Mike Schmidt Collection

This is the cardboard equivalent of counting every possible seating arrangement at a family reunion as a separate family member. If Mike Schmidt is paired with Andre Dawson, Rickey Henderson, Steve Bedrosian, Wally Joyner, Dave Winfield, Ozzie Smith, Joe Carter, a checklist, possibly a ham sandwich, those are apparently all distinct treasures. Wonderful. Just magnificent. By this logic, every time Mike Schmidt appears within three inches of another printed object, we are legally obligated to create a new registry slot. Did the sticker touch Rickey Henderson? Parallel. Did it share oxygen with Ozzie Smith? Variation. Was there a checklist nearby minding its own business? Congratulations, that’s now part of the Schmidt master set because the hobby has apparently eaten a wheelbarrow full of paste and declared itself curator of the universe. These were stickers. For children. Children were supposed to peel them, stick them in an album, forget about them, and then spill Hi-C on the remains. Instead, grown men are now hunched over card backs like forensic pathologists, whispering, “Ah yes, the Dawson orientation.” I am begging the hobby to locate the emergency brake. At some point, this stopped being collecting and became a cardboard hostage negotiation. If every accidental neighbor is a new collectible, then my sock drawer is a census, my refrigerator is a museum, and the crumbs in my toaster are a regional fucking test issue!

My therapist has instructed me to stop talking about 1988 Stickercards.