Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Centre Daily Times | 05/04/2004 | Where are the wax packs and bubble gum?
Where are the wax packs and bubble gum?
By Todd Ceisner
tceisner@centredaily.com
The other day, I had the urge to be 11 again, to revert back to the glory days of the, uh, late 1980s and to feel the rush -- it's like liquid Bazooka running through your veins -- of tearing, actually delicately cutting, open a pack of baseball cards.
I bought three packs and nearly had to take out a second mortgage.
What in the name of Buddy Biancalana ever happened to 50-cent packs of cards and the powdery, petrified bubble gum that lurked inside?
$2.49 for four cards and no gum? Have we gone mad?
Sadly, I suspect we have.
We're mad for memoribilia now. Mad for a piece of "history." Mad for a thumbnail-sized swatch of Alex Rodriguez's jersey sewn into a sequentially-number card. Mad for a sliver of Barry Bonds' bat, glued to another sequentially-number card. Mad for a chance to say, for example, we were the 1 in 14,458 to pull a Group A autograph card from a pack of 2004 Topps.
Heck, there's probably some game-used Pokemon memorbilia out there.
I yearn for the days of rack packs, jumbo packs and bubble gum, when on any given Saturday, shopping malls would be transformed into trading card Meccas as hobby shop owners and small-time dealers would line the mall concourse with tables covered with boxes and showcases full of our cardboard heroes.
Growing up, I was used to baseball cards being produced by the Big Three -- Topps, Fleer and Donruss. Each company's product had its own quirks that made the cards desirable.
Topps, for instance, is still famous for the interesting media-guide facts about players that it prints on the cardbacks. A sampling: According to current Texas Ranger pitcher Kenny Rogers' 1990 card, he works on his family's strawberry farm; then-Milwaukee Brewer Mike Felder's favorite activities were dancing and bowling, or so says his 1991 card; and then there's the 1987 card of then-Seattle pitcher Matt Young, who led the American League with 19 losses in 1985. According to that card, he enjoyed handball as a means of relaxation.
Donruss offered a couple unique items. Each card would carry the player's full name -- Biancalana's full name, by the way, is Roland Americo Biancalana -- and each pack would contain a piece to a jigsaw puzzle, which honored a different Hall of Fame player each year.
Fleer, made famous by Billy Ripken's obscene bat knob in its 1989 issue, was always good for team logo stickers.
Currently, there's more variety
That's where card collecting has gone these days and it's too bad.
The hobby has gotten too big -- and too pricey -- to attract the teenager consumer who once drove the business.
The packs themselves have evolved as well. You used to be able to peel them open with your eyes closed, all the while hoping, believing that inside would be the sought-after rookie card Ken Griffey Jr. or the one card you needed to complete a set. Nowadays, they're shiny, vacuum-sealed vaults. It's as if you need a PIN and the crew from Ocean's Eleven just to crack one open.
The backs of the packs more resemble a scratch-off lottery ticket -- and math test -- than a treasure of our youth. The odds of pulling:
• a platinum portraits game-used jersey card from the packs of 2004 Fleer Platinum: 1:120 packs;
• a group G autograph from the 2004 Topps regular issue: 1:1,954 packs;
• a Picture Perfect card from the 2004 Leaf Second Edition: 1:45 packs.
And then there's this: On each of the packs I purchased, there is a no purchase necessary section underneath where the odds of getting a special insert card are stated. It allows people a chance to get one of the cards at the same odds without buying a pack.
Except there's one hitch for Canadian entrants. They're required to include the correct answer to a multi-step math problem. Topps wants the answer to 10 x 2 + 8 - 4. Fleer wants the solution to 19 + (23 x 7) - 42. And Leaf expects the right answer to 126 + 504 ÷ 42 x 21 - 48.
My head's spinning. Got any bubble gum?
Where are the wax packs and bubble gum?
By Todd Ceisner
tceisner@centredaily.com
The other day, I had the urge to be 11 again, to revert back to the glory days of the, uh, late 1980s and to feel the rush -- it's like liquid Bazooka running through your veins -- of tearing, actually delicately cutting, open a pack of baseball cards.
I bought three packs and nearly had to take out a second mortgage.
What in the name of Buddy Biancalana ever happened to 50-cent packs of cards and the powdery, petrified bubble gum that lurked inside?
$2.49 for four cards and no gum? Have we gone mad?
Sadly, I suspect we have.
We're mad for memoribilia now. Mad for a piece of "history." Mad for a thumbnail-sized swatch of Alex Rodriguez's jersey sewn into a sequentially-number card. Mad for a sliver of Barry Bonds' bat, glued to another sequentially-number card. Mad for a chance to say, for example, we were the 1 in 14,458 to pull a Group A autograph card from a pack of 2004 Topps.
Heck, there's probably some game-used Pokemon memorbilia out there.
I yearn for the days of rack packs, jumbo packs and bubble gum, when on any given Saturday, shopping malls would be transformed into trading card Meccas as hobby shop owners and small-time dealers would line the mall concourse with tables covered with boxes and showcases full of our cardboard heroes.
Growing up, I was used to baseball cards being produced by the Big Three -- Topps, Fleer and Donruss. Each company's product had its own quirks that made the cards desirable.
Topps, for instance, is still famous for the interesting media-guide facts about players that it prints on the cardbacks. A sampling: According to current Texas Ranger pitcher Kenny Rogers' 1990 card, he works on his family's strawberry farm; then-Milwaukee Brewer Mike Felder's favorite activities were dancing and bowling, or so says his 1991 card; and then there's the 1987 card of then-Seattle pitcher Matt Young, who led the American League with 19 losses in 1985. According to that card, he enjoyed handball as a means of relaxation.
Donruss offered a couple unique items. Each card would carry the player's full name -- Biancalana's full name, by the way, is Roland Americo Biancalana -- and each pack would contain a piece to a jigsaw puzzle, which honored a different Hall of Fame player each year.
Fleer, made famous by Billy Ripken's obscene bat knob in its 1989 issue, was always good for team logo stickers.
Currently, there's more variety
That's where card collecting has gone these days and it's too bad.
The hobby has gotten too big -- and too pricey -- to attract the teenager consumer who once drove the business.
The packs themselves have evolved as well. You used to be able to peel them open with your eyes closed, all the while hoping, believing that inside would be the sought-after rookie card Ken Griffey Jr. or the one card you needed to complete a set. Nowadays, they're shiny, vacuum-sealed vaults. It's as if you need a PIN and the crew from Ocean's Eleven just to crack one open.
The backs of the packs more resemble a scratch-off lottery ticket -- and math test -- than a treasure of our youth. The odds of pulling:
• a platinum portraits game-used jersey card from the packs of 2004 Fleer Platinum: 1:120 packs;
• a group G autograph from the 2004 Topps regular issue: 1:1,954 packs;
• a Picture Perfect card from the 2004 Leaf Second Edition: 1:45 packs.
And then there's this: On each of the packs I purchased, there is a no purchase necessary section underneath where the odds of getting a special insert card are stated. It allows people a chance to get one of the cards at the same odds without buying a pack.
Except there's one hitch for Canadian entrants. They're required to include the correct answer to a multi-step math problem. Topps wants the answer to 10 x 2 + 8 - 4. Fleer wants the solution to 19 + (23 x 7) - 42. And Leaf expects the right answer to 126 + 504 ÷ 42 x 21 - 48.
My head's spinning. Got any bubble gum?
