For weeks we’d been hearing about the developing “Coronavirus” and how it’s been impacting persons around the world. We’ve been urging folks to wash their hands more frequently and for people to stay home if they are sick.
It was real, we knew that was the case. But the time at which things become real for each of us is different. That time for me came on March 11, 2020, when the sports world came to a screeching halt.
Before I get to much further I will say that this piece is my personal perspective and my view of things through my experiences. You can dismiss it as me being naive; me being petty; me being selfish, etc. But this isn’t meant to be an all encompassing piece. This is the account of the my experience in this time.
Just over a week ago the world looked much different. We had sports to distract us from the trials and tribulation of life; they brought strangers together every day. And on that Wednesday, a day after the NHL had postponed its operation, we still had an evening of NBA basketball to distract us.
I had my kids that day and we spend part of the afternoon running errands and watching my nephew play some Little League baseball. As we headed home from the field, I received a text from my brother in law telling me that the NBA season had been postponed due to the threat of the Coronavirus/COVID-19.
I relayed this information to my 9-year-old son, who has become a big fan of the sport in recent years. And who can blame him, he’s growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area which has seen a great amount success with the Golden State Warriors’ five straight Finals appearances.
He asked a lot of questions during the drive, but took solace in the fact that there was still one game being played — the Mavericks game — and there was still one more on the schedule, which featured Zion Williamson playing in Sacramento.
We sat down that night in front of the television watching Luka Doncic dominate during the final quarter of the game, but that Breaking News banner kept flashing on the bottom of the screen — a reminder that this would be one of the final games for the foreseeable future.
As the network switched to the Kings-Pelicans game, they kept talking about the seriousness of the virus; about Rudy Gobert testing positive, and how asinine if felt that the next game would tip off. And as we know now, that game featuring the NBA’s biggest rookie never would begin.
The players started warming up and then they left the court. We learned that one of the referees scheduled to work the game had worked a game recently that involved Gobert and ultimately the game was postponed.
The networks showed fans perplexed; fans booing; fans leaving. And then there was the “money shot” showing a young girl crying, seemingly upset the game was being canceled. I looked at my son and he was quiet; no emotion on his face.
I asked if he was OK and he just stared at me, looking at me with his brown eyes, silently seeking answers, none of which I had. I opened my arms and told him to come to me and then he let out all of his emotion. It was at that moment that all of this became real to me because … it had become real to him. The side effects of this pandemic were impacting my kids.
That was a Wednesday night. He was a wreck for a while and wound up sleeping in my bed because he was scared. And when morning came, he woke afraid because he had a nightmare related to all of this. He hugged me almost tighter that morning that he ever had before.
He stayed home from school that day, but my 11-year-old daughter went to school also having questions: Her main inquiry was whether her fifth grade science camp — for which recently purchased supplies — would be canceled.
As it turns out, that may in fact be their last school day for the year. School was formally postponed on Friday; the science camp was obviously nixed out of precaution — a bummer for my daughter who has been talking about this trip since the third grade. There’s also a real chance that my daughter may not get to experience her promotional ceremony as she starts middle school next year. Its unfortunate, but we get it.
This Coronavirus has been around for months, mostly being spoke of as impacting those in other countries. But it is now here impacting us on a personal level, and this is a moment that will define their generation.
As I think about what it must feel like to be a child during these times — full of uncertainly and having lots of questions — I am reminded that there are some parallels to my own life.
I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and my world was changed when the Loma Prieta Earthquake struck on Oct. 17, 1989. I had some family drama (parents separated) I had dealt with before that, but the earthquake brought everything to a halt, including the World Series that year which featured our two local teams, the San Francsico Giants and Oakland Athletics.
I remember being home with my younger sister and a friend when the quake hit; I remember us ducking under a table immediately as we had been taught in school, and once we realized we were physically OK, there was concern for others, including our mother who was on the way home from work,
The streets were dark that evening as power had been out due to structural damage; and the only news we had immediately was that buildings had collapsed and persons had been injured and killed as a result of the temblor. School was postponed for about a week if memory serves me right, but that natural disaster was a moment that defined my childhood — there was a clear loss of innocence for myself at that time and while I had many questions my mother could not answer, I remember her being there for all of it, being strong and making sure we were safe and fed.
Its too early to say how the Coronavirus will impact the kids of this generation. At present my family is doing its best to keep the spirits up for the kids — we’re trying a semi-structured home schooling effort coupled with walks around the block and some free time. But it if you ask me, this certainly will be a time they will never forget, and it is our duty as parents and adults to make sure that the kids who turn to us feel as taken care of just as our parents did for us during our times of crisis.
cardboardicons.com 
What message am I sending to my kid collector
Posted in Commentary with tags baseball, baseball cards, childhood, collecting, kids, parenthood, rookie cards, sports, Topps on August 2, 2020 by Cardboard IconsOver the last year and a half I’ve enjoyed perhaps the greatest thing any card collecting father could want: My son enjoys and wants to participate in my hobby.
There was a point where things were a bit touch and go early. I was not sure that my hobby, one I’ve enjoyed since I was 7 years old, would be one on to which he would latch. But here we are in 2020 and at age 9 he is learning things I am teaching him.
But this learning point is exactly what’s concerning me at the moment about the relationship between cards and my son and I. I came into this hobby with no hobby role model. My dad wasn’t a big sports guy during my youth, and while my mother is the one who really introduced me to collecting in general, she did not really provide a structure. All I knew is that she would buy several boxes of Topps Garbage Pail Kids — I have this vivid memory of us plucking boxes off a pyramid dysplay in the center of an aisle at a store like Woolworth — then we’d sort them and put them in a box. I never learned why we did that, or what we would do. In fact, I later took them (without permission) and traded them for baseball cards.
With my son, I feel I have this opportunity to present him with a foundation for a collection. To this point I have introduced him to cards in general, taught him all about the rookies and prospects, how to store the good cards and how to sort his other cards by team and store them in binders. This kid is organized and that is lightyears ahead of where I was when I was 9. But I am wondering what MY actions with my collection are teaching him.
I have a bad habit of buying too many baseball (and now basketball) cards. It’s a problem a lot of us have. Over the last year and a half, however, I have reconciled this in my brain as being OK as long as its an experience I share with my son. We open together, announce the player names and share excitement (and disappointment) together — it’s an experience. And the way it works with us, any base cards we need for the set are for the set, but anything else he pulls from packs are his to keep if he wants. He’s hit some big cards (relatively speaking) and usually accepts them, but every now and again he refuses … it’s not that he doesn’t want them, it’s that he’s being modest.
I digress. Over the last five years I’ve had a lot of fluidity in my collection. Don’t get me wrong, I have my foundation of stuff that I do not intend to move unless circumstances dictate. But I am always selling and sorting stuff. And over the last year specifically I have been liquidating (or preparing to anyway) a lot of items that I have deemed as items I no longer have a desire to keep.
This is important for me as the sheer amount of cards I own often put me in a place of depression. The volume alone can be daunting and overwhelming and can actually cause me to not appreciate any of it. And so I have been pillaging box after box for items to send to COMC to re-purpose, and then sorting other stuff to sell off in team lots (look for an announcement soon).
Having said all of that, I am not sure what message my son is receiving through all of this. I talk about moving items out, but am constantly bringing stuff in. Am I doing this wrong?
I’m pretty open with my son about this hobby. He knows this hobby is expensive, but that we can enjoy it even on a small scale. He knows there are terrible people in and around it, but knows there are some great ones as well. He also knows it takes a lot of work and desire to keep things organized and has seen first hand (read: me and my mess) what happens when you let things overrun your life.
I am a sentimental guy and can find a reason to keep just about anything, especially when cards are involved. Hell, cards are what kept my head straight when my parents split; when I witnessed ugly domestic violence; when my friends got caught up in drugs and other nonsense. The cards are also what’s kept me connected to sports at times, what’s helped me remember not only the aforementioned bad things, but also the great things.
That said, we cannot possibly keep everything. And so it has been a constant struggle lately to purge things and almost hit the reset button in a way. With these actions my son has been involved — he’s helped me sort teams in recent months — and has heard me say things like “It doesn’t matter,” “I don’t care,” “I don’t need it in my collection,” and “I want them out of the house.”
These phrases are a coping mechanism for me to sever ties with items that I really don’t “need” with hopes of being able to remove some of the weight from my shoulders. I explain to him my thought process. I just hope that he understands, and that these help shape his future in the hobby to determine what he enjoys. As I’ve said already, his collecting skills and collection are advanced for his age.
Leave a comment »