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Another outstanding installment, thanks for sharing.
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It's that special time of year again...the time for a show out here in the wild west!!
Warning: listening to 'Stairway to Heaven' on an endless loop will take less time than reading this nonsense. Another day, another show to evaluate... judygarlandtrolleysonglyrics.jpg 1. Pelicantankerous Okay, this thread has already discussed youngsters (Youngsters? How freaking old did I get?) trying to sell their stuff to dealers at their tables, but this show had a tsunami of hawkers flooding (see what I did there?) the tables with pushes to buy their ‘valuable’ (read as “non-valuable”) cards. You know those times when you enter a room and it has a clock that is audibly ticking away each and every second (“CLICK”...wait a second...”CLICK”...)?? Well, there are two types of people in the world, those who aren’t even aware of it, and those who want to claw out their ears to make it stop!!! (I am the latter.) A new word needs to be invented, because simply saying it was non-stop doesn’t even come close to describing the constant “SNAP!! SNAP!!...SNAP!! SNAP!!” of the Pelican cases (one guy told me his is the 1300 model) at this show - the unceasing opening and closing everywhere across the rooms. The older guys were trying to sell things like a complete set of pretty worn out 1974 A’s Topps cards (“It doesn’t have the Reggie or Catfish.”) for $200 (what a bargain!!!), while seemingly every single kid hit the tables with a quick opening of their case followed by a lunge forward to ask, “What will you give me for this?” I never even saw anything these tykes were trying to get rich off of, because they were always rejected so quickly that my optical nerve couldn’t possibly process it in time. They usually came in teams of two, all happy and with their feet pointed outward, immediately ready to dart on to the next table to seek the fortune they so richly deserve. For someone cruising the floor and looking for good stuff to buy, it is beyond annoying dealing with the constant SNAP clamor...but when you realize that virtually every dealer has a large sign stating in all-caps, “BUYING!!!!” it becomes just a normal and expected thing for anyone working a table. (That is a frickin’ lie!! Normal, my ass!! I used to dream of hot girls in my sleep, but now it’s nothing but the perpetual “SNAP!! SNAP!! SNAP!! SNAP!! SNAP!! SNAP!!” of cases in my After asking a dealer if he ever got presented with sweet stuff from any of these hawkers, he told me, “You know how on Halloween you end up at the door of the old lady who only gives out little boxes of raisins? It’s like that, but every house in your neighborhood is that old lady.” (I actually wasn’t sure what to do with that analogy, because I love raisins.) 2. Is it Free or Flee Parking?? You would think a show at a hotel abutting an airport would have an endless supply of parking spots for attendees to use. Although the show was advertised as “FREE PARKING!!” (presumably to assuage those of us who found the $10 entry fee obnoxious), the small parking area was filled to capacity, and your only hope of grabbing a spot was by circling around and waiting for someone to actually flee the venue. Thankfully, I got dropped off and avoided this annoyance entirely, but there were a lot of people grumbling. 3. Circular Attritionary Logic Something dawned on me as I was making my way around the tables. With fewer and fewer vintage cards being seen at shows nowadays, the prices (as always) were stupidly high, but it kind of makes sense in a twisted logic sort of way. Since vintage is doing a vanishing act, and completely ceding ground to the modern stuff, dealers kind of need to prevent people from buying their offerings, so they will still have vintage inventory left to bring to the next show...otherwise they’d have nothing to display. Sounds stupid, sure, maybe, but I’d like to think it would be a fundamentally sound concept under New Keynesianism Economics. 4. Unwelcome Visitors You know how you get stuck and hemmed-in behind a mother slowly pushing her stroller around a store or on a sidewalk, and she doesn’t seem to think anyone else on the planet exists except for her darling bundle of joy (please, no complaints from you guys married to these types of women, you know this is true), and your progress forward is stymied as you can’t get past her?? Well, guess what, now these ladies are going to baseball card shows. This was a first for me, but there were a few of them following their husbands through the extremely cramped spaces between tables. The throngs just kept getting stuck behind these mothers (or should I say muthah effers?) as they cluelessly clogged up every aisle with their large contrivances as their husbands examined whatever the hell they were looking at now. Not a one had any interest in cards as they blocked everyone’s way, they were only waiting on their husbands. The frustrated looks on people’s faces as they were trying to find a way out of these constant stalemates was priceless. I’m pretty sure many are destined to find themselves in anger management classes before the week is done. I’m going on Friday. Perhaps it’s time for promoters to install a sign next time to dissuade this activity: dangernochildrensm.jpg 5. Set Collector Dinosaurism Sadly, the days of working on set building at shows apparently seems to be nearing an end. There was an absolute lack of set year commons boxes to root through found anywhere across the floor. Nothing. A big bummer for anyone looking for a crisp 1967 Nellie Briles to check off of his list. 6. Talk is It seems that the dealers with the most to say are the ones with the most expensive prices on their cards. I frickin’ love interacting with whomever (ten points for grammar there!) I can at these things, but sometimes want to scream, “Less talking and more price reductions!!!!!!” I was having a conversation (if by conversation you mean a guy going off on a thousand different disjointed baseball card tangents one after the other without pausing a micro-second to allow you to join in), when I saw something I’ve never seen at a show before. He had a small stack of ungraded 1971 Topps Greatest Moments cards in his case. By asking to see them, I apparently gave him license to immediately regale me with countless stories about how absolutely rare they are (Yes, I frickin’ know!!) and how he had to walk the floor of The National for years just to land the priceless gems he now has on display. If he paused for even a moment, he could’ve actually learned something from someone who has a cargo hold full of knowledge about the set (I used this a bit to my advantage later in the show. Check out The Roberto Clemente Escape Room section below), but alas, he did not. Practically screaming how rare they are, he was decidedly unhappy with my reaction to his price tags of $300 on each one (except for Sal Bando, which had a frigid $400 sticker attached to it as a nod to this being A’s country). I would’ve simply said, “Look, each and every one of the cards in your stack is a double print. Every auction on eBay is for one of these guys. You even have two each of Sam McDowell and Nate Colbert, arguably the most listed cards from the set. And ones that are graded in nice shape - 6s or 7s - go for a fraction of what your prices are...and yours all have rounded, whitened corners. They should be in your ‘bargain bin’!!!!” But what I said instead was, “Sorry, I got those already.” 7. Randomly Funny Moment There is something odd about public bathrooms in California (not sure if it’s like this elsewhere). Whenever you’re at a venue outfitted with only one or two urinals, they seem to always be situated basically at ground level, way down there and almost on the floor itself. Not sure if this is a result of some sort of statute (perhaps to assist handi-capable people?), but my guess is it allows young children to step up and take a whiz without needing their dad to hold them up to do their business (like it was when I was growing up)?? So every time I need to see a man about a horse, I feel like some sort of towering beast looming over the city below as I (add whatever strange way of saying “piss” you’d like here). I’ve dubbed these Godzilla Toilets...and it’s just plain weird. 8. The Lou Gramm Effect This was an extremely crowded show held in a pair of non-attached rooms...but what a difference 30 feet makes!! As you dug through stacks of cards in one, it was like you were draped in a quilt, sitting in fuzzy slippers and casually drinking a wonderful mug of cocoa that mom prepared for you, while dad happily stoked the bustling fire in the hearth. Foreigner would’ve been gently rocking the room with, “Well, I'm hot blooded...” But, after walking down the steps and passing the reception area to visit the other half of the show, you basically arrived at The North Pole in a short sleeved shirt!! I’m pretty sure the dealers working that area used Iditarod sleds to bring in their inventory, and looking through boxes of cards was like ice fishing with Admiral Peary. I swear there were icicles hanging down from some of the ‘bargain bins’!!! Lou Gramm and company was now howling out, “You're as cold as ice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” admiralpearyscorecards.jpg 9. Dueling Collectors While scoping out a table where ***GASP ALERT*** the guy actually had a wide range of ungraded cards at decent, completely defendable prices, I was making my way through a small stack of Card Savers containing a bunch of deliciousness he had just priced and put out. Among them was a 1961 Topps Billy Williams Rookie Card in nice shape, but a bit off center, at a cheap price. It’s important to note that the other ones in similar or worse shape at the show cost a minimum of three times as much. (I refer to this as Opportunity Accost - unexpectedly coming across a card (that you may or may not need) and knowing if you don’t buy it immediately at this price, the next person who sees it will undoubtedly jump on it.) And wouldn’t you know it, a moment later a guy shows up and tells the seller that he’s interested in any HOF rookie cards he has at good prices, as he’s trying to fill a lot of holes today. Since the pile of cards I ‘rejected’ still contained a few relatively nice, but a bit problematic for me, rookies in it (Carlton Fisk, Rollie Fingers and Phil Niekro), I didn’t feel bad about NOT saying, "Here, take the Billy Williams." No way. That rookie card will soon be on its way to SGC in my next sub. Understandably, the card isn’t a life changer or anything, but it’s nice to be in the right place at the right time for once. 1961williamsrc141sm.jpg 10. Loose Lips Shoot Yourself in the Foot It’s clear that what is discussed (card secrets, insights, tips, etc.) on Net54 and other sites gets out there into the collecting world pretty darn quickly. The walls have eyes, so if you have insider knowledge about something that could benefit you, the stupidest thing you can do is make it public, because you’re allowing stangers to become profiteers off of your back. (I dubbed this Unformation - The bits of insider knowledge about specific cards or sets you’ve acquired or discovered for yourself over the years that ‘only’ you know about, so you keep these hobby secrets closely guarded to avoid hampering your ability to use them to your advantage.) Case in point: I only saw a single dealer who had any pre-war cards on display at this show, so as is all the rage these days, I casually asked him, “Do you happen to have any T206 Steve Evans cards?” (If you are unaware of the recent T206 Steve Evens (sic) phenomenon, check out the thread(s) on the main page.) He replied, “That’s really strange. Do you know you’re the second person to ask me the exact same question? It was just a little while ago? Deja vu.” Takeaway: if you put chum on a message board, don’t be surprised when the sharks start swimming. In a similar fashion, as some of us were shooting the vintage breeze at a table, someone cockily said, “Here’s a bit of trivia for you, bet you don’t know who the first black player for the Red Sox was.” He waited a moment and then with a self-satisfied look on his haughty face said, “Pumpsie Green,” like he was the king of the world. I know damn full well he only knew that tidbit due to the Pumpsie Green thread in the Net54 post-war section. Think about it. Of all the teams, why did he ask specifically about the 'Saux', and not the Cubs or Senators or Braves? Because this trivia thief poser just read it here, that's why!! 11. Viva Less Dangerous I overheard some guys in their thirties or fourties talking about the A’s moving east (Wow, how fricking long have I been out here that the far western state of Nevada (NOT pronounced “Neh-vaah-da”) is frickin’ EAST of me??????? East????? Whoa...I need to take a nap.) to Las Vegas. When I heard one of them say, “Can you blame them?? Nobody wants to take their lives in their hands going to a game in that hell town,” I unintentionally insinuated myself into the discussion by visibly reacting to his words. Looking at my head, he semi-snarkily noted, “Don’t see many blue Mets hats out here.” I wanted to reply, “Yeah, your fat ass in the obnoxious green and yellow A’s hat is really going to land you on the cover of GQ,” but instead replied with a trite, “Well, you guys stole the Dodgers and Giants from us before I was born, so I had no choice when I was growing up.” He chuckled and said, “No, that was my dad’s generation, but he’s gone now.” Okay, he seemed friendly enough, so I asked, “You don’t mind them bolting like the Raiders did?” His reply cut through all of the crap that people who don’t live here say about the move - “The owners this, the owners that.” All negative stuff. (I don’t have a horse in this race, so I know nothing about said owners, and simply don’t care about rich guys in sports.) So, what did he say? In a very serious voice, he matter of factly stated, “It’s a simple choice for my wife and me. Do I want to take my son to an A’s game...or do I want to make sure he sees his tenth birthday?” Nail on the frickin’ head moment!!!!!!!!! Quote all the stats you want, but Oakland is getting more and more dangerous by the day. Anyone riding the BART train knows the truth. Funny how that simple quality of life issue is never mentioned by the people pushing dumb narratives. 12. The Roberto Clemente Escape Room I somehow found myself unwittingly embroiled in a Bobby Riggs vs. Billie Jean King situation, and let me tell you, there are narrow escapes, and then there are narrower-er-er-er escapes. Our story begins with me examining a 1973 Topps Roberto Clemente card... There was a hot girl (no offense intended, I mean hot because she was sunburned) who was working a table show with, I assume, her husband. As I was looking the card over, she sidled over (I say ‘sidled,’ but my mind says ‘seductively crossed the crowded dance floor to lock eyes with me’) and said, “Hello...are you looking for anyone in particular?” (My horny little devil mind wanted to say, “Yes, baby, YOU!”) Here’s where I may have unintentionally made a mistake. In clearly what I thought was NOT a condescending manner, I casually reacted with, “Do you really know about all of this stuff??” (If this was a movie, everyone near me would’ve stopped what they were doing and stared at me in gaping-mouthed disbelief.) It was just a normal question to ask, but she may have thought the query was a loaded time bomb of misogyny (Or should I say Mrs-ogyny, because she's married? Thank you, I’ll be here all week.). With a quick flash of what might have been semi-shock on her face, I couldn’t tell if she thought I was actually looking for guidance or if she pegged me as a ‘typical’ guy who implied that she had no business being here...so I prepared for the shit to hit the (Mets) fan. She began, “I’m not sure, but I think I do. Take the card you’re holding. When it came out, Roberto Clemente had died the previous Christmas (Should I correct her by saying his flight was on New Year’s Eve?). That was terrible, and people still don’t know if it was too late for Topps to stop the printing, or if it was meant as some sort of tribute, because he was loved so much. The back shows he ended up with exactly 3,000 hits. Exactly. He only won the MVP once.” (I noticed she didn’t state the year, 1966. Ha! Silly girl.) “Want more? (I’m sure I was involuntarily nodding my assent.) He’s one of the greatest outfielders ever, yet besides the background on his 1956 card, you won’t find another Topps card of him playing the field (I wanted to relate that virtually the same thing occurred with Brooks Robinson, but didn’t dare). There are three cards total of him in the 1972 set - a regular, World Series and an ‘in action’ one, but none of them shows him in the outfield?? Dumb. And his 1960 card has him batting, while the inset photo also has him batting. They missed a great opportunity there (which was followed by my face and arms in a silent agreement of, “Yeah, WTF??!!”)!” “Did you know he was only on one All Star card - 1968? (Yes, I did know that bit of trivia, but said nothing. This girl was good. She was Clementally sound. Sorry, had to say it.) That’s crazy, right? So boring, too. All cheesecloth-y (weird, I’ve only ever heard it called burlap) and sideways. Imagine if they did one with the great starry background in 1958, or how about a newspaper-busting 1961 card, then we’d have something else besides his huge head shot in the set to look at.” Next, she referred back to his 1956 card, and how...”as an alternative to the 1955 rookie card, which is beyond most people’s budgets (I wanted to tell her I was lucky to own a poor one that I had found ‘hidden’ in an old box, but this wasn’t a conversation, it was an oral lambasting), you can still pick one up at a good price and it’s getting more valuable. You should buy one soon (talk about a hard sell, she was pointing to the graded one in her case). And if you want his cheaper cards, the 1967 through 1969 are perfect for you (Wait! Is she implying I look poor??). Plenty of them to be found.” At the end of this de facto lecture I was in a tough spot. Was she showing off her knowledge just to show off, as any guy or girl would do? Or was it something deeper along the lines of, “This guy doesn’t think I know baseball cards, because I’m a woman? End the patriarchy!!!!!” The easy smile on her face indicated there was probably nothing bitter hiding beneath the surface, and she was just a salesperson teaching a master class in ‘Always be closing’ through the use of Clemente, but I didn’t want to chance it. I desperately needed an out. Taking a moment to buy some time (and my mind racing like someone on ‘Survivor’ trying to solve a damn puzzle), I remarked, “Wow...you really know a lot about this guy.” (Ha ha. “This guy,” like I never heard of him before.) Then something clicked in my mind and I knew I was going to be saved. Trying to hide a big, relief-filled smile, I looked back at her and excitedly explained, “Thank God you know so much! My GIRLFRIEND sent me to this show to buy cards for her and I don’t know a thing about this stuff!” Somewhere, in the gentle breeze of the coming evening, you could hear someone declaring, “Game, set and match.” I knew I had her beat. If she thought I was some sort of ‘a woman’s place is in the home’ guy for my somewhat confused reaction to first seeing her, she was now screwed, because she was giving me that exact same reaction back. Her brain was practically screaming, “Girlfriend?? Girls don’t know anything about baseball cards!!!!” In the uneasy peace that followed, I said (pretending to be recalling from a distant memory), “She’s looking for something called a 1971 Greatest Moments Thurman Munson card in nice shape.” (I damn well knew there wasn’t one anywhere at the show.) After sadly saying she couldn’t help me on that front, I sheepishly made a quick exit, but as I did (my smart-ass side refusing to be silenced), I gleefully said, “Thanks anyway, BABE!” as a goodbye. The turn of the frickin’ screw!! Take that!! Wish I had eyes in the back of my head to see her infuriated reaction as fire was undoubtedly spitting from her eyeballs at me. Good times!! A thin escape, but an escape nonetheless. I'm not overly religious, but on the way home I gave thankful praise by lighting a candle at St. Mary’s. Until next time, my fellow
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 04-21-2024 at 03:18 PM. |
#53
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You and I think alike when it comes to the Invasion of the Stroller People. From my column about dealing at the 2nd day of the Pasadena show last month:
On Day 1 by the 10:00 VIP opening, the line for the show was out the door of the convention center and a full block down Green Street to Marengo and just around the corner. Sunday, it was just barely out the door of the building. The crowd mix was all wrong, too: the Stroller People arrived. There were dozens of them. Stroller People are death. I sold six bucks worth of cards the first hour and a half during Stroller Time. My table is a picker’s space. Buyers need time to go through the boxes. Stroller People measure their time in short bursts between toddler needs and demands. If I am lucky a Stroller Dad (yeah I will be sexist because the active collectors are basically men) has five minutes to check my table. Sure as hell at the five minute mark the airhorn blows, er the child shrieks, and off he goes. And if there is a Stroller Mom behind him watching, Stroller Dad ain’t spending a dime regardless. He can’t. She let him come to the show for an hour but that’s it. He just flips through the cards perfunctorily, looking over his shoulder at his banker, er, wife, with the look of defeat in his eyes, then walks away empty-handed. Stroller People, here is a suggestion: control your spawn. One kid, had to be about two, was like a song stuck on autoplay, except it was a high-pitched screech that would have signaled “sabertooth tiger” to early man but now is just a tantrum. If the child goes off, take it outside and let it run around. Don’t stay in the show subjecting us all to a toddler aria. We all hate opera.
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Read my blog; it will make all your dreams come true. https://adamstevenwarshaw.substack.com/ Or not... Last edited by Exhibitman; 12-15-2023 at 08:23 AM. |
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It was beyond ridiculous here.
Being only a one day show seemed to bring all of us collectors out of the woodwork, so it was jam packed (with a marked return of an overwhelming number of backpack people) everywhere, and you couldn't find a sliver of daylight to swivel through to get to the next table...yet here they were, further (and decisively) clogging everything up without a care in the world. Some had one hand on the stroller and the other one holding onto the hand of an ambulatory infant trying to escape their grasp as they bounced off the legs of people. Not a once did I hear a single, "Sorry," "Excuse me," or "Whoops! My apologies." But the hubbies are the ones to blame. These ladies didn't have a single interest in anything there and seemed to function as receptacles for whatever things their husbands bought and handed over to them in the chaos. A simple, "Darling, there's no need for you and the kiddies to come, I'll be fine on my own," would've went a long way...unless, of course, wifey responded, "On your own??? Alone??? You mean like how you went to the gym by yourself and couldn't stop hitting on Sarah, the hot physical therapist??? Is THAT what you mean by alone????!!!! I know damn well that if some lovely young thing starts showing you Roberto Clemente cards, you're going to leave me for her!!!! Just like my second husband did!!!!!!! I'm not letting you out of my sight, MISTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 12-15-2023 at 04:16 PM. |
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My most recent experience just this past Friday (in a nice bulleted format):
1 - I am not ageist as I have two kids 27 and 31, but if I see another 20 something dealer thinking they are the king of the sports card world I will vomit uncontrollably. 2 - 12 year old kids walking around with their hard plastic PSA slab filled cases tells me the hobby I have loved is going to hell. 3 - I will never be able to collect new cards. As I age, the gold inserts look like the yellow inserts, the red like pink, and the fireworks ones like the shooting stars. Give me a 1971 Reggie Jackson because there's only one of them unless you count the variety of chipping on the black edges. 4 - It's impossible to buy cards at most shows because of the reason above (I avoid new cards) and the "I would need a second mortgage" to purchase most of anything I see on the tables. 5 - Always fun to get yelled at by a dealer because I purchased cards from another customer at the show. Short story, a gentleman approached a dealer to sell some assorted early 70s baseball cards he was carrying in a plain cardboard box (important to note not a hard plastic case nor even an 800 count box). The dealer said he was holding cash for the time being due to the holidays - all very understandable. As the gentleman was leaving the table I asked if it would be possible for me to buy the cards, he said fine and we agreed on a price. The dealer that he originally approached was perfectly fine with the transaction. I move down a couple tables and a "shark" dealer seeing me carrying a plain cardboard box (which meant to him I was hard up on cash and needed to sell the cards to him) asked if I was selling. I explained that I just purchased the cards from another customer and was happy with my purchase and was not selling. He then loudly berated me for purchasing cards at the show as the dealers "paid a ton of money" to set up there and they should be the ones getting to buy cards from customers not another commoner. I tried to explain that I did not interfere with the the deal that the customer attempted to make with the first dealer but seized the opportunity when he passed on it. He contined to scold me until I finally had enough. I pulled the '73 Ryan out of the box and said something like "nice card isn't it" (one of many in the plain cardboard box). This just infuriated him more and he decided to try to beat me down further. I finally said, "I'm sorry you feel that way (I really wasn't) and then proceeded to tell him that the 1972-73 Marcel Dionne card he was proudly displaying as a rookie card, in fact, was a second year card. He, of course, doubted me as I snarkly told him that the rookie card was in the 1971-72 set (demeaningly mentioning that it was the set with the ovals and that Marcel was displayed in a head and shoulders shot not the full body shot he presented as the rookie card). His response was, "no you're wrong and I'll prove it by asking Siri while your standing here". Needless to say, that was my game, set, match discussion with this lunkhead of a dealer as he slunk back in his chair fully disappointed that I was correct. 6 - Sadly I only purchased one card from a dealer at the show. A nicely centered Fred McGriff 1986 Donruss for $2. Oh, a few of the dealers with the new shiny stuff had some in their cases but after my episode above, I did not have the heart to tell them that those 1987 versions of the Fred McGriff "rookie" is not that at all. Besides, if I counted, I would say that less than 5% of the cards at the show were vintage. And I'll even stretch vintage to the early 80s (even though I don't count them that way). 7 - Conclusion - the hobby is shifting to a place where a lot of people will be "hurt" financially with the explosion of new product and parallels, numbered cards, "rare" cosmic/flashers/rainbow 1 of 1 specials. I'd rather have a 1972-73 Bobby Orr than a 1 of 1 of some guy that likely will either be in jail or working in Walmart in 5 years. PS - Is it just me or are those Panini/Donruss unlicensed baseball cards the worst things ever? End rant...thanks |
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My most recent card show learning experience occurred this past weekend. Do not start at the table's of the vintage card sellers. This show I started at the tables of the shiny stuff sellers. Most all of these guys had some small amount of vintage....about half of them were blowing out their vintage stuff at a quarter to 50 cents on the dollar as vintage is not their specialty and they didn't want to spend additional time pricing it. I went through these boxes during the latter part of setup...snapped up all of the deals I could before most others had time to get through the boxes.
By the time I finished with the modern sellers who blow out their vintage stuff and made it to the actual vintage sellers, the vintage guys' prices seemed really inflated. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, as by the time I reached the vintage guys, I was out of money. |
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Quote:
Preach! |
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Observations from the Card Show Front Lines - UPDATED!!!
On a slow, pre-Christmas Tuesday at work in between meetings, I must say that I have found these tales and their additions and updates endlessly entertaining.
I went to my first real show in 20 years earlier this summer. I can relate to a lot of what was shared here. It’s incredible how some things don’t change - it never takes long to figure out who the dealers are that are interested in moving cards - they will look you in the eye and engage you in conversation - vs. those who have a museum containing endless Allstate display cases full of imposing looking slabs with no price tags. These remind me of the “seated dealers” I remembered as a kid at shows back in the 1980’s and early 90’s - where if you happened to be lucky enough to attract the attention of a seated dealer (who was invariably eating, smoking, or busy reading the paper or watching a portable tv…) they would amble over with an annoyed look and squint at whatever you were interested in in their case - and without fail quote you a price that was roughly 700% of the spending money you had brought that day. “What did you say, ‘high Beckett’? Kid do you know how RARE this card is…?” I must admit it was less pronounced at the one show I went to this year, but there were still a few of those characters there. The cigars and newspapers have been replaced by smart phones, but that age-old disdain is still there, and it’s not hard to spot. Ah, memories. Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
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Postwar stars & HOF'ers. Prewar, Bowman & Topps Cubs team endeavors. Last edited by jchcollins; 12-19-2023 at 11:54 AM. |
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Card Show? Are you kidding me?
I was wondering, while I was reading this, if I am an anomaly, a statistical brain fart, or just a figment of my own imagination. My last card show was in 1987. Or so.
In order to finish my ex’s job of throwing me out of the house… err, divorcing me, I sold my childhood collection to a card shop in Temple City, CA and cashed my attorney out of my life. A true two for one. I managed to keep one card worth anything - a T206 Jack Bastian - with a Piedmont back. Nice shape too. Graded by SGC about 25 years later a 4.5. When my present spouse and I bailed on SoCal to the Eastern Sierras, I got the bug and started collecting again -using post-1988 technology, the Internet, Ebay, Auction House and Net54. Quick and somewhat painless purchases, for the most part. Did y’all know there were guys selling trimmed cards on Ebay? On (Gasp!) Net54? Everywhere? Guys were altering cards, and sold one for a huge amount, founding PSA (allegedly)? Jim Rome sez if you aren’t cheating, then you aren’t trying. I’m glad Jim Everett shook his world back in the day. In the meantime, not a card show in site where California meets the Great Basin. Sure sounds like the card world today is full of shady car dealers selling to uneducated buyers - kids who have seen the BOOM cycle and are more than likely the KABOOM cycle. Card Breakers are moving from card types to different sports and back in their attempt to capture dollar opportunity. Financial hacks are speculating on card values, buying and selling in a churning feeding frenzy. I’d rather shoot craps. Seriously. The piranha are loose in the carnival. Soccer moms are accompanying their brood spending their allowance on cards. They are worth money! And Fanatics is raking in the cash, selling boxes of cards for $400 to 500 bucks and more. For who? For what? Anybody think that this is the true junk card era for modern cards? A new web site is out there to try and make sense of all this. Whatsmycardworth.com. Has value information for every sports card in the history of personkind. And so the idea of walking in aisles with thousands of individuals looking to buy the same six or so quarterback one of ones, the under-graded Local Koufax or Ted Williams card that should be a seven, at least a six…sound familiar? And who owns all the Crackerjack, Old Judge, T206, and who were all these guys? Never heard of ‘em, and besides the cards look boring and for old people and I can get a mini or three in my box of Gypsy Queen….don’t they know people follow basketball and that’s where all the cool cards and money is…not baseball. Just ask the guy on ESPN!!! My back and knees hurt. Driving 200 miles to a card show sounds like fun, but this ain’t 1980. Not sure I could handle one these days. Or that I would spend the money when The Net makes buying a bit simpler…for us old people…just my opinion. But one of these days, maybe the National…just to see the fantastic history of the game in one place, the people, the places where the game was and is played… so many reasons to attend besides buying and selling…a celebration of the game, barkers and hustlers be damned. I love baseball. Always have, always will.
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T206 154/518 second time around R312 49/50 1962 Topps 598/598 super set 694/697 ...whatever I want Last edited by drmondobueno; 01-20-2024 at 11:54 PM. Reason: Clarity |
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Just out of curiosity, was the card store that you sold your childhood collection to located in Temple City called Kenrich? Bill Colby was the owner.
Phil aka Tere1071 |
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Bill Colby used to own half of Las Tunas correct? There was another card store in Temple city on Las Tunas closer to Rosemead Blvd. I think it just said Baseball Cards. Wow, I’m old , those stores have been gone decades. Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk |
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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. Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
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Postwar stars & HOF'ers. Prewar, Bowman & Topps Cubs team endeavors. |
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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.
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Successful Deals With: charlietheexterminator, todeen, tonyo, Santo10fan Bocabirdman (5x), 8thEastVB, JCMTiger, Rjackson44 Republicaninmass, 73toppsmann, quinnsryche (2x), Donscards. |
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ilovethesmellofnapalmFINAL.jpg
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 sad49ersfans.jpg 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 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 batmanslapsrobinbaseballcardprices02.jpg 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.
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 07-19-2024 at 04:01 PM. |
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Your show reports and my show reports on my Substack should go bowling together. Nice work.
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Read my blog; it will make all your dreams come true. https://adamstevenwarshaw.substack.com/ Or not... |
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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? keysbowlbaseballcards.jpg 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 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
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 04-28-2024 at 03:58 PM. |
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Man, that is some funny stuff!
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Great read! Thank You!
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62T Mays sells for a premium because of that woody border. Lots of chipping and damage. Similar to 55B or 71T. A little damage goes a long way, so higher grades are rare and valuable.
That and everything Mays in high-ish grades is crazy expensive these days.
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Trying to wrap up my master mays set, with just a few left: 1968 American Oil left side 1971 Bazooka numbered complete panel Last edited by raulus; 04-23-2024 at 01:29 PM. |
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Always a good read, jolly. If cards like the 62 Willie Mays could talk they would tell you not to put them in a CSG holder. Ugh.
Guys that hide their prices drive me crazy, although if I see a card I am after I will always ask to look at it price unknown. It is annoying when you ask to see a card and flip it around to discover that the price is 50% above market, as is unfortunately the case with a lot of front price tags as well. I would like to hear a good reason for putting the tag on the back. Perhaps it gives the seller a strategic advantage? This probably isn't fair but any time I see a case of cards without prices I tend to assume the dealer is a dickhead. Call me judgmental I guess. They can't all be bad guys. That all said, I would suspect price-hiders tend to be more expensive overall than the guys who put the tag the tag in front. |
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Trying to wrap up my master mays set, with just a few left: 1968 American Oil left side 1971 Bazooka numbered complete panel Last edited by raulus; 04-23-2024 at 05:19 PM. |
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Certainly there's gotta be other factors involved with the '62 Mays other than the splintering (see what I did there?) of the wood border, right??
I just had my 1962 Topps #10 Roberto Clemente come back as an SGC 7. An absolutely gorgeous card, yet the prices of his 'sevens' are a mere fraction of what the Mayses (is that the correct way to pluralize Willie?) go for. It's obviously not a perfect comparison, but those two guys sort of occupy the same echelon of 'greatness,' so I imagine their cards should be more similar in value. Doing a quick (non-scientific) look at the sold prices of their 1961, 1963 and 1964 Topps cards shows a much stronger parallel of value between their PSA 7 cards. We need Miss Marple to get off of her lazy butt and start working on this mystery...
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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Looks like a couple of other factors are cited on other threads for why high grade 62T Mays sells for a premium:
1) The dark background in the photo results in a lot of snow, so higher grade cards are more difficult to find. 2) There is often a smudge found by Willie's name or on the thick black line on the bottom edge. These common print defects also mean that it's harder to find a really nice copy. I guess add those to the woody borders, and you've got your answer. There's just not that many 8s and 9s out there. And these days, everyone who wants but can't afford 8s and 9s are dropping down and bidding up the prices for 6s and 7s.
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Trying to wrap up my master mays set, with just a few left: 1968 American Oil left side 1971 Bazooka numbered complete panel Last edited by raulus; 04-24-2024 at 05:21 PM. |
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Observations from the Card Show Front Lines - UPDATED!!!
Some quick observations from my local show, which I went to yesterday afternoon, and then again today well after noon, closer to "pack-up and closing" time. Apologies in advance for not having the Jolly font / attribute / sentence structure wisdom. (Let alone his wit)!
For the record, this was the Winston-Salem, NC Fairgrounds "Toy, Hobby, Sports Card, Hot Wheels, & Comic Book Mega Show!" 350+ VENDOR TABLES. (I can assure you by the time I showed up at roughly 2 pm today, there were nowhere near 300 vendors still in the building). Advertising / Marketing: Eeeh. Until about 12 noon yesterday, I didn't even realize this show was happening - about 15 minutes away from my house. Why it didn't somehow show up in my Facebook feed weeks earlier makes no sense to me. I happened to search "Winston-Salem Card Show" on Google to learn that this one (it's put on twice a year) was starting in about an hour. Setup: Pretty nice, actually. The space used is the old WS Fairgrounds Education Building, which is air conditioned and though not new - I would guess is at least as big as the space used for the Strongsville show - videos from which kept me busy all last week. Dealers and Available Vintage: Eeeh. At least a full half / 50% of the floor space was taken up by those hawking toys, comic books, or very shiny sports and / or Pokemon cards. There were at least a decent # of vintage dealers there yesterday; unfortunately I quickly learned that most were playing the "museum curation" game based on their prices. Raw 60's Mantle base cards (there were plenty of them) with $400 and up price tags when I can see the creases that break the surface before I ask to see the card? Yeah, no thanks. I did however find the few, in this case 3 different dealers for the whole show - who had their vintage priced reasonably, and I was able to make deals with them. Story: So, the guy with the overpriced Mantles - he did have a huge setup and multiple tables that were mostly vintage stars, so I spent a good deal of time at his table yesterday just looking and checking prices to see if there was anything worth even asking to see up close. Short answer - no there wasn't. So, I'm standing there when the guy says to another customer / showgoer - loudly and obviously for my benefit....something, something, "Yeah, like customers on your side of the glass who just stand in front of my cases all day pricing cards on their phones so they can attempt to squeeze me..." I'm not quoting here, but that was the jist. I slowly turned, walked away - and did not speak with that gentleman again. Funny enough that guy was not back for day 2, either that or he had already left by the time I got there today - admittedly late. My guess is that he pulled out, the laborious effort of curating his museum showcases not netting many sales, and frustrating him. In all honesty - am I in the wrong here? Do the rest of you not whip out your phone to look at VCP during shows? No sir sorry, I'm not paying $500 for a '63 Mantle raw in G condition. That's not a deal. You mean to tell me Mr. Dealer when you buy vintage, cards or collections - you just pay sticker for whatever the consignor or seller wants, or do you do a modicum of research on pricing and what you "can" pay that is reasonable? Sorry, but I am not letting the conveniences of the 21st century go by the wayside in terms of whatever this guy thinks is polite / impolite / indifferent, or whatever. The days of sometimes walking around with the rolled-up Beckett under your arm are long gone, but usually with the online tools I have it doesn't take me long at all - maybe 5 minutes and 2-3 lookups - to know whether your stuff is basically reasonably priced with some room to move, or whether or not you are one of the aforementioned museum curators. I didn't ask to see cards and then holdup the show and the dealer's attention / other customers to price them. Mostly I just stood off to the side for a few minutes, not bothering anyone - looking stuff up. Anywho, despite what might feel like a negative review, I did find the good guys and made some deals. Feel free to checkout my pickups over in the postwar April pickups thread - thanks.
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Postwar stars & HOF'ers. Prewar, Bowman & Topps Cubs team endeavors. Last edited by jchcollins; 04-27-2024 at 04:03 PM. |
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I know what you wrote is not a verbatim quote of what the dealer said, but the moment he bitterly remarked how you're looking at your phone to try to "squeeze" him, tells you all you need to know.
If the last ten sales of a card went for $100, and his price is $200, then the last thing in the world you're trying to do is strong-arm him by asking if he'll take a price that's a little closer to a single Benjamin for it...to be in line with what everyone else is selling that card for. He's the one doing the effin' squeezing with his ridiculous price. To go with the snake theme of my show post, let's call him a Boa ConPRICKtor.
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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Observations from the Card Show Front Lines - UPDATED!!!
Quote:
With yet another 40%+ high guy, I got the old "I have more in the card than that, sorry" - before I offered a tight, wan smile, thanked him, and walked away. In this case it was a '56 Aaron White Back in a PSA 3, which would have been an improvement over my PSA 2 that I have not had for that long. The cards were comparable, sure, but his had better color. Long story short, his "best price" after coming down 50 bucks from sticker was still roughly on the order of $140 more than recent VCP comps. (As an aside - yes "VCP average" is just a tool, a starting point, and not something set in stone. I would generally agree that if you aren't willing to ever pay more than the "average" price then you will likely wind up with a lot of "average" looking slabs in terms of centering, color, other intangibles. But I digress...)
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Postwar stars & HOF'ers. Prewar, Bowman & Topps Cubs team endeavors. Last edited by jchcollins; 04-28-2024 at 05:51 AM. |
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No, you are not wrong. I am fortunate enough to have local shows every other month and there are two or three regular vintage dealers, all of whom price reasonably. On the occasions when a mobile museum rolls into town, I do the same as you do. Once I figure out that their prices are out of line with the market, I'll generally just move on. The only thing those guys price reasonably is there shitty attitude. They can keep that, as well. I'm there to enjoy myself.
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I hereby move that Darren aka Jolly Elm be appointed the resident Poet
Laureate of the Net 54 Board. May I have a second? |
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Ummm...like when I woke out of the haze from the cursed 'Dragon Lady/Tiger Mom' hybrid at the show...how did this thread suddenly get here?? It's been in the post-war from the beginning.
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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Leon Luckey |
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Nope, I'm fine with whatever you wanna do. There are a lot more eyes (to undoubtedly ignore it) on this side of the site.
__________________
All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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Loved the post. Thanks Darren!
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__________________ M@tt G@lvin (formerly LarsHoneyToast) T206 HOF'ers: 5/76 1956 Topps HOF Portraits: 2/30 M116 Blue HOF Background: 1/11 Instagram: @StraightRaceCards |
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I'm glad you guys (I assume) enjoy it!!
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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I have a wealth of observations to post about a recent show out here, but those sad attempts at humor must be delayed due to the urgency of this Special Bulletin. Yes, it's a helluva long read, but your CARD SELLING LIFE may depend on it!!!!!!! Something NEFARIOUS is going on, and if any of you vintage card sellers are plying your trade at The National (or other shows), you have got to be on very high alert!!!! theblobposter.jpg 1. Steve McQueen tried to warn us...now, it’s my turn Look, I’m no tin foil hat wearing conspiracy theorist, but this is urgent and the truth needs to be exposed immediately, before the modern table overlords ‘disappear’ you vintage guys like they did to the dealers I’ll mention here!!!!!!!! We assume vintage show tables are going the way of the dodo due to cardboard evolution, right? Young collectors love all of the flashy new issues and players coming out each year, so it’s NATURAL for them to ignore the old stuff and push it further aside into oblivion...but what if I told you that there is something completely UNNATURAL about the growth of modern card tables??!!! Please consider: The day started innocently enough. The venue was laid out in a giant rectangle. No hidey holes, no way to get lost. You walk the perimeter checking out everything, then make your way down and across the aisles to freely visit each and every table. Easy peasy. Since the show was a sea of modern cards, I was happy to find port at a trio of vintage tables abutting each other. It was a twenty foot stretch of heaven for the eyes (definitely NOT for the wallet, though) and I stopped to yap a bit with the guys. One of the purveyors was a man I mentioned earlier in this thread with a stack of overpriced 1971 Topps Greatest Moments cards. I even amiably (read: Snarkily) feigned surprise by noting, “Oh, you still have those guys??” (To be clear, this wasn’t an imagined event. Mr. 1971 Topps Greatest Moments cards was there, and I was there. We vintage guys conversed. No one can tell me otherwise. If God himself came down and said, “Sorry, my son, thine heart is true, but thine words are mistaken,” I would reply, “F*ck thou!! Theyeth wereth hereth!!!”) Eventually, I bid them adieu (if by "adieu" you mean, “Catch you f*ckers on the flip side!”) and ventured onward to explore the rest of the show. After spending over an hour seeing nothing but the refractorization of the American pastime as I walked the floor, I decided I needed to revisit my vintage ‘happy place’ and go see those guys again. So, I headed back to the spot where they were - the only part (THE ONLY PART!!) of the venue that was bounded by windows and afforded a view of the outside, with a Dave & Buster’s, a giant parking lot, and the foothills of Mt. Diablo peppering the horizon, but they were nowhere to be found. That was weird, but let’s be honest, we’ve all lost our bearings at shows and couldn’t find our way back to specific tables we had visited earlier. It happens to everyone, so I casually circled (I guess I should say ‘rectangled’) the floor a couple of times to find them again...but there was still no sign of them. I even started at the entrance and systematically walked the entire show grid, not missing an inch of floor space, but each time I repeated the route, it again returned me to my starting point without passing them along the way. Now wickedly freaked out, I headed directly to the windowed area to seek answers. Instead of the old, wispy haired gents (with guts preventing them from buttoning their A’s and Giants jerseys) who were here manning the vintage tables earlier, what greeted me now was a pair of metrosexual twenty-somethings - tanned gym rats with blindingly white teeth and outfitted in identically oversized hats with arrow-straight (not curved a millimeter) brims. They looked more plastic than the slabs they were slinging!!! “WHOA!!!!!! WTF is going on here???????!!!!! Where’d my vintage sellers go????!!!! There is no way in heck they just packed up their tables in the middle of a busy show and left on their own accord!!! Something is wrong!!!!” And it got scarier. I realized the space that was formerly occupied by three separate tables was now taken up by a single, massive table loaded only with shiny, refractory, parallely toploaders and slabs...without a single vintage card to be seen. The conclusion is obvious!!! Modern tables are ridding the planet of all the old stuff by (yes, I could say “absorbing,” but no matter how terrified I am, I still want to write with panache, so will instead use) SUBSUMING all of the vintage tables around them!!!!! The vintage tables were devoured by a modern one!!!!! This form of supernatural ageism - preying on the weak and old cardboarded tables alone - is happening right in front of our very eyes, yet nobody talks about it????!!!!! We’ll spend days endlessly arguing about a player’s WAR...but the subject of an EVIL INGURGITATING CREATURE never comes up?????? What the hell, man???!!!! You can call me crazy, but I swear that the table was...pulsating...almost breathing. It seemed to be...I can’t believe I’m saying this...a LIVING organism!!!!! Not wanting my fear to let these preternatural predators know that I was on to them, I casually asked (hoping they didn’t notice the Niagara Falls of nervous sweat pouring down my face), “Hey, where’d the vintage guys go who were here before??” Like something out of Westworld, these trimmed-and-shaped-facial-hair-fellahs responded in a robotic, exacting unison, “We have no recollection of such vendors. We alone have occupied this space all day. You are tired and mistaken, human. Perhaps you need to sit down?” Then in synchronized form, they paused, angled their heads upwards to process (digitally scan?) the (Mets) hat on my head, and with full-toothed smiles, pointed to the same spot in the case and said in stereo, “Can we interest you in a 2019 Topps Chrome Pete Alonso Refractor Auto? An internet search indicates he currently holds a spot on the roster of the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club, Inc., based in the New York City borough of Queens.” Having me locked in place with their hypnotic eyes, I couldn’t look away...but I swear my peripheral vision caught a piece of the colorful, circled face of Sal Bando from his 1971 Topps Greatest Moments card momentarily being...I don’t know, regurgitated???...by the table...before being sucked back in again and digested!!!!! Being frightened to death by pure evil isn’t something you can ever be prepared for, so I decided to imitate Enos Slaughter in 1946 (gee, I wonder if any of his cards were on the ingested tables, but I digress), and immediately took off running and screaming like a maniac, and never stopped until I got back home!!! Unfortunately, it was only then I realized that the TRUE FACE OF EVIL hadn’t even shown itself yet. By fleeing the way I did, I had left my girlfriend back at the mall!!! My Gawd, you really think some huge, table-consuming, unearthly card show parasite is scary??? Ha!!! If you wanna see a REAL MONSTER, just piss off my girlfriend!!!!!!!! My God, am I in seriously deep sh*t now!!!!!!!!! If there’s a lesson to be learned here, I guess you vintage sellers really need to watch your backs!!!!! Oh, and always be sure to get a receipt when you buy a card at a show. That way you’ll be able to prove a dealer was actually there. Until next time, my fellow non-subsumists!! If you happen to see a seller with a stack of ungraded 1971 Topps Greatest Moments cards, tell him, “Thank God you’re still alive!!!”
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 07-24-2024 at 06:02 PM. |
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They say brevity is the soul of wit.
Well, if you think the opposite is true, then you’ve come to the right place!! I'm not going to lie. If you walked The National for four days straight, then had your eyes taped open and forced to watch seventeen reels of home movies from my family’s trip to Fort Ticonderoga, that would take less time than reading this...but hopefully a smile or two will emerge. Perhaps, you should read a single observation, (call back alert) digest it like a modern table, move on with your life and then come back later to read another one. Or just ignore the whole thing entirely. Collector's choice! Here are my (uber-longwinded) observations from a recent show... CharlesAtlasbaseballcards70.jpg 1. The Best Offense is a Good Pretense It seems that the secret cabal of vendors that we damn well know is working behind the scenes against us collectors, had a clandestine meeting to determine the best defence (wait, why am I suddenly spelling like a Brit?) against the constant barrage of complaints about every single dealer’s crazy, museumic (is that a word?) pricing. • The meeting notes from their conspiratorial conference must’ve stated very matter of factly: No matter what the complaint is about pricing, simply respond with, “Of course, it’s a LITTLE (yes, use the word “little,” not the more precise “abundantly exorbitant times a million”) more expensive than other comps, but...(wait for it)...IT IS VERY STRONG FOR THE GRADE!!” I can’t even count the number of times I heard that specific phrase, or a derivative thereof, during the show: “A killer example for the grade!” “There’s no 3 out there with corners as good as this one!!” “That ain’t no 5, it’s a five plus plus plus!!” “I’d sell my wife to find a better 7 than this guy!!” (In all honesty, a simple look at his huge gut told the world he’d happily sell her just for a bag of mini donuts, so that didn’t tell us much.) They all said the exact same thing, and it didn’t matter if someone was actually questioning the price on their slab, they just kept repeating this mantra over and over again. If you had to do a shot every time you heard someone say it, you would’ve wound up in the drunk tank before your first lap around the floor was half-completed. One modern table guy even intimated to me, “We all know that many tens are so much better than other ones.” We do?? Under my breath, I muttered at one of them, “Again with the ‘strong for the grade’ claim? Who are you, Arnold Schwarzengrader?!” The funny thing is, not a single crazily-priced card I was shown by these phrase-wielding sellers looked to be a supreme example for the grade - quite the opposite. Bottom line...it’s time to establish a new TPG called Charles Atlas Grading (CAG). I even came up with a slogan you’re free to use: “If your card isn’t in an Atlas slab, then it’s weak as a chump for the grade...and so are you!!!” 2. An Excuse to be Touched by a Young, Hot Angel (not really) This is so minor that everyone will say, “Get a REAL problem, buddy!!,” but I urge you to follow my lead... The front table was staffed by young women handing out wristbands (for us to affix ourselves), but I took a stand and reached out my arm and (referring to the wristband) asked, “Could you please put that thing on for me? I’ll probably make it too tight and cut off my circulation.” (I’ve done that before, so it wasn’t a lie.) A happy smile followed with, “Sure, lemme get that for you.” Dirty old man, right? No frickin’ way!! A smart young (apparently, only to myself, so continue reading) man!! Here’s why: • What’s the worst thing about a card show? (The crowd screams, “STUPID PRICES!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!") • Whoops...what’s the SECOND worst thing about a card show? Of course, it’s hurriedly trying to get that frickin’ wristband on in time. After paying admission, but before you can enter, you only have one ‘free’ hand to work with and you have to turn into a juggling circus performer as you attempt to keep all the crap you’re bringing inside - bags, clothing, hard cases, reading glasses case (oof!), food and drinks, and perhaps also fumbling to get your change into your pocket - from falling to the floor while you desperately try to find the edge of the adhesive section with your fingernail and get that damned thing attached to your other arm. Wouldn’t it be helpful if they provided a few tables off to the side so showgoers could take a moment to put down their stuff and attach their wristbands?? NOOOOO, what an outrageous idea!!!!!! Instead, they make it the live action version of those subway videos from Japan you run across, where city workers shove the crowds onto the trains so the doors can finally be closed. (Yes, that’s a reach, but I’m trying to make a point.) Doing it my way, you avoid all of that, because it only takes a split second for her to put it on for you. A split second well spent - no delays and now it’s show time!! Plus, no need to seek out a garbage can to throw out that pesky little peeled-off segment, because she has it, not you. Ain’t your problem no more!! Of course, (call back alert) we could avoid all of this by just stowing everything in a large backpack to free up our hands, but where’s the fun in that? stackedchairs02.jpg 3. Chairing is Caring...No, It’s Not!!! The first table I stopped at had the usual assortment of boxes and binders and slabs (“Oh my!!!”), so I was casually standing there taking it all in (my ‘Collectorism’ for this is Table Tilt - the stationary pose of standing still at a dealer’s table with your head angled slightly downward as you examine all of the items there) when the vendor suggested that maybe it would be good if he got me a chair. Thanking him for his hospitality, I said there’s no need, and didn’t think much of it. But...merely minutes later, I was engaged in the same activity at a different table, when the guy there immediately came up to me and said, “Let me find you a chair.” Looking around, I thought, “Why is everyone from the get-go treating me like I should be in some “I’ve fallen, and can’t get up!!!!” commercial airing during the afternoon soaps??” Later on, and directed specifically at no one but me, a dealer said, “I got a couple of chairs at the ready.” (I guess he forgot to tag on, “...for a Methuselah-looking motherf*cker like you!!“) This was the most seriously high ‘dealer to chair-offer ratio’ I had ever encountered. Why was everybody trying to be an usher?? All of these overtures came unsolicited, so what was I missing?? In the end, I wasn’t sure if like a restaurant host, they were just saying, “Sit down and stay a while!!,” with the hope I’d put a few bucks in their coffers by ordering overpriced jalapeño poppers and cocktails, or was it that I looked like my stasis pod malfunctioned last night and suddenly aged me thousands of years like Stewart in ‘Planet of the Apes’??? The jury’s still out. This depressed me so much that I needed to take a moment and sit down. But then it got even worse... 4. The Reading Glass is Half-Empty!!! Pulling out a 1972 Topps #32 Cleon Jones ‘In Action’ card to give a look-see (it’s crazy hard to find without a tilt), and bringing the beloved Met closer to my eyes, I exclaimed to no one in particular, “Crap!! Need my reading glasses!” (Which I had recently started bringing along to use for close-up inspections.) The couple working the table reacted with a good natured, hearty chuckle. Instant friends (Spoiler alert: that changes). I said, “I still can’t believe I need these things sometimes. It’s all brand new to me, and it’s such a frickin’ bummer.” (Yes, people my age talk like that.) (The WTF moment commences now...) The lady, who looked absolutely ancient to me, grinned and said, “Yeah, my time is also going to be coming soon in a couple of years, as I had a hard time even reading the expiration date on the paprika (she pronounced it “pah-prick-uh,” with no slight hesitation between, or stress placed on, syllables, and not “pah—PREE—kuh” like normal people) jar last night. Right, hon?” (as she looked to her hubby to confirm her story). My brain shrieked, “Coming soon???!!! Wait, aren’t you years, even DECADES older than me??? Shouldn’t MY gradual vision loss be following YOURS, not the other way around???!!! I can’t possibly be older than you, you crypt-keeper-resembling crone!!! I still have my youthful, boyhood glow!!!” (Oddly enough, her husband was clearly much younger than she was, so maybe they have a ‘sugar momma’ thing happening, but hell if I know.) She was then able to hammer my coffin shut for good with a final, “You should go to Bath & Body Works in this mall. I think they carry those chains that hold your glasses around your neck when you’re not using them. You know...attached like a necklace, so you won’t lose ‘em??” It’s a rare occasion when I’m rendered speechless, but holy heck did she inadvertently (God, I hope to hell it was inadvertent!!!) do a number on me that I won’t ever forget. When exactly did I become a “back in my day” saying, canasta-playing, butterscotch-carrying, sweater-smelling-of-mothballs-wearing, old biddy who plans on spending my final years down in Florida kind of person???!!! 5. Mourning Has Broken...My Heart Like placing the Thanksgiving turkey in the middle of the table so all can gaze upon its magnificence, so do Willie Mays cards always occupy the center spots of cases out here as reverential moneymakers. Sadly, those middles sure got a lot girthier after his recent passing, with a ton of cards being added with (Surprise!! Surprise!!) monumentally inflated prices. One guy had every single card in his display - all HOFers big and small - with ‘loud’ price stickers attached to them, except for the now overabundant number of Willie Mays cards clogging the middle. He purposely removed the stickers from those. Everything else still had (literally and figuratively) large prices showing, but the "the Say Hey Kid" cards were devoid of such trivial indications. I cut to the chase and very politely (swear!) said, “You clearly want people to ask about these cards, so you can gauge their interest during this sorrowful time and then invent an obnoxiously high price on the spot...to see if they will bite, right?” In a theatrical pretense, he frowned, shrugged his shoulders and spread his palms-up hands out in an exaggerated gesture of, “Who-ooo...me??” (Although this was real life, I swear there was a ‘sarcasm’ emoji floating beside him.) When I asked why he did that, a self-satisfied grin appeared as he scoffed, “You know what they say about hot ironing, don’t you??!!” Uh...I assume he was trying to trot out the standard, old time blacksmithing maxim, “Strike while the iron is hot,” but he seemed to be referring to pressing a dress shirt, so you won’t look like a schmuck at your friend’s bar mitzvah (true story). Being none too fond of this guy to begin with, I replied, “Yup, my mother says it sure makes the wrinkles in a skirt go away,” and left him with a puzzled look on his greedy face. 6. The Great Progressinator Da Vinci...Edison...The Wright Brothers. Innovators??? Ha!!!! Mere tinkerers. For my money, the title of history’s greatest groundbreaking mind goes to the dealer who made my eyes give him a standing ovation when I saw his booth. He (get ready for an overuse of adverbs) purposely had all of his ‘bargain bin’ storage containers illustrously on their sides, wonderously spilling out waves and waves of toploaders marvelously cascading across his tables. What an ingenuously engaging set-up!!! There were scores of excited teenagers...(whoops, since I’m so old now, I guess I should say “young whipper-snappers”)...surfing through the massive waves of shiny cards, building huge stacks to separate the ‘seen already’ from the ‘unseen yet,’ and smaller (closely guarded) piles of ‘keepers’ to the side. ‘Twas an absolute beehive of activity. When a kid would leave, the proprietor would then ‘re-spill’ the left-behind stacks into and around the large bins. I said, “This is sick!! What a cool set-up!!” He smiled hugely, and said, “Thank you very much!! It is, right??!! There’s barely any really old stuff, but every card you find is only a buck!!” (Wait...was this yet another person implying that I look ancient...AND was that buck comment a dig to call me cheap???) Like Alexander Fleming accidentally discovering Penicillin by stumbling across contaminated Petri dishes, he told me how he unintentionally tipped over one of his tubs while loading up his SUV for a show and had an incredible ‘aha moment’ (being an Archimedes fan, I would’ve called it a ‘eureka moment,’ but let’s not quibble), and he knew right then and there how he was going to start setting up his tables from now on!! I should’ve snapped a picture earlier, but only got this one very late in the day, so it’s lacking the impressively eye-catching, beginning-of-the-show spillover, but it clearly illustrates that he sold a crapload of cards, because those things started off being fully packed... tubsFINAL.jpg He joyously added, “I want to patent the idea!” I laughed and told him, “Call your booth ‘Spillage Village,’ or better yet, ‘Spilladelphia.’” The smile disappeared, “No way! It’s gotta reference one of OUR teams!!!!!” (Well, excuse the f*ck out of me for trying to help. I won’t even bother suggesting ‘Overflow Montana’ or ‘Buster Flowzie.’ Would those references be local enough for you, ya creep??!!) As morosely as the interaction seemed to end, he still gets my rubber bin stamp of approval for his advancement in the cardboard sciences. Reality check: I assume some “Alexander Graham Bell wasn’t the first to invent the telephone!” decryer will chime in to say, “I’ve seen plenty of dealers doing that same thing for years. It’s nothing new!!,” but I’m sticking with it. It was mah-velous. 7. Prologue: The C.H.O.M.P. (Creepy Hordes Of Munching People) Factor As a complete aside, when the lunchtime pangs of hunger kicked in, it was time to take a break and meet up with my girlfriend for some grub. I have to say it. Next to the ungainly nerds (no offense, making fun of dweebs is never cool, because the moment you have a problem with your phone or computer, who’s going to be your best friend?) digging through the modern stuff, coupled with the waves of balding middle-aged men with fat rippling through their stretched to capacity, sweat-stained shirts looking through the old stuff at card shows, is there a more repulsive group of people anywhere in the world than what is seen stuffing their faces in a mall food court?? No frickin’ way!!! BLECH!!! Anyway, after overpaying like Dean’s Cards for the privilege of eating a footlong hero (yes, it’ll always be a “hero,” not a “sub” or “hoagie” or “grinder” or “torpedo”), I decided to cruise back towards the cavernous former Forever 21 store that served as the show’s venue. On this short walk is where our tale commences... a'shatmetshat.jpg 8. Gunfight at the OaKland Corral (This entire ‘event’ took a mere handful of seconds, and would mean nothing to other humans, but the enduring and misguided passion we have for our teams makes us baseball fans an entirely different animal.) As I strode back, the mall’s drab, industrial-gray floor covering in front of me suddenly became empty...deserted, like the street outside the saloon in a movie western. Out of nowhere, a lone, silhouetted figure appeared in the distance and slowly began making his way towards me...with something green on his head. Are keys jangling in his pocket...or is that metallic clicking sound coming from a pair of spurs????? Wait, did a tumbleweed just roll past the entrance to Sephora???!!! What’s making those terrifying and echoing sounds...are there rattlesnakes in this shopping center????!!!! (Cue the infamous Clint Eastwood movie “waaah wah waaah waaaa-aaaah” sound effect.) Finally coming into focus and stopping a mere ten paces away, this buckaroo looked about the same age as me and he was proudly wearing an old Oakland A’s hat. It wasn’t some newer thing from the ‘Bash Brothers’ years. No, sir, its well-faded and weathered green and yellow told me it came from the 1973-era A’s!!! Channeling Indiana Jones, I woefully grumbled, “Why’d it have to be the 1973 A’s??” As I stood there in my faded blue, 1973-era Mets hat. His quick glance at my head told him exactly who my team was, and he nearly imperceptibly squared his shoulders to face his enemy (I’m sure I mirrored his movement to also face MY enemy). As my brain growled, “This mall ain't big enough for both of us!!” I imagined spitting a gob of tobacco juice at his feet. Sadly, it was all just an act. Since I’m the only Mets fan west of the Pekos, I was alone. No one would be galloping in to help me circle the orange and blue wagons. Both he and I recognized this for what it was, an unavoidable duel between hated adversaries. It was high noon in front of the Hello Kitty store, but we both knew full well that my Mets had already lost this gunfight over a half a century ago in The World Series...4 games to 3. He didn’t need a Colt ‘Peacemaker’ in his holster to prevail. The only thing he needed was already hanging inside whatever ballpark the Athletics call home - signage boasting “1973 World Champions.” When 1973 comes up, my thoughts go to Raquel Welch, Pam Grier’s funbags (no offense, I’m obviously referring to her purses), and Ann B. Davis as Alice (yeah, sometimes my freaky tastes veer towards the matronly, but I won’t apologize for that). That’s what real men think about, but this guy wasn’t pondering delicious 70’s babes...his reverie told me he was off thinking about Darold Knowles and Bert Campaneris and Reggie, about Willie Mays losing balls in the sun, and about his boyhood hero, Joe Rudi, playing flawlessly even though the blinding rays in Oakland made it feel like those long ago games were being played on the surface of Mercury. I searched his eyes for a hint of compassion, maybe a little, “It’s all right, buddy,” to ease my pain, but he offered nothing. Not even bothering to meet my eyes, he only proffered a deliberately slow and knowing tip of his green hat to say, “Eff you and your Big Apple losers!!! 'Miracle Mets,' my ass!!!!” He was silently laughing out loud as a smirk filled his hate-filled soul. I guess there are none so loud as those who will not speak. (Whoa!! Someone call Bartlett's and get that quote in the next edition!!) As he happily walked off into the sunset (literally, the store was called “The Sunset Emporium”), I was left with the last vestiges of my masculinity destroyed by his yellow and green stagecoach rolling over me. I never stood a chance...you can’t change the past. 9. Epilogue: The H.O.W.D.Y. (Hotties on Walls Delighting You) Factor As the dust settled (see what I did there?), it was time for me to do the ‘walk of shame’ and mosey on back to the show. I was feeling as low as a horse hoof in mud (ibid.), but then a saving grace appeared. Everywhere I looked, the same, oft-repeated poster of a trio of soaking wet, racially diverse, gorgeous ‘fillies’ who were falling out of their skimpy bathing suits was visible. Don’t reckon I can tell you what in tarnation these ads were trying to sell to people, but gazing at them made my diminished testosterone levels shoot up faster than a buzzard on a carcass!!!! [ATTACH]629449[/ATTACH].jpeg 10. The Apparent Unimportance of Nothingness A young guy was doggedly trying to sell his card to a dealer, and he kept referring to the prices on his phone with choruses of, “They always sell for $125. Always! I want $125 for it.” The reply was, “I’ll give you $80, and that’s being generous.” “But it always sells for $125. Be fair! I need $125.” After a few rounds of this same conversation were repeated and in the books, the seller finally said with exasperation, “Only $80. Let’s see if you can grasp this. What does this card sell for?” “$125. See?” (as he showed him his phone.) “Okay, so if I buy it from you for $125, what price can I sell it for?” “I told you!! $125!! Every time!!” Pausing a few moments in the hope that enlightenment would enter the kid’s brain, he asked, “Do you really not see what I’m getting at???” Now mumbling to himself, the kid huffed and puffed and stormed off. Looking for support, the seller remarked, “This is my job. The boy wants me to buy his card for $125 and maybe I can re-sell it for $125, but probably less. No profit. Nothing!! He can’t grasp that simple concept...and he thinks I’M the bad guy?? When did they stop teaching basic economics in school??” I commiserated, “You can’t teach common sense.” 11. Would You Like an Order of Despise With That? As a pair of guys were happily digging their way through some bins, I could tell that one of them was brand new to the vintage game. His buddy kept explaining the differences in Topps designs to him, and would test his newfound knowledge by pulling out a 1959 common and asking, “What year is this one from?” The other guy thought for a moment and replied, “It’s the knothole layout. You said the 58’s have the empty colored backgrounds, like this one (as he pulled a 1958 card from the bin)...so it’s from ‘59, right?” (And the crowd roars!!!!!!) Exclaiming, “Very well done!” I gave him a fist bump. (Both were really good guys, so we got to talking about all sorts of things.) Being all giddy as they pored through the final toploaders in search of gold, they readied their stack of ‘keepers’ to buy. The more ‘expert’ of the two enthusiastically focused his smile on the serious, bespectacled seller and said, “Wow, all of this is incredible!!! It’s obvious you’ve been a COLLECTOR for a long time!!” With an unmistakeable contempt in his voice, and seemingly ready to rap the guy’s knuckles like a yardstick-wielding nun yelling, “Sinister!! Sinistro!!” at my left-handed sister in Catholic school (TMI), the seller dismissed him with a corrective, “No I’ve been a VENDOR a long time!” As if to separate his lordly self from the common riffraff of the regular collecting community. Note to self: Revise Chapter One, Page One of ‘The Idiot’s Guide To Selling Baseball Cards’ to include, “Always display derisive scorn towards highly-spirited customers.” 12. Random Funny Moment As I was checking past sales data on my phone BOOM!! the site went down. I hit refresh and hit refresh and hit refresh again, nothing. So I held my phone up high...I dunno, to ‘try to reach’ the Wi-Fi or whatever and get a signal. Don’t think everyone’s completely reliant on their phones at card shows?? At the very moment I did this, people as far as the eye could see, everywhere across the floor, were all suddenly holding their phones up in the exact same frickin’ manner, suffering the same indignity of having their Wi-Fi taken away. In the old days, people used to hold their hands up to the heavens for Jesus, now they do it to see what an SGC 5 1963 Topps Manny Mota RC should sell for. moneycountingmachine01.jpg 13. Meet Me in the Middle...of Park Place and Fort Knox While waiting to chat about a pair of Jim Palmer rookie cards, I stumbled into a fascinating negotiation unfolding in front of me. A pair of guys - seemingly a lead negotiator and a ‘bag man’ with the money - wanted to reach a deal on a variety of slabbed cards (I couldn’t see the grade numbers) spread out on the glass display. The two main prizes were a 1950 Bowman Jackie Robinson and a 1957 Topps Mickey Mantle. Among the other things were a few overly-colorful modern cards with blue Sharpie signatures on them - ‘hot’ autographed rookie or chase cards or something. Back and forth they went in a spirited and respectful manner, with the buyer time and again offering a (very large, but still too low) number, and the seller (while explaining his pricing and punching numbers into a calculator) countering with a (slightly reduced, but still much) higher number. At one point (referring to the Robinson), he said, “This is literally the cheapest you can buy this card for in this grade anywhere on the planet. I checked. You can search your phone as long as you want, there isn’t a lower one on this great big, spinning, blue beach ball.” (Quite poetic!!! Wonder if back in the day he was using his student loan money to buy cases of 1990 Score cards while studying for an English Lit degree, but that’s pointless conjecture.) Finally, the talks reached the point where the two sides were close enough (metaphorically, their beer bellies were bumping each other) that the end game was imminent. Holding out his hand to shake, the buyer said in a hopeful fashion, “Meet me in the middle??” Let me say this: When I ask a dealer to ‘meet me in the middle,’ it’s when I only want to pay 50¢ for a 1972 Topps Moe Drabowsky card he wants a buck for. I will say, “Seventy five cents?” If he comes back with, “I’ll let it go for eighty,” my reaction would be, “That’s too rich for my blood.” So, take a wild guess what the ‘meet me in the middle’ price was here?? It was a “Holy guacamole!!!” (ugh, I can’t stand avocados) inducing $17,300!!!!! YOW-ZA!!!!! With the seller accepting the deal, (earlier, it was agreed that this would be a cash transaction) a perfectly uniform stack of one hundred and seventy three newly minted (or is it “printed”?) $100 bills was slid across the table. It was like a scene out of a heist film, and I expected the seller to say, “The serial numbers are non-sequential, right?” He handed the stack to his assistant who then disappeared somewhere. Returning only seconds later, he gave a subtle nod to indicate the cash was the correct amount (did he have a currency counting machine hidden back there???), and the sale was finalized with more handshakes. Whatever the opposite of a monied collector is, that’s who your humble correspondent is, so this transaction was so above and beyond what I’m used to that it was very cool to behold. 14. California...The World’s Mental Asylum Complete randomness here, but how about a last minute giggle? Driving back home from the venue, we spotted something that would be quite odd to anyone not forced to deal with the daily lunacy of The Golden State. A guy was pedaling his bike down a heavily trafficked (shouldn’t that be spelled “trafficed”?) street with, whaddaya know, a giant German Shepherd casually standing without a care in the world on his head and shoulders. This is a waaaaaaaaaaaay zoomed in part of the only photo my girlfriend was able to snap out of the passenger side window (from a very far distance) as we turned off of the road, so at least we got something... bikeriderwithdogFINAL.jpg (Editor’s note: I did say, “WTF!!,” and whipped a uey to wait at the light, so we could get back on that road for a better picture of the dynamic duo, but the intersection was a mess and by the time we returned to pursuing our quarry, POOF!!! they had vanished just like my youth. You always regret the pictures you don’t take.) Want further lunacy? Do I even have to mention that although it was a balls-blistering two thousand and forty three degrees out, the bike rider was dressed from head to toe in thick, fully black (heat absorbing) winter gear, as if he and Lance Arf-strong (thank you, I’ll be here all week) were headed up to Squaw Valley for a weekend ski getaway???? Until next time, my fellow Darn it, I hope there are no typos in thing. Where did I put my damn reading glasses??
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. Last edited by JollyElm; 07-25-2024 at 09:16 PM. |
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I can't say I read it all, but OMG Lance Arf-strong is unsurpassable.
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My avatar is a sketch by my son who is an art school graduate. Some of his sketches and paintings are at https://www.jamesspaethartwork.com/ He is available to do custom drawings in graphite, charcoal and other media. He also sells some of his works as note cards/greeting cards on Etsy under JamesSpaethArt. |
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Darren, loved your account, up to your high standards. The bike rider with his canine buddy was priceless. The only thing better would have been the pooch pedaling and the guy standing on his back. Might happen, California, you know.
I wonder if it is only a matter of time before those dealers, who use wives or girlfriends as an enticement to visit their booths, go all in and have pole dancers performing on-site. I can envisage a scenario whereby the girls finish their shift and are looking for a gratuity. They are not looking for dirty Washingtons or abused Lincolns they want your high grade cards. Pity poor Fred, who came to the show with the intent of having his super nice '57 Brooks Robby graded, a Xmas present from his wife and now somewhat aroused, slipping his prized card into the generous cleavage about 2" from his nose. I can image the discussion when he got home: Ethel - " Well, I hope you dropped off Brooksie for grading." Fred, - "Yes, my little sugar plum at PSA". "Should be ready in about a month." Ethel - " That's good". "I'm worried about that little nick in the upper left corner." "You know, I wiped out about all my savings to get you that card and i sure hope it gets a high grade. Fred - Arghhhh (quietly) |
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Quote:
Here's hoping the next time I'm sitting on the floor eating like an animal, because the venue had no lunch seating, I'll be able to gaze at bodacious dealer-adjacent 'entertainers' as I scarf down my overpriced gruel!!
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All the cool kids love my YouTube Channel:
Elm's Adventures in Cardboard Land https://www.youtube.com/@TheJollyElm Looking to trade? Here's my bucket: https://www.flickr.com/photos/152396...57685904801706 “I was such a dangerous hitter I even got intentional walks during batting practice.” Casey Stengel Spelling "Yastrzemski" correctly without needing to look it up since the 1980s. Overpaying yesterday is simply underpaying tomorrow. |
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