At one of the first card shows I ever attended - around 1982, or so - I was searching for early Bowman cards and wasn't having much luck, until near the last table, where a small, foreign-accented gentleman was displaying many stacks of exactly what I needed. I had my six-year-old son with me and was holding on to him with a death grip, as I tried to explain to the puzzled dealer that I couldn't let go of him because my hyperactive autistic son would tear off into parts unknown and wreak mayhem on anything he could get his tiny hands on. To my surprise, the guy pulled a box of old beater cards from under his chair and asked if my son would like to play with them. It worked long enough for me to examine a stack of '51 Bowman high numbers and buy about twenty cards. As I paid him and thanked him for his consideration, he said he understood what I was dealing with and only wanted to facilitate a purchase, but I have always suspected that he had experience beyond mere card dealing.
|