Herbert Gin, who owns Cards and Comics Central in downtown San Francisco, sees it nearly every day. A guy comes into his store with a box of baseball cards he's been saving. He needs money and wants to cash in on his investment.
But in 9 out of 10 cases, Gin says, the cards are nearly worthless.
"They say, 'C'mon, offer me something,' " Gin says. "I tell them I can't offer anything. I hate to think how many marriages it has literally destroyed or how many bankruptcies it has caused."
The baseball card market has gone belly-up. Not for the hobbyists or the kids and fans who like to swap cards. Not even for serious collectors who pay thousands for a perfect Mickey Mantle rookie card. (A recent eBay auction started bidding for the 1952 Topps Mantle at $6,900, and that was for a card graded in "good" condition.) The classic cards retain their worth.
But for those who got caught up in the wildcat speculation of the '90s -- the middle-aged men who bought cards by the case and kept them in clear plastic so they could clean up in 10 years -- the game is over.
"There are now a lot of guys right now looking at their collection, hoping to find a treasure chest,'' says Elon Werner, director of communications for Beckett Baseball magazine, which tracks card trends. "And instead they are finding Al Capone's vault."
There are some logical and serious reasons this happened, ranging from video games to poor marketing. But there is also a feeling that declining interest in baseball cards reflects disillusionment with the culture of sport and heroes in the country. Like sports stars, baseball cards were the victims of greed, overexposure and disappointment.
"There is definitely a change in the religious belief that sports build character and athletes are role models," says Derek Van Rheenen, a former professional soccer player turned Cal professor who teaches a course called "Sport and American Culture." "There was a kind of cultural capital that a lot of people gained a great deal from. And I don't know what is going to replace that."
Baseball cards are now repositioning themselves as what they should have been all along: an enjoyable hobby. And although there are some encouraging signs, the climate in baseball -- from the BALCO steroids scandal to players like the Giants' Armando Benitez bickering with the fans -- doesn't encourage a comeback.
"I think you do see some disenchantment,'' says Tracy Hackler, associate publisher for sports for Beckett Baseball. "And I think you see society reacting to them in collectables.''
In 1991, the trading card industry set a record with $1.1 billion in sales. Today, that figure is more like $300 million, and the number of card shops has dropped from 4,500 to 1,200, according to marketing magazine Brandweek.
It isn't as if the true believers aren't around. Bob Michener runs two Bay Area Diamond Sports Card shops. He's had the one in Concord for 18 years and his San Rafael location for 10. Business is still good, he says.
"The average person who comes in is completely sick of hearing about BALCO,'' Michener says. "They say they are just sick of it, and they want it to go away."
But the opposite happened in many other cases. People began to find they couldn't care less about the players and their cards. And it wasn't just because their heroes had feet of clay. It was also a classic case of some corporate sharpies seeing a hot business opportunity and running it right into the ground.
As Joe Field, owner and founder of the landmark Flying Colors comic and card store in Concord, says, we should never underestimate the tendency of "adults to abscond with kids' fun."
When some casual collectors heard that their old baseball cards were worth serious money, many of them jumped into the speculative market. Other companies, realizing an opportunity, began to challenge the Topps brand. At one point, Brandweek says, as many as 80 companies produced trading cards.
And these cards weren't for trading with friends or flipping into a hat on lazy summer afternoons. These were meant to be kept "pristine" and perfect.
"The poor kid would get a pack and start to open it," says Van Rheenen, "and we'd say, 'No, no, no. Don't ever take it out of the plastic. You don't want to get your grimy fingers on it.' "
"And God forbid you'd put them in your bicycle spokes," Hackler says. (For those too young to remember, we old guys used to clothespin cards to our bike wheels to make a very satisfying motorcycle sound.)
Then there was the problem that sometimes you bought a pack of cards and got nothing but a bunch of middle relievers and utility infielders. Scoring a big star was a great moment in a collector's career. The card companies decided buyers needed more instant gratification and began to load their packs with hot cards. All they managed to do was create a glut in the market.
"If you have something valuable in every pack," says Hackler, "it won't be valuable very long."
Eventually, they even took out the bubble gum.
"Collectors were complaining there were gum stains on their cards," Field says.
It was a concept that had lost its way. The top cards weren't rare any more because the new companies had glutted the market. And although some collectors wanted to believe that their pristine Barry Bonds rookie cards were worth a couple of thousand dollars, the Internet had a way of lowering expectations.
"People would get on eBay and say, "I'll sell you my Bonds card for $500 right now,' " Van Rheenen says.
Some in the industry are convinced that the big stars will still prevail. The market might never be back to what it was, but they think fans will forgive and forget when it comes to the legends of the game.
"If Bonds gets healthy and eclipses Hank Aaron's (all-time home run) record, he's going to be back on top," Hackler insists.
Maybe so. But everyone agrees that the key to the rebound is the younger generation. And they may be a tough sell.
"Why does a kid want a baseball card of a player," Field asks, "when, with a joystick, he can be that player in a video game?"
And the good news? There's no drug testing in video games.
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Barry Bonds -- 1986 Topps Traded Tiffany
Current Price $800
Highest Price $2,500
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Mark Mcgwire -- 1985 Topps Tiffany
Current Price $1,000
Highest Price $8,000
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Sammy Sosa -- 1990 Leaf
Current Price $20-$50
Highest Price $1,200
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Rafael Palmeiro -- 1987 Donruss
Current Price $15-$25
Highest Price $200
Source: Current sales price from Beckett Baseball Plus, Aug./Sept. 2006
C.W. Nevius' column appears regularly in The Chronicle. His blog C.W. Nevius.blog and podcast "News Wrap'' can be found at SFGate.com. E-mail him at cwnevius@sfchronicle.com.
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