Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Shuffled deck
The troubled card industry is finding ways to adjust to the competition.
The days of cruising around the neighborhood to the rattle of baseball cards in the spokes of your bicycle wheels are going, going, gone.
The traditional baseball card industry is in a slump, losing its appeal and its money. But national card manufacturers and retailers in the Roanoke Valley are working to pump interest back into a hobby that once occupied the boyhood dreams of men who are now middle-aged.
"Today it's cardboard with player autographs, it's cardboard with game worn memorabilia on it, it's rookie cards with rare print runs," said Tracy Hackler, associate publisher of Beckett Media, which publishes price guides for sports collectibles.
On Colonial Avenue, Pine Spur Sports and its adjoining store, The Wax Box, are filled with baseball cards, signed and framed photographs, football helmets and the like.
Bill Campbell, who collected cards when he was a kid, is keeping his fingers crossed that interest, once driven by children and teenagers, will bounce back.
"You can't make money just doing that anymore," said Campbell, the owner of Pine Spur Sports. "You have to diversify."
Card shops practically laugh in the face of sellers who try to make money off the box sets they bought during a speculative late 1980s and early '90s movement that has come to a crashing halt.
Campbell wraps them up and uses the surplus as kindle.
Just kidding.
Roanoke market
Roanoke, which has seen the demise of multiple minor-league sports teams, is not an easy place to sell sports stuff, Campbell said.
His card shops have a standard base of customers, either fathers buying cards for their 8- and 10-year olds, or rich fellows looking to secure their retirement. But the area lacks an enthusiasm for card buying that is present in larger cities, Campbell said.
Other shop owners agree.
"I think that if I was in New York or if I was in downtown Atlanta, it would probably be a lot easier," said Ernest Daniel, owner of B&C Sports Cards and Collectibles, which has a store in Valley View Mall. "I think my sales would probably be two to three times more."
Yet interest is slowly re-emerging, local owners say. B&C even has plans to expand its Roanoke store.
Take Harold Hurt, a 52-year-old Roanoker. Hurt collected cards in elementary school and through high school in hopes of scoring some big cash down the road.
Now Hurt laughs at the idea of actually making a profit from his collection, which, he said, totals somewhere between 50,000 and 80,000 cards. And yet Hurt continues to travel to yard sales and card shops looking for more cards to stash under his bed and in his closet.
He plans to sell the collection one day, much to the dismay of his grandson, Chris Richards.
Richards, a 16-year-old William Fleming student, is the only one of his peers who collects cards and memorabilia.
He said his friends are usually playing video games or playing sports, but not collecting cards.
"Our main competition is the sale of video games," said Daniel, the B&C owner.
So instead of focusing on traditional sales, Campbell makes most of his money on fancy framed photographs or endorsements of professional athletes he represents at autograph shows.
Popularity in vintage collectibles, things like tobacco cards, has steadily increased, too. It's a way of unsaturating a market that has been flooded with goods.
The demise
Brien Taylor was drafted No. 1 overall by the Yankees in 1991 and signed a $1.55 million contract out of high school. The left-hander had collectors dishing out more than $30 for his 1992 Topps Gold Autograph card, according to Tuff Stuff Magazine. But Taylor suffered a torn labrum in his throwing shoulder after a bar fight. He never threw a pitch in the big leagues.
It is that kind of speculation that led to a shattered card market in the late '80s and early '90s.
As buyers bought up sets of cards, manufacturers continued to produce. Supply eventually outpaced demand and cards produced in that time period became worthless.
Now, card producers are going to estates, finding old checks signed by dead superstars and slapping them below a photo. Talk about reducing supply -- but those moves are making some pieces pretty pricey. For example, a 1932 New York Yankees American League Champions Photo Collage goes for $900. It isn't even signed.
Card packs, which cost anywhere from $2 to $80, and boxed sets, which run around $60, are decorated with autographs and inserts of jerseys that have been torn apart and distributed as little pieces into select packs. Lower numbered cards are worth more.
A concentrated industry
But a looming sale of Topps could change everything. The New York-based company has had offers to sell from Upper Deck ($425 million) and from former Disney CEO Michael Eisner and company ($384.5 million).
Even the Major League Baseball Player's Association, which controls the use of team images and players, has taken steps to reinvigorate the dying hobby by reducing the companies that can produce licensed cards from four to two: Topps and Upper Deck.
As for the other large manufacturers, Donruss has stuck to its NFL series after the announcement that they would not have a license with MLB. Fleer filed for bankruptcy in 2005; its assets went to Upper Deck.
It's the stars that are hurting things, too, Campbell said. Most players change teams often. Gone are the days of a one-team man, such as Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn.
Hackler agreed, but also attributes the shift to new technology.
"Sports wasn't an around-the-clock then like it is now," he said. "So there was a practical purpose for collecting cards back then."
Instead of taking the time to track down their favorite guy, kids are turning to video games and the Internet.
Upper Deck, a California-based card maker, has made moves to attract kid consumers to its Web site by putting a code on cards that children can use to collect stuff like music gift certificates and memorabilia.
Giving collectors an incentive, such bonus points, can help keep the hobby alive, but there isn't a magic pill.
"It'll be a slow process," Hackler said.





