This month, we’re proud to feature a collector who embodies so much of what Collectors MD stands for—Jonathan (@theclemsonkidcards). Jonathan's feed is a refreshing reminder that collecting doesn’t have to revolve around hype, high-end hits, or dollar signs. His posts aren’t just about what’s valuable—they’re about what’s meaningful.

In a recent post, Jonathan shared an unlicensed Paul Skenes second-year card from Donruss Baseball, writing:

“These aren’t worth even $10, but I really, really like the short print foil version of the ‘Unleashed’… If the hobby wants to continue to exist, these financially accessible products need to be available for kids, and those who don’t have the money to spend $500+ a box.”

That alone says everything. His passion is genuine, and his voice is thoughtful—raising awareness around the importance of accessible collecting for younger hobbyists and those without unlimited budgets.

That perspective runs through everything Jonathan shares. Whether it’s advocating for affordable entry points, appreciating design and storytelling over brand licensing, or adding a personal twist to his PC, his voice brings balance to a space often overrun by profit-driven hype.

Take Jonathan's approach to aesthetics—like the Bobby Witt Jr. blue refractor /75 from Topps Chrome Black Baseball—noting that he’s considering SGC’s black tuxedo slab for display purposes even if it means giving up a little PSA value. Why? Because it simply looks better. That’s collecting with intention.

Even his display setup reflects this approach. Tired of hiding his collection in a drawer, he installed inexpensive, simple floating shelves to display his favorite cards. It’s a small gesture—but one that reclaims joy, visibility, and presence in the hobby.

In another post, Jonathan shared a creative patch swap on a Steven Kwan on-card auto—demonstrating how to elevate a card for the PC, without obsessing over resale value. It’s a personal touch for a PC card—but it’s also an example of how collectors can re-engage with their cards in creative, non-commercial ways. That kind of creativity and thoughtfulness is rare.

Jonathan isn’t chasing clout or status. He’s curating a collection with clarity, personality, and perspective. His feed reminds us that collecting doesn’t need to be expensive to be meaningful. It can be joyful, approachable, and deeply personal without breaking the bank or burning yourself out mentally and emotionally.

Below are a few of his recent posts. Check out his page and give him a follow!

Thank you for what you’re adding to this space, Jonathan. This is the heart of collecting with intention.

#CollectorsMD
Collect With Intention. Not Compulsion.
https://collectorsmd.com/collector-spotlight/

With hobby boxes topping $3K and grading fees ranging from $28 to $80 with 5-month wait times, is collecting still fun for anyone who doesn’t own a PayPal business account?

Remember when card collecting was about joy, trading, and hoarding base rookies like they meant something?

Now it’s a luxury flex.

Want to rip a hobby box with your kid? That’ll be $500, a background check, and a co-signer.

Grading?

Starts at $28. Want subgrades? $80.

Want it back this year? LOL.

Estimated return: somewhere between Christmas and the next Topps lawsuit.

“My 8-year-old saved up allowance for a hobby pack. We’re now entering year 2 of waiting for the redemption to come back.”

“Letting kids collect today feels like onboarding them to crypto.”

“Back in my day, ‘collecting’ didn’t involve a spreadsheet and a reseller license.”

The hobby has gone full Wall Street.

We’re not collecting cards — we’re applying for mortgages on them.

And yes, the prices are wild:

Hobby boxes: $400–$3,200

Grading a single card: $28–$80

Slabs worth keeping: 🤷‍♂

Even base cards — once the gateway drug to collecting — are considered cardboard trash unless serial-numbered, shiny, or auto’d by someone with a blue check.

So how’s a kid supposed to collect without a parent who runs a slab hustle on eBay?

🧠 The Big Picture

If kids can’t afford to join the hobby, the hobby eventually dies.

No new collectors = no future nostalgia = no long-term value.

We’re not building a community — we’re building a flipping economy with cardboard NFTs.

🛠 What Can We Do?

• Bring back affordable hobby products with actual value

• Design kid-focused sets that don’t feel like rejects from Panini Sticker Books

• Give base cards meaning again — tradeability, gamification, story

• And maybe, just maybe… grade what you love, not just what comps

🧃 Final Thought:

If your kid needs to Venmo you just to open a pack…

we’ve officially priced fun out of the

#CardCollecting #TheHobby #DadCollector #KidsInTheHobby #RetailRage #GradedCards #SlabTalk #SportsCards #BaseCardsMatter #CollectingNotFlipping #HobbyBurnout #RipResponsibly

Step back into the golden age of collecting with the 1987 Topps Baseball set—where wood-grain borders, Bo Jackson’s rookie, and unforgettable design defined a generation. It’s more than cardboard. It’s a time machine.

https://ripped.topps.com/office-hours-1987-topps-set/

Started my day at the Flip Card Show in Trussville AL, sold about 1k in cards, picked up two more for grading, got home to a package from Mojo and now lunch at Outback with the wifey who’s been hanging with me all day.

Published May 31, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

In my 20s—post-college, newly employed, still figuring myself out—I fell deep into the sub culture of sneaker collecting.

What started as a passion became a full-on obsession. At it’s height, I owned over 500 pairs. Not a typo. Five. Hundred.

I was stashing kicks in closets, under the bed, behind furniture, in storage bins, even in my parents’ basement. Any crevice I could find, I filled. I had to rent a storage unit just to store the boxes. The empty boxes! At the time, it felt like I was building something—a collection, a brand, a sense of identity. I even launched a semi-successful instagram account to showcase my collection under the alias @lefron_james. But looking back, I was just trying to fill something else.

Then the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was stuck at home, reevaluating things. That’s when I was reintroduced to the sports card hobby by a close buddy I grew up with—something I loved as a kid but hadn’t touched in years. It felt new again, fresh, exciting and far more compact than 500 pairs of sneakers.

So I sold off most of the shoes. Downsized. Streamlined. Reinvested in cards.
I told myself it was strategic—a smarter way to collect.
But really? I just needed cash to chase the dopamine hit I discovered from ripping wax.

I convinced myself this version of the hobby was healthier. After all, it was way more efficient. It took up WAY less space. It was easier to manage. But eventually, I found myself in the same cycle—buying, chasing, rationalizing, spending.

Different medium. Same behavior.

It taught me something that took years to understand:
The problem isn’t always what you collect.
Sometimes it’s how you collect.
And more importantly—why.

Some people can manage this stuff in moderation. A few pairs. A box here or there. A small chase, followed by rest. And if you’re one of those people, that’s amazing. Truly. Frankly, I’m envious of your ability to display self control.

But others—myself included—struggle with moderation when the high feels so rewarding.
When collecting turns into coping. When excitement starts to look like escapism.

That’s why awareness matters. Why boundaries matter. Why for some people, full abstinence might be the only real path forward.

We don’t talk about that enough in collecting culture. We glorify the “hustle,” the “heat,” the “grails.” But we don’t ask enough:
“At what cost?”
“Am I collecting with intention—or compulsion?”

Sneakers. Cards. Watches. NFTs. Comics. Doesn’t matter what it is. If it’s not being done with balance, it eventually tips the scale against you.

So today, I don’t measure the health of my hobby by what I own or how “efficient” it is.
I measure it by how honest I’m being with myself.
How in control I feel.
How at peace I am.

And if you’ve been where I’ve been, just know—you’re not alone.
This movement exists so we can talk about the stuff that doesn’t make it to the highlight reel.

Collect with intention. Not compulsion.

#CollectorsMD
The most dangerous addiction is the one we convince ourselves is harmless.

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