across the entire show floor?? Imagine if you will, all the aimlessly-wandering, lookie-loo, aisle-clogging impediments being automatically pushed forward and out of your way so as not to continually and cluelessly block the paths and keep you from getting to where you wanted to go?

It’s only a dream, but ‘tis a really lovely dream.


9. Interesting Eavesdrop (But I wasn’t frickin’ eavesdropping!!)
There’s a dealer who’s set up at every conceivable show out here, with his main draw being the various large bins of stars proclaiming “50% OFF Marked Prices!!!!” (what I derisively call ‘Bogus Halfsies,’ because cutting the godawfully high prices in half does nothing). A friend of his was borrowing his ear to seek input on his attempt to start a new grading company. (They both made quite a few indirect references to his family’s money and whatnot, so the guy seems to have a few bucks to throw around.)

His idea is to assemble a bunch of serious hobbyists (cardboarderati?) to use as official graders of vintage cards. It was strange, because as he was talking about financial specifics, he kept hushing his voice and looking around to make sure no one was listening...but I was right in front of him, literally the depth of the tabletop away. Am I invisible??? Was I “Griffin” in H. G. Wells’ fantastical tale?? Felt like waving my arms around and saying, “Helloooooooooo!!!!! Can you NOT see me???????” The whole thing was just plain weird.

He wants to beta test his idea by removing cards from their slabs and having trusted hobbyists (like the dealer he was conversing with) grade each one and submit their findings, along with notes explaining why/how they arrived at the numbers they did. It would allow him to compare everyone’s findings, and see how in line the grades were with what the TPGs originally deemed the cards to be.

He kept trying to turn it into a Lincolnian (is that a word?) pursuit by repeating a few times how it would be "of the collectors, by the collectors and for the collectors."

My immediate thought was, “Wouldn’t ‘Honest Abe’ see this type of cronyism grading as ‘dishonest,’ since unwarranted higher grades would likely result in order to make the self-interested owners’ cards worth more??” But, alas, they didn’t ask for my input due to the cloak of invisibility I was apparently draped in. Too bad.


10. The Card's in the Cradle and the Silver Spoon
Collectors on net54 are always discussing the ‘health’ of the hobby and how they love seeing the younger generation taking the reigns and driving it forward. Honestly, that stuff means nothing to me, but I still had quite a strange realization. As I overheard a young boy negotiating at a modern cards table behind me (you couldn’t help BUT overhear, because his very high and squeaky voice pierced the air), he ended his part of the negotiation with (his serious and businesslike tone unmistakeable), “Okay, what’s the absolute lowest you can go on this card for me?”

WHOA!! I realized this kid sounded EXACTLY like a younger version of me!! Like a younger version of us all!!

A tear practically came to my eye, and all I could hear in my head was Harry Chapin’s rueful lamentation:
“And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me”


11. But Wanna Feel Even Older??
Another kid trying to sell stuff to a dealer said, “I got some really old cards for you to look at.”

He replied, “What do you have?”

“Some early Mike Trouts.”

Allow that to sink in, won’t you? EARLY Mike Trouts. A quick look at Wikipedia shows Mr. Trout started in the MLB in 2011, barely over a decade ago...and he was only born in 1991!!!! That was just a blink of an eye ago, but this guy acted as if his career had begun in the 19th century.

Early Mike Trout cards are considered REALLY OLD by younger people???????

Might be time for me to double up on my Geritol tonight.


12. Mom Told Me Decimal Points Were Supposed to be Our Friends

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All card show prices are mystifying, but some card show prices are more mystifyingly mystifying than others.

Someone had a 1961 Topps #579 Willie Mays All-Star PSA 7 OC which was on display as the centerpiece (offcenterpiece?) of his showcase and it was listed for an astounding $4000.00. Yes, three zeros separated the four from the faraway decimal point. It had the obligatory “High Number!!!!” on it in an attempt (I guess) to explain his ‘perfectly reasonable’ price.

Since there was no comma present, I thought it was maybe possible that he unknowingly added an extra zero when he was clicking away on his price gun?? However, that theory quckly fell by the wayside, since even a $400.00 price on such a card is super bonkers.

Tell me, how would you even ask the seller if he had any wiggle room on such a price? You would need something along the lines of the ***LOCAL REFERENCE ALERT*** 1906 San Francisco earthquake’s (estimated) 7.9 magnitude to even begin to make such a ridiculously towering price wiggle.


13. Time Lapse Showtography
And speaking of pricing, every single one of us knows how ridiculously high the prices are at shows, and we bitch and moan about it religiously. It’s our God-given right as collectors.

Since the vast majority of the dealers out here (everywhere?) have the exact same cards with the exact same stupid prices at every single show, maybe it’s time for an experiment. To prove nothing changes, maybe we should start taking pictures of their displays at each outing and see what percentage (gotta be close to 100%) of the same cards still remain in their cases at the next show and the show after, and so on. It would be like taking a picture of New York City from 100 years ago and comparing it to one taken today, and NOTHING has changed (except for it being in color, not black and white)!!!!!


14. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to delete it.
While a couple of friends were discussing a 1968 Roger Maris one of them was thinking of buying, it became obvious the other guy (in his mid-thirties if he was a day) had absolutely no idea who Maris was. His blank stare seemed to indicate he may not have ever heard the name before. Outfitted in a weathered Giants hat and holding vintage cards, it would appear to anyone that he ‘knew’ baseball, but his friend kept trying to get a reaction out of him by saying things like, “On the Yanks with Mickey Mantle??,” “Two MVPs??,” “You know, the home run guy?? Sixty one??,” to try to jog his memory. But the response was, “I thought that was that Aaron guy??” Yes, he said “that Aaron guy.” So he probably knows nothing about ‘Hammerin’ Hank’ either.

I honestly don’t ever recall being around a grown baseball fan who had no clue who Roger Maris was.


15. The (Send Away) Good, The (Send Away) Bad and The (Send Away) Ugly
And finally, amid the tidal wave of table-hoppers trying to sell their cards to dealers, you got used to the polite, and not so polite, ways dealers would rebuff these merchants. One guy showed three distinctly different ways of ‘ridding’ his table of sales reps...

1) Someone brought over a box of vintage stuff and said he got an offer of $3,100 for the lot and asked if he would be willing to offer more. The dealer started going through the cards while punching up numbers on his calculator to arrive at what he felt he could reasonably sell the lot for. He concluded the slabbed cards didn’t have enough rock solid value and the ungraded stuff was in rough shape, so it wouldn’t be worth the fees to get them graded, and he’d have to sell them as is. “I wouldn’t be able to sell everything for the amount they offered you, so the deal they gave you is good.” He followed up with, “You don’t know me, so go over to that guy (pointing to the ubiquitous dealer I mentioned in the ‘I Wasn't Eavesdropping’ section) for a second opinion. He’s always buying. Ask him if he wants to beat the offer. I can guarantee he won’t, so you’ll see I’m being straight with you.”

Quite the professionalism on display.

2) Another intrepid young salesman interrupted (rude!) to ask if he’d be interested in his modern cards. This time the dealer said, “You know, that stuff just isn’t right for me, but it’s right down my buddy Joe’s alley, so you should ask him.” Rising to scan the floor, he pointed toward a heavily trafficked corner of the venue and softly ushered the kid away with, “Yeah, I think he’s over there. Definitely go see him. Good luck!”

I inquired, “Does your friend really have a table over there?” His reply made me (literally) LOL. “I don’t think I actually know anyone named Joe, but it’s one of the most popular names ever. Somebody over there at one of those tables must be named Joe, right??”

Ha!! I guess there are only so many times you can politely shoo away people before deciding it’s time to expedite the process. Sometimes I lay awake at night laughing, thinking about that guy on an endless quest to find a table manned by a mythical seller with “Joseph” on his birth certificate.

3) Lastly, I have no idea what preceded it, but some guy bolted from his table all upset and pushing through the crowd as he tightly grasped his small case of cards with both hands, and loudly howled, “I refuse to be held hostage!!!!!!”

Yowza!! No one had any clue what elicited such a reaction, and it was a very uncomfortable aftermath. The good news is a bunch of us got a good laugh out of it, which is nice!!

So, to end my day at the show, I leaned in and said, “For a laugh, you should prominently tie a yellow ribbon around something in your booth!”




Until next time, my fellow collectors!! If you see Joe, give him my best.

[Exhibitman]

Your show reports and my show reports on my Substack should go bowling together. Nice work.

[JollyElm]

Originally, I was going to entitle this excerpt
“Same Sh*t, Different Show,”
because that's exactly what it seemed to be...but in the end it turned into a far cry from the usual card show experience!!!!

So, (Spoiler alert) throw your keys into the bowl and come on in, won't you?


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This here is a long read, indeed, because instead of being observations, this one is made up almost entirely of interactions with sellers, as I was attempting to see what I could learn about their mindset. So your patience is appreciated...and maybe a giggle or two will result??


Here’s what I (Foreshadow alert: hazily) walked away with...



1. With Price Guns Ablazing
I decided to face ‘Snakebelly Pricers’ (dealers who refuse to put price tags in plain sight on slabs and holders, but instead ‘hide’ them on the undersides) head on to specifically ask about their use of this tactic. Thankfully, there weren’t too many of them, but in the end, a pair of most enlightening conversations stood out:

a) Snakebelly Viper
This venomous man began (with a deliberate pronunciation of each and every syllable),
“My friend, if you are needing to see the prices on my inventory, then you are undoubtedly at the wrong table.”

Gee, tell me how you really feel, kind sir. Nothing there to take personally, no. Fighting the urge to laugh and say, “Man, you’re a dick!!,” I put on a fake smile and listened as he continued,

“With me, it’s a prestige thing. I keep my display case in order with all cards oriented entirely in right angles, with equal spacing between the pieces (See that? His pedantic use of the museum-esque “pieces” to describe frickin' 1973 Topps Rollie Fingers and Carlton Fisk cards??). Very meticulous and clean for discerning collectors (Here’s where I thought, “Discerning?? Well, I’m out. My stuff’s crammed in piles of toploaders inside a dusty Safeway bag in the closet.”), it’s all about the presentation. My customers are in the upper income categories, and I refuse to have it any other way. They know they are buying quality cards from me and the vagaries of pricing mean nothing.”

(I got the feeling that following the show, this pretentious gentleman would arrive at his country club precisely at 6 PM on the button to sip sherry with his haughty cohorts while debating if he should tip the waiter a ‘generous’ 5% or stick with his usual 4%.)

To say I thought, “WOW!!!” is an understatement, so I decided to try to have a little fun. “What about collectors who have money to spend, but want to get a decent “BARGAIN” (I knowingly stressed the heck out of that word for effect)??”

His eyes flew open wide and he practically gasped, as if to say, “A good price?? What cheeky effrontery is this????!!!” His cold stare (stay tuned: not the last time I was to be stared at this day) informed me he didn’t want to play any more, so I politely took my leave.

As I moved on, I DID notice there were no empty gaps left between his perfectly aligned cards, so I doubt he actually sold anything yet. Pity.


Although the rank smugness of this guy made me want to stop interacting with people, I ventured forth anyway...


b) Snakebelly Cobra
The other dealer was very open about his pricing strategy, and told me that practically the entire time he’s behind the table at a show, he is defending his prices against the ‘phone army,’ so he never wants to lose a tactical advantage. Like a cobra rising to display an impressive hood, I saw it more or less as a defense mechanism to ward off problematic visitors.

“When I had my prices showing, no one ever came up asking about a card without knowing exactly how much the last 5 or 10 sold for on eBay, so they were loaded and ready to start arguing about what’s on my sticker. It makes me angry, because how many times can I explain the costs involved in setting up at a show - table fees, insurance, food and travel, my time, etc.?? I guess you have to pay a little more for the show experience and for the actual touch and feel of the cards, since it’s live and in person, and not eBay on a computer.

“Now, with my prices NOT showing, just the act of asking me what my price is starts a conversation and opens a door for a possible sale. And usually when I say, ‘If you’re interested, I’ll DEFINITELY work with you on the price,’ they realize there’s a lot of room for 'the give and take dance.' My prices are obviously just ‘wish prices.’ I’d be thrilled to death if someone actually said, ‘Sure, sounds good,’ but they’re purposely high so I can be ‘talked’ - (laughing) I don’t ever actually let myself be talked into anything - down a bit on the price. It’s built in, and I think everyone knows that, right?”

I said, “How do you combat someone who says he can pull out his phone and get one cheaper on eBay right now. Besides the ‘you don’t have to wait to get it, you can walk home with it right now’ angle, how do you get over that hurdle?”

“If it’s worth it to me enough, I’ll try to get closer to the eBay price and see if they bite, but generally there’s nothing I can do and I’m dead in the water.”

Then he admitted, “My wife tells me I need to lower my prices, because you can’t take it with you...but she snickers when she says that, so I have a feeling she can’t wait to take IT - my collection - with HER to a pawn shop and use the money to run away to Hawaii with her boyfriend.”

Whoa...that was quite the unexpected end to our convo...and it was followed by a very long and uncomfortable silence...so, I humbly thanked him and wished him well with (more about his wife than anything else), “Ummm...good luck to you!”

A rueful quote I always remember from the movie “Singles” comes to mind, “Love disappears, baby!!”


2. The 49ers and the Gold Crush Redux
I hate the San Francisco 49ers.

There was a middle-aged (Damn, if I actually called her that, she woulda whooped me good!!) woman and her husband at a booth selling all sorts of SF 49ers and Giants gear, so I approached her to talk about the experience I had at the previous show (see “5. Glut Reaction or The 49ers and the Gold Crush” in Post #64). Unlike the monstrosity at the referenced show, this was a single table set-up, so her eyes clearly weren’t on some huge, pie-in-the-sky prize.

As always in these situations, I immediately stated how my heart (pathetically) lies with my New York teams, so I wasn’t a customer, but wanted to ask how sales were going.

“Not too bad, actually, and it’s still early, so who knows what the day will bring. Sometimes, it gets exciting!!!!,” she said with an electrifying grin on her face. (If anyone is looking for a marketing rep, this lady is your golden goose!!) “We sell the usual things, but the somewhat odd stuff is what makes or breaks the day for us. I sell a shirt here, a cap (Editor’s note: I’ve never been a fan of saying “cap,” and always prefer “hat”) there, but the sales of these ‘unique’ (you could hear the air quotes in her voice) things, especially the kid-oriented stuff, is what makes a show a winner or loser for us.”

I chimed in with, “So, you’re ‘knick-knacking’? Have you sold more of that stuff lately, because I see a lot more children at these things these days.”

She smiled, “Knick-knacking? Ooh, I like that! Yes, definitely. I have two boys and a girl, so I know the drill. When kids come to my table, they begin ‘Please, Momming’ their mommas to death to buy them some goodies, so I stay silent and don’t interrupt...and just let the battle rage (giggling as she said it). As a fellow mom, I know I should jump in and help her out by silencing the kids with the old ‘the grown-ups need to talk now’ thing, so their efforts would be stopped cold...but the business owner in me...????”

I said, “Needs to let her kids rip her to shreds until she’s too weak to fight back, and she’ll buy something from you to shut the little brats up??,” which led to her pointing an oddly larger than expected finger at me as she said, “Bingo!”

“Coming from a huge family, I know the drill too," I offered. "My brothers and sisters and I were like Navy SEALs when it came to conducting special operations against my mom.”

After relating to her the story of the guy from the last show (referenced above), she mockingly said, “Oh, he was SAD, was he??!! Poor baby. Bet you he didn’t tell you how large his sales were LEADING UP to the Super Bowl, did he? A funny omission that. He definitely raked in a lot of money during the playoffs. We’re small and still made a killing. This town was going nuts for anything with a Niners logo on it!!”

I said, “And how are 49ers sales now?”

Flashing the universal hand sign of a “big, fat zero,” she told me, “Nobody has gotten over it (the Super Bowl loss) yet, so it’s all Giants stuff now and we’re doing pretty good with it...plus a little bit of the A’s and Yankees things, like these rings.”

"Wait," I said, “it’s only San Francisco/Oakland teams, but you sell Yankees gear, too??”

She stated matter of factly, “The Yankees are universal, darling. But you know what the worst part of all of it is?? It’s not that we lost the Super Bowl, but we lost it to Taylor Swift!! It got to the point where the only thing anyone was interested in was who could name the idiots sitting with her in her dumb luxury box! That just added too much insult to the injury!!!”

I hate the San Francisco 49ers. (But rather enjoy personable ladies who sell their merch.)


3. Miscalibrated Outrage Machine or “You’re Nuts!!!...Wait, You Mean It’s ME Who’s Nuts???”
This is the San Francisco Bay Area (For the holy love of crap, can they just STOP completely overusing the word “Bay” in everything!! The country has a million recessed, coastal bodies of water which are directly connected to larger main bodies of water, so why do they insist the bay out here is the only one that effin’ counts???!!! GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!), so Willie Mays is as popular in these parts as that Loch-dwelling cryptid is in Scotland. He stands alone, and thus his card prices are always draped in greatly inflated price stickers. It’s like how your wife foolishly pretends she thinks of you as a stone-cold, manly-man, stud of a 10...when every other girl on the planet immediately dismisses you as a hard 3 at best (no offense, all men should be respected for the entirety of their being and not solely on looks).

The point is, the ridiculous overpricing of Mays cards is a religion out here, so if you don’t feel like putting a hiked-up ‘Say Hey’ offering into the collection basket, you gotta move past the cases and find comfort in the bargain bins instead. However, when an example of overextremificational (new word) pricing catches your eye - a price tag seemingly issued by an absolute psychopath of a lunatic - you do what any normal person would do. You quickly grab your camera and snap a picture of it in order to reap the laughs from your fellow collectors in a thread entitled, “Observations from the Card Show Front Lines,” so I did just that...and laugh, I did!!!

Twenty three hundred bones for a 1962 Mays in ‘merely’ a 7????? That is hilarious lunacy!!!! What is this dealer thinking????


1962mays300overpriced.jpg


To really open the guffaw gates and let the laughter flow, I decided I should post prices from recent sales to use as a comparison and emphasize how crazily out of touch this guy’s idiotic $2,300 price was. (Editor’s note: here’s where our story takes a dark turn.)

Visiting PSA’s ‘Auction Prices Realized’ site (yes, these aren’t CSG slabs and prices, but the point is the same), I clicked on the listing of 7s from past auctions and fully intended on seeing sold prices ranging from $200 to maybe $350, but...
(with apologies to Clement Moore), “When what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a bunch of sales with prices shockingly dear!!!!”

With the most recent sale being from over a year ago, the last five PSA 7s have sold for an astounding:
$2,325
$3,049
$1,875
$2,172
and $2,520!!!

Holy mother of crap!!!! This meant that the absolute psychopath of a lunatic’s asking price was in line with ‘normal’ show pricing. What???? The realization is a hard one, but perhaps ’tis I that is the lunatic.

I have no idea what sets the value of that Mays apart from his other cards from the 60’s (centering?), but there is a starkly different spike in pricing for that particular card.

Lesson learned. Sometimes it’s wrong to try to use humor as a weapon.


4. My Brush with Great(deals of money)ness
I kept asking dealers, “What’s the coolest thing that’s happened to you at a show?,” but it became pretty obvious early on that I was just hearing talking points about the joy they felt by making collectors’ dreams come true. Barf!!

However, one guy was different...

This smiling, delightful man said, “Well, it wasn’t at a show, but if you want to know about my coolest experience ever...you have Google, right? Type in ‘Dale Ball and Babe Ruth,’” as the smile lighting up his face grew even larger.

(Honesty alert: being weary from the day and not wanting my ungainly fingers messing up the past sales data site I was relying on, I only made a pretense of typing in the search bar, so I really do owe him an apology.)

Waiting a moment, I said, “Oh there it is...Babe Ruth. That’s huge!!” Basically, I said nothing. The “That’s huge!!” utterance was nothing but the laying down of a verbal welcome mat to invite him in to tell his story.

Jumping in, he regaled me with his experience of landing a multi-million dollar 1921 Shotwell Babe Ruth card, and what an incredible find it was as he found himself all over the news. “I got my ‘15 minutes’ (of fame).” The guy working the table with him was happily nodding along as he told the story, and the comic book vending lady at the next booth was also proudly smiling. They clearly really like him. Bitterly thinking to myself, “Million dollar cards never fall into my lap...heck, $25 cards never fall into my lap,” I wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to get a full grasp of how the story ended. But upon arriving home later, I actually DID search out “Dale Ball and Babe Ruth” and found a bunch of stories about his find.

Here (hopefully) are a couple of links:
https://abc7news.com/babe-ruth-baseb...-rare/5223767/
https://abc30.com/babe-ruth-baseball...-ball/5300382/

Doing a search of Net54 to actually find specific info can be quite the drag, but I was able to locate an old thread asking about his company, Big Baller Auctions, and another one where I was very surprised to find some people weren’t taking too kindly to him...or were they referring to an idiot ‘journalist’ (air quotes) in one of the stories? Not really sure, but here’s that link, too:
https://www.net54baseball.com/showthread.php?t=265493

Since his tale was all about him and a multi-million dollar card, I said, “How about striking a pose with the cheapest card you have available instead,” so a two buck 1968 Jimmie Hall it was, and snap away I did...


daleballbaberuth.jpg


I didn’t spend that much time at his table, but found him to be a real nice guy who was constantly talking about how happy he was with all the free giveaways he gives to children who visit his booth or store (the other two people were nodding along again with respect). And with a smile on his face, he basically allowed me to name my price for his 1973 Topps ‘Goose’ Gossage rookie card I had asked about. I unashamedly lowballed him, and the deal was struck without hesitation. He was kind as heck and did me a solid, so he's great to me.


And to (ummm...sort of) keep the good vibes coming...


5. Sometimes, the Good Guy Wins...or Maybe He’s Just Inviting You to a ‘Key Party’?? Not Really Sure.
I spotted an affable-enough looking dealer who I'd never seen before, so asking him, “I know this is a job, so leave that aspect out...for you, what’s the best part of doing a show?” he happily replied, “Meeting you!! If you buy some cards, my wife and I will buy you and your girl a beer tonight!,” as his wife smiled at me.

(In my head, I had the same inescapable fear that every one of us vintage collectors has from time to time, “A beer with me and MY GIRL? Is this dealer trying to turn me into a swinger??”)

Trying to shake off those thoughts, I responded, “Don’t try using your personality on me to get me to buy stuff, Buck-o!!!”

He added, “The best thing to happen at a show is here, today. Right now. I’m just filling in at the last minute for a friend of mine who had a health scare, so I didn’t have any time to plan or arrange anything. Just grabbed a bunch of stuff and filled up his case...and here we are.”

“Oh, I hope he’s okay. How’d you do?”

A beaming reply, “I basically sold everything!! We smashed it!! That’s why the case is so empty, nothing but the black felt to see. I don’t have a clue why it happened, but the latter-day (modern?) cards flew off the shelves right from the start and people have been picking at the bones ever since. What a day!!” (And his wife’s smile now grew from ear to ear.)

Looking at my want list, I saw that I needed a couple of 1954 Bowman commons in sick shape that remained atop his otherwise empty case. Making him an offer, and being out of cash, I asked if PayPal was cool. He said, “We can’t take anything other than cash and thank God, my wife’s Venmo. I just assumed I wouldn’t sell a goddamn thing today!! (his wife nodding vigorously), so we weren’t ready at all. No credit cards or anything else. We thought we’d just sit here for a few hours and go home none the richer, but we cashed in!!,” as his infectious jubilation lit up the place!!

I said, “Okay, I gotta call my girlfriend to pick me up in a bit, so I can ask her to bring me some cash. Can you hold those two cards for me??” Both he and his wife nodded knowingly at the mention of my girlfriend...and he said, “Sure thing. Can’t wait to meet her,” and the fear returned again...”Can’t wait to meet her?? Why is he bringing her up again?? Whuh?? I just wanted to buy some cards...not be lured into some afternoon delight kind of girl-swapping!!” But then again, who am I to avoid new experiences...


6. Invasion of the ‘Tiger Mom’
(Yes, ‘Tiger Mom’ is a stereotype, just like a stereotypical ‘Jewish mother’ is, but the term itself was coined by an Asian professor, Amy Chua. So do with that what you like.)

Sometimes a look from a woman is the best thing ever, while other times it is the exact opposite...

I first came across the fivesome in the lobby - a group of happy children all smiling and bursting with enthusiasm as they waited for mom to pay the lady, so they can get their wristbands and go into the show. (Spoiler alert: their mood changes.)

My entrance fee paid and looking to get my bearings, I began by taking a recon lap around the floor and through all of the modern tables to determine where the vintage guys were hiding out. In doing so, I ran into the group from the ticket table again - an ultra-intense lady holding court with her four children.

Picture if you will, a clock face, with the ‘Dragon Lady’ (not going to apologize for that description, because I swear she was breathing fire as she scared the hell out of me!!) situated at 12 O’Clock and her four kids completing the circle in front of her, spaced evenly out and intently focused on her as she roared (get it, ‘Tiger’ mom??) out instructions. I slid past them and it was no big deal.

However, time and again afterwards, everyone just kept getting blocked by this quintet as they kept clogging up the short, two-table length lanes nestled between the aisles (for my New York brethren, they were set up on the shorter section of street which horizontally connects one long avenue to another) and refusing to move, like this woman had reserved these sections as staging areas for her group alone.

Froms the bits and pieces of conversations I kept picking up each time I encountered them, it was quite clear that she wasn’t some doting parent taking her joyful brood to a card show, she was more like an economics professor conducting a Money Management 101 lecture as she and her ‘students’ walked the halls of the university. She was pushing her enrollees, whoops, I mean children, to attain lofty levels of achievement and success in the high reward activity of negotiating for (what I assume were) Pokémon cards, or the like.

One exchange went like this:

To her son, “Hey!! Stop!! What did I tell you??!!...WELL??”
Obeying her command, he came to a halt and muttered something I couldn’t hear.
“Tell me what your mistake was!”
Again something was mumbled.
“You NEVER say YES right away!! What is wrong with you??!!”

This lady was no taller than the ottoman in front of your TV, but obviously wielded the power of a hundred (random history reference) Ottoman tribal chieftains, and It’s fair to say she didn’t give a flying ‘F’ who heard her, as it was impossible NOT to hear her reprimanding her progeny. Self-doubt is not an issue with this woman, and her children were now slumped over and wearing the beaten down faces of the truly unhappy, a far cry from how their outing began an hour or two ago.

At the very same time she was chastizing her son, she turned to the dealer and told him exactly how much he was going to sell the card for.
Holding out a crisp Hamilton, she stated, “He’s giving you $10 for it. That’s it!!” It was not a question, it was a foregone conclusion. As if in a hypnotic trance, the seller slowly and involuntarily held out the card and took the tenner from her hand.

I was able to snap a quick photo of her during the transaction...


dragonfireflames.jpg


A bit later, after we all were forced to stop for the umpteenth time, because they were again blocking everyone from getting through, I shot her what could only be described as a loud (can a look be loud??) and obligatory “WTF, lady, can you make room for other people??!!” glare of disdain.

BIG MISTAKE...HUGE!!!!

Immediately locking on to my pupils with her fiery eyes, her enraged stare-back pierced my soul. Her eyes chilled me to the bone and shattered my spirit into a million pieces of broken glass. I hyperbolize not (well, okay, maybe a little). But, not one to back down from a staring contest (and always ready to fight for the rights of showgoers to have easy access to the tables they want to visit) (gee, you got a bit of a hero-complex, don’tcha??), I steeled my nerves, locked my eyes onto hers and refused to look away...and stare back I did...but...

POOF!!

...the next thing I knew, I was slowly and groggily coming out of an intense, stuporous fugue, shaking my head and trying to wake up from the mesmerization and get my bearings back. And as I looked around, I saw the room was dark and empty, with the only other presence being a man sweeping the floor. Many hours had passed since the show had ended, and I was still standing where I was when this momentous contest of wills had begun, having no clue where the time went or what had transpired. Clearly, that wasn't a staring contest with a mom, it was a staring contest with an evil, supernatural entity!!!

Looking down on the floor, I was frightened to discover a ring of five separate and detached wristbands encircling me...




Until next time, my fellow fire mouth breathing collectors!!

[ALBB]

Man, that is some funny stuff!

[jp1216]

Great read! Thank You!