ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, August 25, 1994                   TAG: 9410010032
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: TODD MARCUM
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


COME ON DOWN!

Baseball card shows are like baseball fans. They come in all shapes and sizes. But once a year, the biggest one of them all comes along. It started as a small gathering in Los Angeles in 1980. Now, it's known all over the world as `The National.'

\ AS the focus of the baseball season switches from strikes thrown by Greg Maddux to the strike pitched by players and owners, fans long for a place where the players never throw temper tantrums, the owners don't whine about losing money, and negotiators are interested in making good deals.

Such a place actually does exist. Houston's George R. Brown Convention Center welcomed the 15th National Sports Collectors Convention Aug. 4 through 7, an event known to the hard-core hardball fans as simply, "The National." A showcase for what has grown to a $1.5 billion to $2 billion dollar industry, the gathering is a mammoth mix of collectibles, cards, vintage equipment,

promotional items from manufacturers, sports superstars, autographs and fans of all ages and levels of expertise.

Estimates were that sports collectors, guests and manufactures would pump about $5 million into Houston's economy. Texas Gov. Ann Richards proclaimed it the "Super Bowl of sports memorabilia events."

With an exhibit floor the size of five football fields, The National brings together buyers and sellers from across the United States. Although the host city changes (next year, St. Louis will serve up a mix of Busch and baseball), a typical National will draw about 20 Virginia dealers and as many as 100 collectors from Western Virginia. Total attendance for the Houston show was expected to approach 50,000, and although early audits indicate the figure may have been optimistic, attendance was strong, with collectors standing in lines outside that occasionally stretched a city block.

"The National is an incredible place to buy and sell," says North Garden dealer Marco Rol, who also promotes conventions in the Roanoke Civic Center. "It's not like any other show because you get such a high concentration of sophisticated collectors. I've always found esoteric cards sell well. People come here looking for something specific."

Rol speaks as he juggles taking money, looking at cards brought to him by potential sellers and answering questions asked by customers. A veteran of many card campaigns, he specializes in older cards, many issued prior to World War 11.

"Can I look through your T-206's?," asked a burly man who looked to be in his

late 20s.

Rol fished the cards, issued with cigarettes from 1909-11, from the front of his showcase. The customer flipped though the stack until he found what he had been looking for, a card of a player for the old Baltimore Orioles, marked at $40.

"That's a pretty good one, but it's a little more than I wanted to pay," said the customer, in a reprise of the unofficial theme song of collectors of all things.

Buyer and seller eventually settled on a price of $32, a significant discount. Before walking away, the collector thanked Rol and told him the card portrayed his great-grandfather.

With the strike by major-league ballplayers looming, dealers were mixed on what they expected from fans. Some said the labor action could really throw their business a curve. After all, they're the ones, along with peanut vendors, spectators and people who sell tickets, who would first feel the financial sting. Others who specialize in older cards said they didn't feel it would mean much one way or the other.

The sports collectibles dealers should be accustomed to change. It is a hobby/business that has gone from a schoolyard pursuit of skinned-kneed boys, to a growth industry, to an investment darling and back down to Earth. After the 1980s saw sports cards jump in value as much as 50 percent per year, the 1990s have been much more competitive.

"It was too easy in the '80s," said Kent Garnett, a Richmond-based sports card shop owner at the National to hock some of his extensive hockey card selection. "People got lazy - dealers and collectors both. Now you have to work a harder to figure out what's going to be a winner."

Dealers and manufacturers alike spent a lot of time talking to one another to try to figure out the direction the trading card market is heading. Unlike major department store retailers who also sell cards, individual dealers have no return privilege of product. When they buy one that doesn't sell, they have to eat it. While this would seem to insulate the manufacturer, the dealers are far less likely to take another swing at a product that has failed them before, and that can cause problems for the card makers.

It's sort of like Yogi Berra said: You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.

Manufacturers are growing more sophisticated. Pinnacle, a maker of higher-quality cards of current players, courted potential sellers of their products with a gala dinner featuring an appearance by former Pittsburgh Steeler great Franco Harris. The company also made a strong impression on collectors through their huge display booth with a Mad Scientist-movie motif. Think of it as Frankenstein meets Frank Thomas.

Some of the greatest sports stars were trading their autographs for a hefty appearance fee. The more than 40 signers included National League RBI leader Jeff Bagwell, Pete Rose, NBA Most Valuable Player Hakeem Olajuwon and football's Sam Huff.

Despite the increased hype and sophistication, The National is still primarily a place where collectors can fill their sets, see new things and ask each other how many no-hitters have been tossed by pitchers who lost the game (seven, or so we're told).

"I love the hunt," said a textile executive who had just purchased the last few cards he needed to complete the 1964 Topps collection he had started as a kid, forgotten about for a couple of decades, then rediscovered. After placing his new-found prizes in a safe place, he did exactly what one would expect him to do:

He started work on a 1956 set.



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