Earlier this week, an 70-year-old piece of cardboard, measuring nearly nine square inches, sold for $12.6 million.
What’s so special about this piece of cardboard? On its front, it had a picture and name of a baseball player — one Mickey Mantle of the New York Yankees. On the back, it had some biographical and statistical information about said Mr. Mantle.
Fans of baseball history, trading cards, or pop culture as a whole know that I’m talking about the 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle card #311 — one of the most famous and obviously valuable items of its kind of all time.
Over the last 40 years, the value of this card — to those lucky enough to find, have, buy, or sell one — has gone higher and higher along with its legend, perhaps with a legend even eclipsing that of “The Mick”.
The card in question that was recently sold was said to be of the highest quality of any of them on the market or in someone’s protective possession. It was rated “9.5” out of a possible 10.
News reports said the sale made the 1952 Mantle the highest-selling sports trading card of all time, beating the previous mark set by the (“inside baseball” alert) T206 Honus Wagner card from 1909 that sold for a modest $7.5 million.
That card’s size is a fraction of the surface area compared with the Mantle, which probably had nothing to do with its cost, but it makes you wonder why people are spending a combined nearly $20 million on tiny pieces of cardboard with pictures on them (the Honus Wagner card doesn’t even have statistics, just a cigarette advertisement).
What makes something worth something?
I’m going to come clean with you all and be honest.
In my possession, I have a nearly nine-square-inch piece of cardboard. It has a picture of Mickey Mantle on it. It says “311” on the back. It contains biographical and statistical information. It also says, in reddish lettering of the style of the times “TOPPS BASEBALL” on the back.
How much did I pay for it, you want to know?
Alright, I’ll tell you if you promise not to treat me any differently than anyone else.
I spent $9.99 on it, not including shipping.
Wait. Wut?
How is someone spending more than $12 million and Kevin only spent less than $10 on his?
Simple. Mine is an officially-license reprint of the iconic card that was released after Mantle’s death in the mid-1990s.
Mine is arguably in a lot better condition than most of the 1952 Topps Mantles sold and even has some gold foiling on the front.
It has the same picture, words, and graphics on it as the ones being sold at auctions I’m not good enough to get into, yet, it’s worth about $10.
I’m intelligent enough to realize why this is before anyone starts feverishly writing me about supply and demand, authenticity, and all of the other factors that make the 1952 1952 Mantle worth more than the 1996 1952 Mantle, so cool it a bit.
It’s incredible to think about though. As far as the material intentional value, I’m looking at the exact same thing the millionaires are looking at and I don’t need an armored case or guards with me to take it from one place to another.
Ask yourself what would you rather have.
The authentic issue which could cost you a fortune and include nothing but headaches taking care of it, or a more accessible experience that could lead to a much more enjoyable experience?
No one wrote a news story on me last year when I got my 1952* Mantle, but I could argue I was just as happy, if not more, upon slipping it in its hard plastic case and looking at it in a slight awe and wonder.
I don’t think having the “real” one could have improved that experience.
What’s worth it to you?
I’m not going to judge anyone that wants to spend the coin on the “real thing,” whatever that may be.
If it makes you happy, brings joy in your life, and can lead to some good, go for it.
But, are there other places in our lives where a reprint would work just as well as the real thing?
Whether it’s a house, car, stereo, phone, video gaming system, or whatever things people are actually spending their money on these days, do you want/need the item, or are you buying the allure and the pride that comes with it?
Think about the last time you bought something and then regretted it. What was the regrettable element? The cost? The functionality? The fact you would have been happy with something else, but went against your better instincts and went with flash or attention instead?
It’s OK to be modest in our material possessions.
No one might write a news story about you, but you could be happy nonetheless.
Thank you for reading.
I’m praying for you.