By Susan Lulgjuraj | Beckett Sports Card Monthly Editor

The Olympic Pavilion is returning the National Sports Collectors Convention in Chicago this summer.

Two years ago, officials from the NSCC joined with members of the Olympin Collectors Club to bring memorabilia to the National. They are back again after taking last year off due to the 2012 London Games.

Memorabilia at the Olympic Pavilion comes from so many aspects of the international sporting event. Different items include pins, medals, badges, programs, apparel, paintings and other paraphernalia.

“If you are not familiar with this collection specialty you will be amazed by the quality and amount,” said the NSCC is a release. “The Olympic Pavilion will attract collectors from the U.S. and many other countries. Olympic Memorabilia on display will range from the start of the modern Olympics in Athens in 1896 to items promoting the upcoming Winter Olympics in 2014 (Sochi).”

Former Olympic athletes are scheduled to appear at the show. Olympic Gold Medalists Dick Fosbury, inventor of the “Fosbury Flop” style of high jumping, and Bob Beamon, who broke the long jump record in the 1968 Mexico City Games, will be there. Fosbury and Beamon are scheduled to appear at the VIP Reception to sign free autographs on Wednesday. Both will also appear at the National Sneak Peek to sign and will be available in the Olympic Pavilion during the week.

The National will take place July 31-August 4 at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont, Ill.

Susan Lulgjuraj is an editor of Beckett Sports Card Monthly. You can email her here with questions, comments or ideas. Follow her on Twitter here. Follow Beckett Media on Facebook and Twitter.

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Just wanted to let you know that I liked reading your article “You May Not Want to Meet Your Favorite Stars,” which was written around the misfortune of meeting Mr. Reggie Jackson.

I’d like to start off by saying that I am a 33-year-old from Toronto and a long-time baseball card collector.  I buy Beckett price guides a couple times a year, as I mostly buy older cards, specifically 1950s and 1960s, and I figure they don’t change in value that much … not that I collect for the value, anyways. For me, it is mostly collecting guys who I respect or who have met, and that is why your article spoke volumes to me.

I go to Cooperstown, N.Y., every summer for the annual Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony, and I have had the privilege to meet many Hall of Famers who have generally all been very nice, with the exception of a miserable Whitey Ford, but that is another story.  I recently met “Mr. Cub” Ernie Banks who is most likely the nicest man you’d ever want to meet. Put it this way, I am now in the market for an Ernie Banks Rookie Card. He was awesome, and he even hit on my wife which I didn’t mind because he’s Ernie Banks!

It is always a conflicting moment when we can meet our favorite athletes, because you don’t want your boyhood image of them to be tarnished, but like with Reggie Jackson and your encounter with him, sadly that happens.  When I read your article, I thought about everything I had heard about him from people in Cooperstown, and your encounter with him is not an isolated one. He is not well-liked, and I have always avoided him while in the mecca of baseball … many people do. He often has the shortest lines for autographs and this past summer, he didn’t even show his face mostly because of the negativity he spoke [with Alex Rodriguez] this past summer.

I enjoyed your article, but was not surprised that you had the experience you did with Mr. Jackson.  You’d think that he would be kind or even a bit polite, especially at the National Convention … especially because he needs to make a living some how nowadays … and his autograph is still wanted, for now that is.

– Jon Laframboise, Toronto

—

Thanks for the response. There were many emails about that column — some from people in the industry and others who have just had similar encounters. It was exciting to hear from some people I hadn’t expected to hear from — and unfortunate to hear that so many had experiences similar to mine. — Chris Olds

Chris Olds is the editor of Beckett Baseball magazine. Have a comment, question or idea? Send an email to him at colds@beckett.com. Follow him on Twitter by clicking here.

By Chris Olds | Beckett Baseball Editor | Commentary

We’re about a week removed from the National Sports Collectors Convention in Baltimore and since then a couple of things have resonated with me about the hobby and its premiere event.

It’s still pretty strong — but it could still be stronger.

Not stronger in practical ways like more dealers, more space, more education and more discussions. That’s easy, and it’s stuff that could be done — by NSCC organizers or others attending the event (some companies did). But it could also be stronger as in potentially bringing in more of corporate America, more star power in different ways and making it feel more like The Event of All Events — something that can raise the profile of the hobby beyond just those in it, a way to ensure that those who used to collect can realize that it’s all still around and that the cardboard is better than it was in the past, too.

Panini America‘s VIP party on Aug. 4 showed how a bit of that might be possible as the company put on a show beyond the card show.

Sure, a reception like the one Panini held is an image thing — but it didn’t have to be done. It was also something that helped bolster sales of its products on the show floor ($6,500 Panini Bucks had to be collected on the show floor via purchases to attend with a cap of approximately 50 attendees). That, in and of itself, is not unique — other companies did the same thing with promo cards or prizes in return — but what Panini offered was an experience for a few collectors and selected VIPs, a smaller and different environment that could have been rewarding enough to make a lasting impression with some of those who attended.

How? It was the little things like NHL legend Gordie Howe greeting each and every attendee as they walked into the door with each of them having the option of getting their photo taken with the 84-year-old icon by party photographer Brandon P. Cohen, whose work you can see here. (Even my new iPhone couldn’t compete with his professional lens.) It was a leather Panini gift bag for all of the VIP attendees with an exclusive Black Box and a quantity of silver NSCC packs that would make any show-goer blush.

And that was just as you got in the door.

Gordie was joined by his son and fellow Hall of Famer, Mark Howe, while additional autograph guests included future baseball Hall of Famer Ivan Rodriguez, Pro Football Hall of Famer John Riggins, NBA Hall of Famers Elvin Hayes and Wes Unseld along with current Detroit Piston Brandon Knight. All signed for those who asked on event-specific photographs, while some (Pudge) also took the time to quietly sign some sticker sheets for future products once the attention on them focused elsewhere. As collectors worked the floor for signatures in a low-key fashion — without the massive lines of the autograph sessions back at the Baltimore Convention Center — music was under control by guest DJ Biz Markie (yep, that Biz Markie), who signed a few autographs, too, before helping with prize announcements and even offering to sell the Panini ice sculpture in the room to the highest bidder.

But it wasn’t just the hired star power that made this event — one where Rated Rookie T-shirts and blazers were as formal as it got — but the VIPs from the hobby that were in attendance, too. Key players in the industry were there alongside shop owners and dealers talking cards, talking business, talking the hobby while producers and personalities from ESPN and myself took it all in from a slightly different perspective. Also working the room was Notorious B.O.B., Bob Shoudt, a record-holding competitive eater and collector, who presented people with his own Panini event-used memorabilia card, while the cast of ABC’s Ball Boys — a reality TV show about one aspect of the hobby — soaked in the scene with Robbie Sr. acting like he won several of the prizes as winning numbers were announced. (How long until they have some cardboard?)

The surreal moments (here’s where I mention Markie helped sing “Happy Birthday” to Riggins) that this meshing of worlds created showed that the hobby just might benefit from more show in the show moments — though showmanship is costly. How does something like this benefit the hobby besides making a good impression with a few insiders? An event like this one could perhaps be the start of getting the card industry, the hobby, a higher profile. The seeds of potential for the business — the possibilities — could have been planted with any one of the many there, and each of them could potentially do something in their own ways to help eschew the too-easy notion that collecting is dead (we’ve heard that story before) or something else to help energize their piece of the hobby, which might have a trickle-down effect.

This kind of an effort might show that at least some in the hobby are looking to expand it beyond an experience of sitting back and collecting collectors’ cash — though it’s never been that simple, it might seem that way to some. While it’s easy for sports leagues (those atop the financial food chain) to put on bashes such as these, it’s not for those further down. But this showed me it might not be a stretch to envision a sports card world with a little more influence from elsewhere in the business world, a little more star power, and maybe a little more besides cards inside that gift bag, though things such as EA Sports video games were among prizes at the party. (They are a different animal, but have you ever seen what’s in an ESPY’s gift bag? Corporate America right there.) But card companies have to be actively seeking those things and be in positions to make those deals. An event such as this one? To me, it shows Panini is paying attention to things like that — that it’s not just about one aspect of the business and that the experience is as important as the product.

Now, while there was plenty going on at the event, ultimately it did come down to the cardboard. More than a few tables had collectors huddling around them to see what they could find inside their stack of packs — and more than a few moments were had as autographs, Rookie Premiere towel cards and more were discovered. It was a scene not unlike that of the show floor or a neighborhood card shop at times — and yet Panini was the only company that opted to create a little extra show at the show.

For some of those VIPs, it was maybe a good way to unwind or a way to help cover their costs of the week. For others, it might have been exposure to something new or a surprise that they hadn’t yet seen before — something that may prompt exposure for the hobby in a different way. You never know.

For me, it was just an experience, and it was one that affirmed to me that there’s still untapped potential out there in the hobby.

Chris Olds is the editor of Beckett Baseball magazine. Have a comment, question or idea? Send an email to him at colds@beckett.com. Follow him on Twitter by clicking here.

 By Chris Olds | Beckett Baseball Editor | Commentary

The National Sports Collectors Convention is the place you visit to pick up memories, add to your collections that you have built over a lifetime and, in a way, shape your own personal view of the sports world.

With my final hour of my final day at the show winding down, it was now-or-never time for finding a certain memorable item to add to my collection since I had purchased just a couple small items — nothing necessary, nothing remotely memorable — while working. Before this year’s event, I had told myself that I should find one item — a better piece — that I could remember the show by, so that was what was in my mind as I made my way out of the Beckett bullpen with one of our writers and we headed down one aisle.

What I got in that last hour was something I never in my life could have expected — something I could have never want-listed or dreamt about. It wasn’t a Rookie Card or an autograph, it wasn’t an unusual piece of memorabilia I couldn’t find anywhere else.

What I got was Reggie Jackson.

What I got was not Reggie on a signed 1969 Topps Rookie Card (something I had eyed the previous year; above) or Reggie on an old candy bar long past its prime. I got the Reggie that made Billy Martin even angrier. I got the Reggie that made reporters cringe. I got the Reggie that made teammates scowl.

I got what made Reggie  ”The Straw That Stirs The Drink.” I got the Reggie that I have heard stories about from show promotors and autograph-acquiring companies in the past.

I got berated for taking photo of Reggie Jackson by Reggie Jackson.

We had walked a distance from our bullpen toward some dealers on that side of the Baltimore Convention Center, breezing by some tables, stopping at others. We came up on a table where, a bit earlier in the day, Jackson had been posing with a bat while looking at items one dealer had for sale. After all, he was at the show to sign and he’s also been known as a collector of memorabilia, cards and sports cars (much of it lost in a fire long ago). Turns out, he was still there. We were 10 to 15 feet away from Jackson when two of our writers came up to tell us they were leaving for the day, giving us their last contacts before hitting the road.

Those of us remaining took a few more steps forward, stopping at the table to look at whatever treasures were there when I said, “I guess I should get a picture of Reggie” and started fidgeting with my iPhone, raising it once but it was on my video setting from filming wax breaks and other videos before. I switched its settings and took a few more steps forward when a couple of other collectors walked off after taking a picture of the Hall of Famer from across the two tables.

From six or so feet away, I framed up the image of him and card industry legend  Ken Goldin, who was beside him, looking at a baseball and clicked once (the image at the top) as Jackson himself just started to click.

“How many you need?” he quipped (at least I think thats what he said as it was all a blur). “Take a couple and move on.”

A bit surprised, I looked to my right but nobody was there and spun around to see where my writer had went. Jackson was talking to me and he wasn’t done.

“How many do you need? Six, seven … 10, 11?” clearly agitated and not kidding. “Take a couple and move on.”

“I got one,” I said, holding up a single finger. “One.”

For a split-second, I contemplated saying something to Goldin — a “How are you doing?” and an introduction to break the unnecessary tension as I had talked to him before last year’s show, make Jackson realize he might have screwed up by berating a member of the media. But I was stunned, and I doubted Jackson would care.

All I could come up with was “I’m an A’s fan.” in a flustered response, raising both of my hands over my head, not believing the surreal circumstances.

Jackson wasn’t done barking at me like I was one of the reporters in those 1970s news clips.

“Buy my drinks and I’ll pose for photos with you all night,” he said (or something close to it) as the few other people around on his side of the table chuckled. I quickly quipped “sure” as the laughter died down, but he didn’t hear it and I was done with it. I wondered whether that was his way of making up for being Reggie.

It might have been, but I wasn’t sure so I walked off.

–

I was stunned for the rest of the show — the single image was taken at 5:10 p.m. on Aug. 4, according to my iPhone — and I tried to replay it all to myself and to the writer who witnessed it, a few recaps muttered with adjectives that couldn’t be written here.  (“Man, TMZ would have loved that on video,” I later thought.) We worked our way down a few other tables and found a dealer selling ticket stubs, stopped and looked — I was instantly reminded of Jackson again when one Yankees stub showed Jackson from the 1977 World Series.

I was done, annoyed once again. I didn’t buy another thing at the show. Less than 1/10th of the money I brought with me for buying was spent — a record-low.

At first it was shock as this life-long Oakland A’s fan was being trash-talked by one of the guys he’d have on his Mount Rushmore of A’s collecting — Reggie, Rickey, Jose and Swish. Then I thought back to the old notion that “you never want to meet your favorite player” because he might quash your entire image of him and why you collect. But that wasn’t it for me — I’ve met Canseco and I’ve met Swisher — neither was like this. (Heck, I could have met Henderson had I been in the Beckett booth for the whole show — he stopped and took a picture with members of our crew. That’s something I would not have expected out of Rickey.)

Instead, by a short time later and still feeling conflicted, I realized I got Reggie. I got the Reggie that isn’t the Reggie showing when the dog and pony show of the TV cameras are around at an event like the National. No, no. I got the real Reggie.

For me, he’s one of a kind. For him, I’m one of a million (or two). None of this really shocks me — put yourself in his shoes. Doesn’t make it right, but he’s been in the spotlight longer than I have been alive. I’ll give him that. But when I’m in the shoes of the one being treated poorly? Well, it’s different.

I got Reggie — one part of that puzzle that made him an enigma, a star. I got Reggie — the part that we may not always like, but it’s there.

He stirred me up. I hear he’s good at that.

Never once did I have any inclination of asking Reggie for an autograph — one that, oddly, I don’t have through all these years — I preferred just a snapshot from afar. I got much more, and it oddly sort of made my 2012 NSCC, too — but not in an overwhelmingly positive way.

I was ready to sign off on this entire story by the end of the night, but it ironically presented itself once again the next morning.

My flight out of Baltimore left at 7 a.m., which meant about two hours of sleep after a late-night VIP event I needed to attend on Saturday night. We got to the airport with no problems, and I quickly worked my way to a newsstand location for breakfast and the first food of any kind in about 10 hours. I made a beeline for a $4 bottle of Evian (that, to me was like finding a Honus Wagner in an attic), some pretzels, a sandwich and sleepily rolled to the check-out stand.

It was a line that couldn’t move fast enough as my head hurt just as much as the rest of me after a long show. I leaned on my suitcase, and I glanced up at what was on the counter in front of me to see what the hold-up was. In a sleepy haze I noticed three newspapers — two being New York tabloids — being stacked to be bought, and I remembered my days of working in the industry. “Oldschool readers are still around,” I thought to myself. “That’s good.” Then I glanced over and up … and that’s when everything seemingly went into slow-motion.

It was Reggie Jackson.

Again.

Part of me really wanted to ask him if I could buy his papers instead of his drinks just to see his reaction. But I really didn’t want to get Reggied one more time and we had a person in line between us. Yet, I also wondered if he’d remember me — after all, it might not be that hard to unless he made a habit out of berating fat guys in white dress shirts and khakis at the show. (That’s what I was wearing at the airport, too.)

Even though he treated me like something damp and useless beneath the napkin below The Drink just 13 or so hours earlier, I didn’t want to blow his cover to anyone around us. (I wasn’t a jackass before, wasn’t going to be now — not my style.) Instead, once again in shock, I watched as he paid and walked across the hall in a straight line to the Bayside Landing restaurant to sit and wait for a flight. I collected my things and moved on toward my gate. I ate my breakfast among the crowd and mentally recapped the whole thing, chuckling at it all.

But then I started to think about one more thing.

I collected my belongings and headed back toward the restaurant and the newsstand, intent on doing one more thing to cap this story if Jackson was still there and he was. It was 6:26 a.m. on Aug. 5, according to my iPhone, when facing the wall across from him using my two-way camera just in case he turned around to leave, I snapped this Nighthawks/Edward Hopper-style photo of Jackson, age 66, alone and far, far away from stirring anything.

It’s just my second photo of Reggie Jackson.

It’s the way I’ll choose to remember him for this trip.

Chris Olds is the editor of Beckett Baseball magazine. Have a comment, question or idea? Send an email to him at colds@beckett.com. Follow him on Twitter by clicking here.

By Ben Aguirre Jr. | Contributing Writer | Commentary

BALTIMORE – The proof is in the details.

From the day that I found a game-used 1977 Baltimore Orioles Earl Weaver jersey in a San Francisco Bay Area thrift store, there has always been one tell-all sign that what I had located was truly a garment worn by the Hall of Fame manager himself.

The giveaway?

“Does it have the pocket for my cigarettes?” Weaver said Saturday at the National Sports Collectors Convention as he handled the jersey, placing his right middle and index fingers over the area where the chain-smoking skipper kept his pack. “Oh … yeah.”

Weaver is an elder statesman of the game and life, physically showing his 81 years of age. (He’ll be 82 on Aug. 12.)  He wore a black wrist guard on his right hand and winced when I shook his left hand with my own. But his mind is there, and so is the classic spark that made him the poster boy of bad boy managers who enjoyed verbal sparring with umpires.

“Ow, you’re gonna hurt my hand, dammit,” he said as I thought I shook his hand gently. “I’ve got arthritis you know.”

The handshake was a classic moment, one that could not have been written in a script anywhere. Which really was apropos considering that the circumstances of this encounter between Weaver and I were unlikely to begin with.

The story began about a year ago when I was making my thrift store rounds, which I often do seeking out sports collectibles in second-hand stores.  It was a mid-week jaunt to a series of shops in the Bay Area. I hadn’t located anything of real value all day until I walked into a shop in Hayward, Calif. As soon as I stepped in the door, there were two mysterious jerseys staring at me from the distance.

They were hanging on the clothes rack just like any other discarded replica fan jersey – seemingly worthless and tattered.  From a distance, all I could see was the black and orange colored striped on the sleeves. I initially thought they were older remakes of the local San Francisco Giants jersey, which still would have been a cool find.

But as it turned out, they were giants all right … giant scores for a thrift hunter. The jerseys were Orioles jerseys, authentic baseball shirts; one for pitcher Mike Torrez (issued for 1976) and the other for Weaver.

When you hit big finds in a thrift store, there is always a moment of truth before you can scream from the roof tops:  It’s getting past the cashier before they start questioning why the item is priced so low.

As soon as paid for the items, I quickly walked to my car fearing that someone else would notice that I had purchased a piece of baseball history for a mere $3. And once I was secured in my vehicle, I carefully examined the jerseys again to confirm my notions.  The fact that these two jerseys were found together gave me a pretty good indication that they were authentic, but their tagging was spot-on and the pocket sewn to the interior of the Weaver jersey was the calling card.

I showed images of the jerseys almost instantly via Twitter, which received a great response.  But for months the jersey sat dormant in my collection, its fate uncertain. Was I going to sell it, frame it, or put it in a garment bag and wait. I decided on the later.

Sort of out of the blue, I was asked in December to write about the find for the February edition of Beckett Sports Cards Monthly, which was a topical issue about game-used memorabilia.

The story of my thrift treasure was revitalized for a while.  I showed the jersey off to a few more friends and family. And several months later, TRISTAR released the list of its signers for the National, which was being held in the city where Weaver solidified his place in baseball history. Weaver was on the list.

Crazy thoughts entered my mind. Was I really going to scrounge up the cash to pay for flight and hotel to get this jersey signed?  Initially, the answer was no. It was a ridiculous notion. But things fell into place and suddenly I was on my way to Baltimore. I was briefly going to re-unite the game-used jersey with the Hall of Famer who made it famous.

I’d never been to a National, but if I was going to make the cross-country trip to go to a sports card show, there had better be a good reason for it. This certainly was.

In the days before the trip, I worked four 10.5-hour days and had little sleep the entire week leading up to the event.  Then I took a red-eye flight from San Francisco to Baltimore for the eventual meeting with Weaver.

On Saturday, I woke up and felt uneasy about the Weaver signing. Was this thing really going to happen? A day earlier TRISTAR had four autograph signers cancel their appearances for various reasons. I was still a bit skeptical because I held autograph ticket No. 10, meaning I was just the 10th person to purchase a ticket — and I bought mine only a week before the event.

Would Weaver cancel due to a lack of interest?

All of these thoughts remained with me as I toted the piece of baseball history through the streets of Baltimore. But a short while later, my frazzled nerves were calmed shortly after I was introduced to employees of a card company who wanted to see the jersey.

After a brief discussion with the card company employees, I was led to a booth where people who know Weaver were selling authentic signed items from the Orioles and legendary players.

“They’ll get a kick out of it,” the card company employee said as we walked.

When we got to the booth, the person whom we were looking for was not there – he was already behind the scenes with Weaver in the show’s autograph area. But another person in the know wanted to see the jersey. They took a look at the jersey and instantly reached for the custom flap of fabric sewn to the inside.

“You know how you know this is real?” he said. “It’s got the pocket.”

I then shared the story of where the jersey was found and how much it cost.

“You paid how much?” he said. “Unbelievable.”

Exactly.

Ben Aguirre is a Contributing Writer for Beckett Media and author of the blog Cardboardicons.com. You can follow him on Twitter.

 By Ben Aguirre Jr. | Contributing Writer | Commentary

BALTIMORE | “Everything over here is $1 or $2, and everything over there is 50 cents,” one dealer says.

“And if you pick out a lot, I’ll give you a good deal.”

That was an actual selling point one dealer was shouting Friday as he was drawing customers to his booth to dig through the various so-called bargain boxes.

In reality, words to this effect are fairly common place at sports card shows such as the National Sports Collectors Convention.  There are bargain bins at just about every other dealer booth.

And to me, those selling points are music to my ears.

As I noted in the latest Beckett Sports Card Monthly, one of my primary objectives in attending regional card shows is to raid the bargain boxes.

I came to Baltimore this weekend not to talk like a pirate, but to act like one – to pillage and plunder through box after box until the treasures within these chests were mine.

And after two days of surviving the stormy seas of the crowded showroom floor at the Baltimore Convention Center, I have managed to acquire roughly 250 cards from two dealers, cards that collectively have book values between $1,200 low book and $2,000 high book value.

Rookies, inserts, low-numbered serial-numbered parallels, short prints, variations, etc. You name it and they are all there.

My cost for these treasures?  A mere $112 – less than a box of 2012 Bowman Platinum. (Those are running $119 on the showroom floor, by the way.)

Mickey Mantle and Michael Jordan were never commons in this hobby, yet some of their cards these days are being treated as such as they are left to wade in the choppy waters of the bargain boxes — their corners and edges subjected to damage as collector after collector begins their journey through the boxes.

Luckily, for these two players, I managed to save their cardboard lives before they could be destroyed.  As soon as I found them for 50 cents each, I plucked them from the sea and brought them aboard the proverbial Jolly Roger.

From one dealer I acquired 70 Mantle insert cards for $35. The high book value of these cards alone was upward of $900. And not a single one of these are those 2006 Topps Mickey Mantle Home Run Continuity cards that collectors love to hate.

Also from the same seller I located not one, but two, 1980-81 Topps Magic Johnson Rookie Cards.  True, they were detached from the original three-panel perforated card that also featured Julius Erving and Larry Bird, but these were legitimate RCs of perhaps the greatest point guard to ever play in the NBA.

At that price, and with the boon in miniature card craze, these Johnson cards were a no-brainer.

With more than 200 cards being purchased thus far, I obviously am not going to attempt to list each one I’ve found, but there are a quite a few that are listed in the Beckett Online Price Guide as having values between $10 and $40 each. (Oh, and the cards numbered to 25 above? Just 50 cents apiece.)

And if you’re sitting there shaking your head asking the question: “How does this happen in a day and age of so many buying to resell” you’ve essentially answered your own question by asking the question.

A lot of these cards in the bargain bins were part of massive collection purchases where their existence was forgotten.  They were not the prize of the deal in which they were acquired.

The result is a winning situation for collectors who are willing to take the time to treasure hunt.

Ben Aguirre is a Contributing Writer for Beckett Media and author of the blog Cardboardicons.com. You can follow him on Twitter. 

Join Beckett Baseball‘s Chris Olds as he opens a 2012 Bowman Platinum Blue parallel set — an exclusive wrapper-redemption item at this year’s National Sports Collectors Convention that has been a tough get for some collectors.

What will he find inside? Will there be any autographs? Watch and find out …

Join Beckett Media’s Chris Olds and Susan Lulgjuraj as they rip into a box of 2012 Platinum Prospects from Onyx Authenticated in this latest edition of Box Busters.

What will they find? Watch and find out …

By Chris Olds | Beckett Baseball Editor | Commentary

The hobby, the trading card industry and the collecting world’s showcase event — the National Sports Collectors Convention — is under way in Baltimore and, in a word, it’s … unbelievable.

For the first-time visitors, for the hobby veterans who might remember even larger shows, for the dealers, for the manufacturers — all of us — it’s still big. It’s still The One but for various reasons depending on who you are. I’ve been to several and it’s still something unlike I’ve seen before.

It’s the one time a year where nearly all of the manufacturers are in one place, where a majority of the nation’s notable dealers and auction houses converge and where countless collectors examine hundreds of thousands — if not millions of cards (it’s got to be) — all in one roof.

But for me personally, it’s The One where I get to hear feedback from many of you I don’t hear from regularly — long-time readers from as far away as Vancouver or people who stopped by the Beckett booth a few times looking for me to offer their thanks in a way beyond buying our products. It’s The One where I often don’t even go with a want list because it’s the one where you’ll see things you never imagined seeing. Why? because you see items simply wouldn’t think it would exist or imagine finding.

It’s The One where I wish there were 48 hours in a day, I didn’t have to sleep, could stand all day long and see it all. (Even then, I couldn’t.)

The examples throw themselves at you anywhere you glance — whether you are slowly looking for your next find in a box somewhere or merely quickly brushing by for an appointment. It’s the place where Topps will spend two hours taking questions from collectors about how the hobby works and why things like redemptions still happen. (Again.)

It’s a place where you’ll see LeBron James’ 2012 NBA All-Star Game locker room robe beside a rack of Cincinnati Reds game-used jerseys with slugger Joey Votto deep in the heart of the lineup just inches away. It’s a place where you’ll see a Jackie Robinson game-used bat alongside a potentially one-of-a-kind uncut sheet of cards nearly a century old. It’s where you’ll see the newest of the new — 2012 Topps Minis for example — for the first time alongside relics from he days when Minis first arrived … right beside Dale Murphy’s signed 1975 Topps contract.

And that’s just at a handful of booths out of hundreds at the show.

It’s one part museum, one part megastore and one part fun depending on who you are or what you’re looking for. It’s the place where many of us reunite with people we see on occasion, see people we haven’t seen before but tweet to email to all the time.

As my second day of this year’s show comes to an end and the second begins again in just a few hours I know one thing.

There’s no place else I’d rather be.

Chris Olds is the editor of Beckett Baseball magazine. Have a comment, question or idea? Send an email to him at colds@beckett.com. Follow him on Twitter by clicking here.

Join Beckett Baseball‘s Chris Olds and Beckett contributor Ben Aguirre as they rip into and chat about a box of 2012 Topps Mini baseball cards at the 2012 National Sports Collectors Convention Thursday in Baltimore.

What will they find inside? Watch and find out …