El Cardquistador

In our last post, we talked about the danger of the “race to the bottom”—that destructive cycle where a single, flawed low comp forces a downward spiral of prices. We stood firm on the idea that a comp is not a command; you are not obligated to repeat someone else’s mistake simply because it’s now a data point. Your expertise and the true value of your card should be your guide.

But what about the other side of that coin? While we shouldn’t let a bad comp dictate our pricing, we also can’t ignore the market’s reality entirely. The opposite mistake is to believe your card is worth a fantasy number, to price it based on pure wishful thinking or emotion. This not only leads to an item that never sells, it also erodes a seller’s credibility and trustworthiness. In the world of live auctions, when a seller starts a card at a price no one will bid on or refuses to sell it because it didn’t hit a magical number, it sends a clear message to potential buyers: this seller doesn’t understand the product they are selling. They are out of touch with the very market they are trying to engage with. This damages their standing, making it harder to attract bids and build a loyal audience in the future.

There’s a specific type of seller we’ve all encountered, and they’re the embodiment of the problem we’re discussing: the “I know what I have” seller. This is the collector who prices their card at two, three, or even four times above its proven market value. When questioned, they’ll offer a handful of justifications, all of which are rooted in emotion rather than data. You’ll hear phrases like, “it’s pristine,” even when the card has a visible flaw. Or, “it’s an investment,” as if their personal belief in its future value should translate to today’s price. The most common defense, however, is simply, “I know what it’s worth.”

This is especially true, and perhaps most frustratingly so, with rookies from the 1980s. These sellers often believe their 1982 Topps Cal Ripken Jr. or 1989 Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie is a gold mine, simply because they remember it being the hot card when they were a kid. They’ve been told for decades that it’s an “investment,” and they’ve clung to that idea despite all evidence to the contrary. They ignore the reality of mass production that defined the decade, a trend that began in the early 80s and exploded in the junk wax era. There are millions of copies of these cards, and even a “pristine” raw example is just one of many. The market has spoken on these cards, reserving significant value almost exclusively for the highest graded, gem-mint examples. Trying to sell a raw one for a premium simply because it’s a “rookie” demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of supply, demand, and the true nature of the hobby.

I saw this play out just this morning. A seller was running an auction for a 1985 Donruss Roger Clemens rookie, a card with a black border, and was trying to start the bidding at $40 despite clear whitening on the edges. To make matters worse, they also listed a raw 1982 Topps Cal Ripken Jr. rookie, a card from a high-production era, for an unbelievable $98. These weren’t bids; these were the seller’s initial demands. The experience wasn’t just frustrating; it felt insulting. It was a clear signal that the seller had no understanding of their product. I will very likely not return to their stream. This kind of behavior, often seen from general resellers who lack a specific focus on sports cards, isn’t just bad business—it instantly erodes a buyer’s trust and any potential respect for the seller’s judgment.

So yes, comps are not commands but I’m also not required to bid based on what appears to be an emotional connection to your cards or the overly lofty goals of an inexperienced seller. As a buyer I am allowed to evaluate your level of expertise and professionalism in my buying decisions, and draw conclusions as to how the entire transaction will go. If you are this lazy about understanding your product, I must assume you will be also about shipping times and safe packaging.