A new kind of satisfaction
In the beginning there were rookie base cards. Lots and lots of rookie base cards.
Tyler Herro. Darius Garland. Juan Soto.
My storage boxes filled. After nearly 30 years out of the hobby, I was back, and I thought I knew what I was doing.
Then one night ripping packs, the light turned on. Something wasn’t right. I took a closer look at my Donruss Bobby Witt Jr. Rated Prospect.
Why wasn’t there a Royals logo anywhere on his uniform?
Kansas City (redacted) player Bobby Witt Jr.
So began my sports-card hobby re-education: Cardboard Connection set lists, old Blowout threads, and podcasts. So many podcasts.
Curiosity, mistakes, luck, and a love for research chaperone my journey. I wouldn’t be where I am now without each of the four.
Thinking about those early moments, what I remember most is the rush of mail days. That rush lasted approximately 30 seconds. Then I was on to the next hunt. Satisfaction quickly faded into the search for my next fix—and I do mean fix.
I lacked focus and direction, an untethered kite in a tornado.
But, oh, that fix. That rush. None of that aimlessness mattered, until, one day, it just sort of did start to matter.
What’s most interesting is that, in the beginning, I got my rush through the sheer accumulation of cards. Now, a few years later, I get that rush through the acquisition of the right cards. The mail days are less frequent, but my satisfaction is so beyond what I was doing before that going back to a life of quantity over quality is inconceivable.
If I’m being honest, though, I miss the rush. I haven’t forgotten the adrenalized jolt of The Fix. It’s addictive. I think I’ve just been able to discipline myself—a little bit—to be less impulsive, which has made a difference.
I skipped over a few years of lessons and experiences that have helped me get to this point.
Those stories will come.