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So the head chef at The Bar asked me yesterday if I knew anything about baseball cards. While I collected them as a kid (mid to late Seventies), I really don't know much about them now. But out of curiousity, I asked why he was asking.
Well, his father had died recently, and his mother had given Chef his father's baseball cards, of which there were quite a few, all in damn good shape. As he's telling me this, I immediately start crunching the numbers in my head. Chef is in his early sixties or so. Which means his father had to be in his eighties. When precisely were these cards from? There might be a good chance at some seriously valuable stuff here. So, would I do some research for him? Sure. But if I was gonna spend my time on this, if there was any money to be made, I should get a cut. 10% seemed fair. And I looked forward to this morning when he'd drop off the collection and I'd go through it.
Fast forward to this morning. Two cigar boxes with baseball cards dropped off. I put on gloves to avoid damaging any of these potential treasures. And I start going through them, initially making a list from the smaller box, organizing them by year and manufacturer, and within that alphabetically by player, but as I got to the larger box, I realized it might be better to just sort them by year and maker first, and see if an thing stood out.
Once that task was done, and I had about eight piles of cards, I started doing some online research. And....pretty much watched the roof cave in. Because all of these cards were from 1990-1992. (When did Dad start collecting baseball cards, in his sixties?!?) And my online research told me that as card collecting started to take off as a serious business in the mid-Eighties, card makers started to glut the market from the late Eigthies through the early Nineties. In short, I was staring at piles of worthless baseball cards, valuable only to someone who liked them for what they were, but not anything that was going to enable the purchase of anything valuable. Hell, these cards probably weren't worth enough to buy a taco.
*sigh* Ten percent of nothing is nothing. Damn.
On the bright side, there were some 1992 cards featuring Nolan Ryan, my favorite pitcher, and Chef agreed to let me have those. He asked for a bottle of vodka in return (a pint, maybe?), and while I think that's overcharging me (especially considering the two hours of work I did that I'll never get back), I want those cards, and he's a hell of a nice guy, so why not? So I'll be returning the cards to him, with a bit of hooch, and I'll get those Nolan Ryan cards.
Oh, well. Back to enjoying my Sunday off, minus any large commission for found treasures.
Well, his father had died recently, and his mother had given Chef his father's baseball cards, of which there were quite a few, all in damn good shape. As he's telling me this, I immediately start crunching the numbers in my head. Chef is in his early sixties or so. Which means his father had to be in his eighties. When precisely were these cards from? There might be a good chance at some seriously valuable stuff here. So, would I do some research for him? Sure. But if I was gonna spend my time on this, if there was any money to be made, I should get a cut. 10% seemed fair. And I looked forward to this morning when he'd drop off the collection and I'd go through it.
Fast forward to this morning. Two cigar boxes with baseball cards dropped off. I put on gloves to avoid damaging any of these potential treasures. And I start going through them, initially making a list from the smaller box, organizing them by year and manufacturer, and within that alphabetically by player, but as I got to the larger box, I realized it might be better to just sort them by year and maker first, and see if an thing stood out.
Once that task was done, and I had about eight piles of cards, I started doing some online research. And....pretty much watched the roof cave in. Because all of these cards were from 1990-1992. (When did Dad start collecting baseball cards, in his sixties?!?) And my online research told me that as card collecting started to take off as a serious business in the mid-Eighties, card makers started to glut the market from the late Eigthies through the early Nineties. In short, I was staring at piles of worthless baseball cards, valuable only to someone who liked them for what they were, but not anything that was going to enable the purchase of anything valuable. Hell, these cards probably weren't worth enough to buy a taco.
*sigh* Ten percent of nothing is nothing. Damn.
On the bright side, there were some 1992 cards featuring Nolan Ryan, my favorite pitcher, and Chef agreed to let me have those. He asked for a bottle of vodka in return (a pint, maybe?), and while I think that's overcharging me (especially considering the two hours of work I did that I'll never get back), I want those cards, and he's a hell of a nice guy, so why not? So I'll be returning the cards to him, with a bit of hooch, and I'll get those Nolan Ryan cards.
Oh, well. Back to enjoying my Sunday off, minus any large commission for found treasures.
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