Baseball Card Trading Season
A hammer, a 5-gallon bucket, and a broken bicycle bell. What do these three things have in common? Answer: baseball card trading.
Perhaps I should explain.
My boys, especially the five older ones, have really gotten into collecting baseball cards. I mean, Topps should be sending me a personal thank you for boosting their sales this year. Now, I’m not the one buying them, the boys are using their own money but it’s still all my fault.
Not only did I introduce them to card collecting I made the mistake of mentioning a rare card that a kid found in a pack of cards that recently sold for a million dollars. The thought that the next one-of-one card could be in the next pack of cards they buy created a Willy Wonky-esque frenzy of card buying at out house.
To their credit, after repeated reminders that I didn’t want them chasing rare cards by blowing all their cash on baseball cards, they reigned things in and started focusing on the classic aspects of baseball card collecting. Like trading.
I’m a big fan of baseball card trading. I don’t recall doing all that much myself as a kid but the boys got the hang of it quickly. And, with so many brothers to trade with, there’s always a trade someone wants and almost always someone to take it.
During a recent trading session (which is started in our house by loudly stating, “the trading floor is open!”) there was a particularly frenzied transaction. What started as one boy offering a swap for some particular card turned into four boys trying to outbid each other and resulted in the first auction trade.
Once they got a taste of the highly competitive environment of auctioning off a card the boys were hooked. So much so that I had to impose a rule that a baseball card can only be traded for another baseball card which means you can’t trade for: toys, chores, or cash.
Ok, back to the bucket, hammer, and broken bell.
A couple days ago I heard a boy announce, “the trading floor is open” and saw boys rushing to get their binders of cards. I heard the 12-year-old say, “I’ve got the world’s best table” and saw the boys heading to the playroom.
When I walked in I saw the 10-year-old sitting on one side of the room. He had an orange 5-gallon bucket (the aforementioned world’s best table) flipped over next to him and a baseball card on a stand on top of it. Next to the bucket he had a small hammer and the broken bike bell.
Undeterred by my presence, the 10-year-old began auctioning off the card on the stand asking for specific trades and calling out going once, going twice and driving in more offers. Then with a sharp rap on the broken bell with the little hammer --ding– sold!
I don’t know that the formal card collecting community would approve of this set up, but you certainly can’t say they’re not enjoying themselves. And finding great uses for a broken bicycle bell.