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

[Kutcher55]

btw slightly off topic, but since a thread needs a card, here's a recent ebay transaction. Note any difference between the card for sale and the one I received in the mail? I had to chuckle when I got this. I paid nothing so whatever, but seriously? There's gotta be a name for this sort of selling practice.

[Bigdaddy]

Originally Posted by Kutcher55

btw slightly off topic, but since a thread needs a card, here's a recent ebay transaction. Note any difference between the card for sale and the one I received in the mail? I had to chuckle when I got this. I paid nothing so whatever, but seriously? There's gotta be a name for this sort of selling practice.

Looks like a digital trim job.

What say Darren, 'Digitrim'? or do you already have a term for this type of practice?

[JollyElm]

Originally Posted by Bigdaddy

Looks like a digital trim job.

What say Darren, 'Digitrim'? or do you already have a term for this type of practice?

Fear not, I have the subject covered (as well as other bits from this thread) and it will be a part of the next round of 'Collectorisms'...coming soon to a thread near you!!!

--elm

[David W]

Originally Posted by JollyElm

Fear not, I have the subject covered (as well as other bits from this thread) and it will be a part of the next round of 'Collectorisms'...coming soon to a thread near you!!!

--elm

Can't wait.

[Exhibitman]

Originally Posted by Kutcher55

btw slightly off topic, but since a thread needs a card, here's a recent ebay transaction. Note any difference between the card for sale and the one I received in the mail? I had to chuckle when I got this. I paid nothing so whatever, but seriously? There's gotta be a name for this sort of selling practice.

People suck.

[JollyElm]

ANOTHER LONG AND RIDICULOUS ASSESSMENT OF A SHOW...but at least this one has a couple of photos!!

Caffeine required, massive amounts of caffeine. It's not my intention to put you to sleep, but your mattress is undoubtably gonna be calling to you.


Another semi-local show occurred yesterday, and I decided at the very last moment to make the drive to see some treasures, and here are some thoughts...



1. In Plain Sight
Not sure if it’s the way of card shows across the country now, but it seems the vast majority of the ones I’ve been to lately had the autograph guests tucked away out of public view in some sort of labyrinth, only visible to the attendees who paid the fees to have items signed and led through a maze to go see (and most likely be ignored by) the player in person.

The signer here was Orlando Cepeda, and it was nice that he was right there in front of anyone who wanted to look. Here’s a zoomed in shot of him stylishly sipping a soda (actually, since this is California, it is very likely something from Jamba Juice)...

orlandocepedasippingsoda01.jpg

If I read the faraway sign accurately, it cost $40 to get a card autographed. Didn’t talk to his point person, but as the photo indicates, there didn’t seem to be a lot of activity there. Could be wrong.


2. Swing And A Mislead
This ‘yute’ (random ‘My Cousin Vinny’ reference) walked up to a major vintage dealer’s (large and brimming with activity) table to ask if he was interested in buying some very old cards. His curiosity peaked by the inquisitor’s steel case/safe, the dealer asked him what he had.

The reply was, “Koufax, Mantle, Mays, Aaron, William, Campy, Berra and Clemente. All of the major guys.”

Everyone ‘round the table’s ears popped up (mostly through the jealousy of, “How come this never happens to me??!!”) and the kid drew a captive audience. He remarked, “I got these from my grandfather,” and that made everyone drool. The mention of a grandfather means the 1950’s and earlier, right??!!

And now the big reveal...jimmying open his case, he pulled out a small stack of toploaders (everyone’s heads excitedly leaned it to get a closer look), and what treasures did they hold?? A bunch of lower grade 1975 Topps MVP cards!!!!!!! Technically, they do contain the players he mentioned, so he did speak the truth, but come on, man!! Argh!! A collective sigh of HUGE disappointment echoed through the venue, as this boy’s 15 minutes of fame vanished after a mere two minutes. What a let down to the collected collecting masses.

This is where it hurts me (and probably MOST of us a bit). When someone mentions their grandfather’s cards, they are talking about the stuff he actually got from the packs he opened as a boy. This guy’s granddad was collecting NOT in the 1950’s or 60’s, but in the mid-1970’s. How the heck is that grandfather age now??? I need a nap.

In retrospect, the whole thing could’ve been avoided. I’m quite sure he also threw in the names Groat, Jensen and Burroughs as he was rattling off players, so I guess we all should’ve known it was going to be a big fail.


3. Slight Uptick in Modern Dealers
The percentage of tables hawking modern cards seemingly went from last show’s 99.3% up to 99.7% now. “Vintage?? We don’t need no stinkin’ vintage!!!”


4. Dead Centering
It’s often been mentioned how Brooks Robinson has clearly been an undervalued Hall of Famer forever. For the everyday collector, the want of his cards centers around a couple of standouts, like his rookie card or the coveted and pricey 1967 high number.

Well, after his very recent passing, the number of B-Robby cards sitting in display cases has grown doubly, triply exponentially. It seemed virtually every dealer had Brooks Robinson cards occupying prominent positions in their cases, surrounded by the usual assortment of Mantles, Mays, Aarons, Ryans and Clementes. And we’re not talking about the rare stuff, just the basic 1960s-70s cards.

Sometimes effective marketing is depressing.


5. Semi-Karma
We all know those sellers who couple their stupid pricing with an inability to ever stop talking as they push you to buy their stuff. One I’ve seen at every show I’ve attended out here was drastically different this time. Whenever I was in close proximity to his table, he sat silently with a styrofoam takeout container beside him. He didn’t appear sad or forlorn (otherwise, I’d feel bad that maybe something bad happened in his life), but it seemed like he finally acknowledged (Ha! No way!) that his loud and boisterous pestering of showgoers doesn’t actually work to create sales.

We’ll see what version of him shows up at the next show.


6. My Favorite Player is Cash
Glancing at a dealer’s table which ran the gamut from vintage to a ton of modern stuff, I was witness to something that completely sums up what modern era baseball card ‘collecting’ (purposeful air quotes) seems to have become.

A young guy - late teens, early 20’s - was surveying the table when the dealer, with a big smile on his face, asked, “Hey, who’s your favorite player?” in an attempt to see if he could direct him towards some stuff and make some sales (see 'Rapporical Question' in post #37). The ‘kid’ replied something to the effect of it was Ohtani and Trout and (going into a lengthy soliloquy) explained that due to their injuries he wasn’t sure if selling their cards now would be the right move, because if they return and continue to be great, then their cards would increase nicely in value. "Or do I assume that although all of their cards are dropping right now, I should still get out and limit my losses?" This went on for a while and there were multiple references to return-on-investment, and I swear he used the word “commoditization.” At points he was pointing out sales of cards on his iPad. On and on it went. He also mentioned Pete Alonzo in the same vein, as well as other names who I am unfamiliar with, but assume are big stars (I know nothing about today’s game).

Every word uttered was about the value of cards, the up and downs of the card market, and what his next moves should be.

When it finally ended, the dealer had a dumbfounded look on his face, so I leaned in to the ‘kid’ and explained, “He asked you who your FAVORITE PLAYER is. Who do you like to watch?” After making a sort of scoffing noise, he looked around and replied, “How am I supposed to answer that? I dunno.”

YOW-ZUH.

We all have a favorite player or players that are burned into our souls. These names are established when you’re a kid. My holy trinity is Willie Mays, Dave Kingman and Reggie jackson. No thought required. You ask me who my favorite player is and their names immediately come out of my mouth. The friends I grew up with? The same thing, almost entirely Mets and Yankees, and nobody has to think about it. “You know mine’s Doc Gooden.” “Graig Nettles for me.”

This ‘kid’s’ concept of ‘favorite’ only means who will return him the most profit on the sales of his cards. That’s it. No appreciation for the player himself, just his card prices. He couldn’t comprehend the base emotion of being a red-blooded American with an all out love for a player. He’s probably never even stepped onto a diamond in his entire (albeit short) life.

SMH.


7. Randomly Funny Moment
I finally got a tank top version of a baseball card shirt I created, so I broke it out for the show. As I approached a Net54 member’s table, his mom (who works the shows with him) smiled hugely at me and (referring to my shirt) said, “You’re a good boy to love your mother so much.” She was obviously very proud of me (stay tuned, that changes) for wearing this garment...

tanktopbitchFRONT03.jpg


Having no choice, I humbly said, “Lady, you really need to look at the back of it,” and proceeded to turn around to let her see it...

tanktopbitchBACK03.jpg


When I turned back around, the guy also working the table was guffawing (it’s always nice to be appreciated), and the mom’s face was red with a bit of embarrassment, but smiling broadly as she proudly pointed at her son and said, “Well, I never threw out any of his cards, look...” (as she 'presented' everything on the table) and crossed her arms in a happy triumph.

It was obvious that she wanted to laugh at the shirt, but chose to be more reserved. We parted the bestest of friends.


8. Low-Grade Larceny?
We all hate ‘Highed Pricers’ (See what I did there? The prices are too high and they are hidden), who keep their price stickers out of sight (my ‘Collectorism’ for this is Snakebelly Pricing). It usually leads to a look of shocking disbelief on your face after you ask him about a card, and he takes it out, looks at the sticker on the underside and reveals his (larcenous) asking price.

There was a dealer who employed this method at his table, but the weirdness of it was his entire inventory was low grade cards. I don’t believe he had anything over a PSA/SGC 2. And we’re NOT talking about any ‘big money despite the grade’ 1950s Mantles and Robinsons, we're talking 1960s/70s ‘regular’ HOFers. They are basically 'valueless.'

If you’re set on way overcharging for cards in garbage shape, it may be time to find another vocation.


Until next time, my fellow collectors anti-snakebellyists!!

[Kutcher55]

Another outstanding installment, thanks for sharing.

[JollyElm]

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 dreams nightmares now.)

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 Cheap Expensive or Rarity is in the Eye of the Beholder
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 strangers 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 collectors anti-Pelicanists!!

[Exhibitman]

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.

[JollyElm]

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!"