Everyone has a Reason...

It occurs to me that people collect for different reasons. Some are in it for the chase and the profit of the big hit. Some are in for team pride. Some are in it because set building is an art form. Some just do it because they love it.

Then there is me. I'm not here to profit. I don't chase hits. I don't flip cards. My teams are important but the rest of sports history is important too. The next Aaron Judge card is just as important as the missing 93 Select Julio Valera. A new Mattingly is gold but is as treasured as a card I didn't have from an obscure insert set from 95 Pacific. Building sets to me is an art form, but isn't the only reason I do it. There is also and inherent love for the cards and something much deeper that I don't often talk about that goes back to when I was 7.

In 1984, my Uncle Ray bought me my first Cello pack of 1984 Topps cards for my birthday. The top card was Yankees catcher Rick Cerone. This began a lifelong obsession with the cardboard gold. Something about putting the cards in order soothed me. It was a cathartic experience even when I was young, which was good--life wasn't exactly easy as a kid. 

My parents were good people. They fought a lot. They drank a bit. We lived in Brooklyn. People got shot outside of my house. It was the 80's and early 90's in New York. Gangs and the Mafia were still a thing. Relatives died due to not taking care of themselves. My Grandfather passed away at 58--when I was 9. 

By the time I was 12, I had amassed an army of cards to sort and help me cope with whatever was happening in life. It became my refuge. When things were bad, I sorted cards. When things went wrong, I sorted cards. Parents having and argument and drinking a bit--cards.

Fast forward. 

1997. I joined the Army. Card collecting became sporadic until 2001. Then again until I was medically retired in 2012. And again until I met Stef and we moved out of a bad situation and on our own in 2017. During my time in the Army, I did 4 combat tours. 3 in Iraq, 1 in Afghanistan. I lost many friends. I went through two divorces. After, my body broke down and then my mother passed away.

In 2018, Stef and I went to a Mariners game. We bought a blaster of 2018 Topps. We pulled a Kris Bryant Manufactured Patch Card and my passion for cards was ignited--and not a moment too soon.

As much as therapy and medication help with PTSD for whatever events happen in a persons life, sometimes having a fallback option to calm yourself is critical. Sorting cards has always been my therapy. It just took me until my 40's to figure that out. Now, it is a tool as much as it is a love. I can sort doubles and calm the demons all at once. The best part is that Stef joins me in sorting cards and in opening new products. We are in this together.

I own over a million cards. Every single card that gets added to my growing collection that I didn't own before is one step closer to finish a set or a goal. These goals make the PTSD manageable. Every card I already own, becomes a card I can trade or gift to someone who needs or wants it. Like I said on Twitter yesterday, we pass the legacies on.

If you have your reasons for collecting as it's all about profits, then I applaud you for doing what makes you happy. I do believe it is a bit hollow, but if you enjoy it--then cheers. The rest of us will continue to value our collections but what they mean to us and how they help us through each day.

Cardboard therapy is very real.

Joe