It’s been a dog’s age since I posted up here. I started my Mantel account with the full intention of sharing up my collection. Not long after starting Mantel, my 26 year old son passed from this world to the next. Understandably, I took a giant step back from a lot of things, card collecting included. At the suggestion of my grief counsellor, I was advised to find one thing that brought me happiness before his passing. I decided to dust off the ol storage boxes and get back into the hobby. No longer am I chasing the big YGs l of the week, but now I focus exclusively on collecting Indigenous players. I’ve leaned into it pretty hard, creating FB, IG, and TikTok accounts for Diceman…follow me up if you like. My goal is to have the largest collection of Indigenous hockey players from all levels of hockey, grow my collector network, and one day, launch a podcast about my story. Please join me in this journey, and if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading…and see you next pack.

For my first post back, please check out my Rookie Materials patch /25 of Calen Addison (Métis), thanks again.

Diceman

This is just a general shout out to all. If your feeling a bit overwhelmed, flat just generally meh!. Listen to the body. Remember you're not alone. Lean on the things that spark the energy on things for you. Family, friends etc Reach out.

Lean into the hobby too. Get out to a show, local shop, even for a walk about if your not buying or selling. You never know the connections you might make. Keep it simple.

Look after yourselves

Cheers Alan | UK

Creating new collectible items from archival photography to celebrate @MM100 and the newly created Marilyn Monroe Mental Health for the Arts Program. #legacy #storytelling #marilynmonroe


Limited Edition of 3 Marilyn Monroe triptych in pastel wash, official image of The Marilyn Monroe Mental Health for the Arts Program. Original photography by Milton H. Greene, 1956. @goldin @KenGoldin
https://www.ebay.com/str/goldinauctions1/Fine-Art/_i.html?store_cat=45603294016

Published February 24, 2026 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

This week began with heartbreaking news, and it’s understandable if it’s been sitting with you since. A 25-year-old NFL player, Rondale Moore, died by suicide. Young. Talented. Successful by every external measure. And still hurting enough that the pain became unbearable.

Stories like this shake people because they challenge a belief many of us quietly carry. That money fixes things. That success protects you. That fame insulates you from depression, anxiety, loss, or despair. Those things may soften the edges, but it doesn’t make anyone immune.

Mental health is relative. Pain is relative. What overwhelms one person might not overwhelm another, but that doesn’t make either experience less real. Our nervous systems don’t care about contracts, followers, engagements, or highlights. The mind doesn’t calculate net worth before it decides it’s exhausted. Being “set for life” financially doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll feel safe, grounded, or okay inside your own head.

Depression doesn’t announce itself loudly. Anxiety doesn’t always look like panic. Sometimes it looks like isolation. Sometimes it looks like pushing through. Sometimes it looks like smiling and performing while barely holding things together internally. And loss doesn’t just come from death. It can come from pressure, identity, expectations, and the fear of letting people down.

Sometimes the heaviest battles are the ones no one else can see – even in moments of stillness, people can be carrying more than the world realizes.

As a society, we still often address mental health as something you address after success, after stability, after you “get there”. But a tragedy like this reminds us that there is no finish line where suffering suddenly stops. We have to stop treating mental health as a personal weakness and start treating it as a shared responsibility.

That means checking in even when someone seems fine. It means making space for uncomfortable conversations that may not have easy answers. It means normalizing help before someone reaches a breaking point. And it means remembering that behind every achievement is a human being doing their best to carry what they’re holding.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about care. It’s about choosing compassion over assumptions. And it’s about committing to a culture where asking for help isn’t seen as failure, but as survival.

#CollectorsMD
You can have everything the world celebrates and still need support to keep going.

This Daily Reflection references publicly reported events and individuals. The thoughts shared here reflect a personal perspective and interpretation, not a factual account or statement of intent, and should not be read as speculation beyond what has been publicly reported.

If you or someone you know is struggling or thinking about self harm, help is available. In the U.S., you can call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you are outside the U.S., please contact your local emergency number or a trusted mental health resource in your country. You are not alone, and support is available.

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Junior Seau was one of those players everyone knew, even if you weren’t a hardcore football fan. He played 20 seasons in the NFL and was basically the heart and soul of the San Diego Chargers for years, later playing with the Dolphins and then the Patriots. He played linebacker like his hair was on fire, always flying around the field, hitting hard, leading by example, and genuinely loving the game. He made the Pro Bowl 12 times, was All-Pro multiple times, and even went to a Super Bowl with the Patriots. What people remember most, though, is his energy and passion. He looked like a guy who was having the time of his life out there.

Then in 2012, everything changed. Junior Seau died by suicide at just 43 years old, and it completely stunned people. What made it even more heartbreaking was that he shot himself in the chest instead of the head, which many believe he did on purpose so doctors could study his brain. When they did, they found he had CTE, a brain disease caused by repeated hits to the head. CTE can mess with your mood, your thinking, your emotions, and your impulse control, and the scary part is a lot of people don’t even know they have it while they’re alive.

His death really exposed how badly we handle mental health in this country, especially for men and athletes. There’s still this idea that you’re supposed to suck it up, be tough, and push through it, no matter what’s going on in your head. We treat broken bones and torn ligaments like emergencies, but depression, brain damage, and emotional pain get brushed off or ignored until it’s too late. For athletes, it can be even worse after retirement, when the game is gone, the routine is gone, and the injuries and mental scars are still there.

Junior Seau had fame, money, respect, and a smile everyone remembered, and it still wasn’t enough to protect him. That’s why his story sticks with people. It’s a reminder that mental health is just as real and just as serious as physical health, and in the U.S., we still don’t treat it that way until something tragic forces us to pay attention.

I want you all to embrace those close to you and tell them they are important and that you love them because just like that they can be gone.