Tom.

Part of my job each week is to pen a column for this newsletter about something or another relating to the trading card world.

Lord knows, I’ve been in this world long enough, you’d think I’d have a really firm grasp on it.

But the hobby is a wondrous and disastrous thing all at the same time, isn’t it?

And everyday I find myself both excited at the discovery of something new and wonderful, and shaking my head at the realization that some parts of the hobby are still pretty sketchy and cruel.

On that note, I pen today’s column about an old friend of mine who has been a collector since he was six years old, and now, just having celebrated his 73rd birthday, he made a decision about the hobby — he’s walking away from it. 

Every shelf a memory

When you walk into my friend Tom’s basement there are rows of industrial steel shelving, each one carrying yellowed 3200 and 5000 count boxes of trading cards.

“I think I’ve got over one million,” he laughed. “Or maybe what my wife says — five million. I really have no clue.”

Every box is labeled with the year, the set name and whether it’s a complete set or not. If it’s not, there are numbers scribbled somewhere along the box of the cards needed to complete the set. Some are crossed off, others are not. 

Tom has moved these boxes four times in the last 50 years, from one house to the next. 

These boxes have seen him meet his wife, Laura, have four daughters, seven grandchildren, six dogs, two cats, and many goldfish.

They’ve been there through tough times, and wonderful times alike, always a constant in his life.

“I’ve always had the cards,” he said. “When I needed an escape I came down here and sorted or just went through some from a long time ago. They keep me grounded, I guess you could say. A lot of memories in these boxes.”

Now is the time

He knew there would come a day when there simply wouldn’t be any more boxes.

That day came about four months ago for Tom.

“I had been to a card show and picked up some stuff,” he said. “I was down here sorting and all the things I do down here and it just hit me.”

What hit him, Tom says, is the realization that the time had come to let it all go.

“My wife has always wanted to go to Italy,” he said. “And we never went. I started looking around down here and realized there are more things I need to do before I die than complete my 1968 Topps set. I love this hobby, and it has given so much to me over the years, but that night I realized it was time to let it go.”

So, he did. 

He sent off nearly two hundred of his most valuable cards to SGC for grading, got them back and moved those as a collection to a friend in the hobby.

The remaining cards, the rows and rows of boxes — filled with Lord-knows how many commons, rookies, star cards, dating back from the late 1950s all the way to 2024 Topps — Tom had a much different plan for those.

“I gave the entire collection away,” he said, smiling from ear-to-ear. “Every single card.”

Who he gave it to didn’t surprise me, or anyone else who knows Tom, at all.

“I gave it to a 15-year old kid who loves the hobby as much as I do,” he said. “I want him to be able to spend a lifetime adding to it, sorting through it, enjoying it as much as I did. I want those cards to carry him through all of life’s ups-and-downs the way they did for me.”

About two weeks ago, myself, that 15-year old kid, his father, and a few other friends carried box after box up from Tom’s basement steps and loaded them into a UHaul truck, taking even the shelving, too.

Until finally, Tom himself brought up the last 3200 count box, the one labeled 1957 Topps.

Starting Again.

I got an email this morning which inspired me to tell this story.

It was simply a photo of Tom and his wife, Laura, standing in front of Trevi Fountain in Italy.

I admit, it started my morning off in a very good way.

However,when I looked closer at the photo, I could see my friend holding something up towards the camera.

I zoomed in on my phone and saw, clear as day, was Tom holding up a pack of 2024 Bowman baseball.

They have cards in Italy…  he said in the body of the email. Never too late to start again.