penfield | Simulated Wood Grain (Reply)

A few nights ago, I was lying awake in my childhood home, with the TV on and my parents already fast asleep. Everything was either a rerun or a Christmas Special starring Patricia Heaton, so I had taken to flipping around. I landed on some sort of home shopping channel -- you're probably familiar with the scene -- with some highly caffeinated and vaguely sleazy retail pimp plying his cheap garbage for his sixth consecutive hour.

But I stopped on this channel, because I noticed that it was a baseball card show. I don't know if it was because I was back in my old room, haunted by the musty ghosts of adolesence or because it was after midnight and I was bored stiff, but I suddenly became very interested in these baseball cards.

I remained on the periphery of its spell until the next item, a factory-sealed complete 1987 Topps baseball card set, only the coolest baseball set ever made. (I could justify this claim myself, but this guy does it for me, and better.) I was instantly transfixed.

This screaming salesman was offering the 1987 set, along with mint-condition Topps sets from 1986, 1988, 1989 and 1990, for $149.99, which sounded like a real bargain, based on my extremely limited knowledge of the baseball card market (which, in turn, was based on my recollections of the price guides I used to read 15 years ago). I kept thinking about the valuable rookie cards therein and the obvious investment value. I kept thinking about having that set as a prized trophy to keep in my house and pass on to my heirs, despite the fact that the cards came in a plain brown box and would instantly depreciate if I were ever to open it. It was like they were selling a piece of my childhood. I had to have it.

Like a zombie, I dialed the toll-free number and placed my order, suppressing any anxiety about giving over my credit card number. Within ten minutes, the set was mine. The euphoria lasted about two minutes.

Then I panicked. Did I just get ripped off? Obviously. For how much? I snuck into the computer room to check the going rate for these packs, and I suddenly felt very stupid. And then I felt guilty for all those times I teased my mom, all those times she was lulled into purchases like "limited edition" Star Wars movie posters or "antique Pez dispensers." I had no idea what merciless villains she was up against.

I called the 800 number again and, in a deep voice, curtly asked them to cancel my order. (This was not a problem. But if they had given me any static, I was prepared to say that my foolish son had used my credit card without permission. Thus was the height of my humiliation.) And like that, I was back in the present.

So from now on, I'm just going to zoom right past those shopping channels. But if anyone sees a good deal on that 1987 Topps set, please let me know.