Self-sabotage

In my last post, I touched on the futility of being a team collector, that no matter how hard you try, you're not going to be able to get every card that features your team.

There are many reasons for this, the most daunting of which may be the 80 jillion sets that are issued every year. ("Variety" and "choice" can be a double-edged sword). But one of the other reasons is one that I hadn't considered all that seriously until last week.

And that reason getting in the way of completing my team sets? It's me.

I try very much to be a diligent collector. I catalog cards, I create want lists. I organize my cards every few months. I think I do a pretty good job. I've read several times about how folks have forgotten about packs they bought and discovered them months later. I could never figure out how someone could not know they had unopened cards in their possession.

But then I had an epiphany last week. And I realized that my problem isn't that I forget that I have cards. My problem is that I think that I have cards that I don't have. And, let me tell you, there is nothing more frustrating than that.

Last week I was happily wondering through the blogs and I clicked on Zach's Autographed Cards blog. He was featuring one of the many 1981 Donruss cards that he has gotten autographed. No problem there, I collected all of the 1981 Donruss Dodgers months ago.

However, the card he was featuring was a card I knew instantly that I had never seen before. And it was a Dodger. For some reason, I had checked off Mickey Hatcher as a card I have already. No. 526 had been checked off in my old Beckett price guide. It had been checked off in my old Sport Americana team checklist book. It was checked off on my computerized spreadsheet. When I received the Jay Johnstone Donruss card from Tribe Cards, I proudly announced that I was done with '81 Donruss and wiped the last number off the want list on my blog.

So, you can imagine the horror that shook me when I saw that card. I composed myself and wrote a very subdued comment saying I suddenly realized I needed the card. Zach responded, saying, "What? You fool, I thought the Jay Johnstone card was the last one you needed."

OK, he didn't really say, "you fool," but he might have thought it. The great thing -- besides remembering what I said about the Jay Johnstone card (I don't know how you folks remember this stuff) -- is that he emailed me shortly afterward, saying he did have another Hatcher card. And he sent it to me!

Where would my scatter-brained self be without you nice citizens?

The thing is, I am more scatter-brained than I thought I was. It sort of runs in my family. I don't have as bad a case of it as my grandmother, but I can see it being a mild issue when I'm old and backing up traffic.

The "I thought I had that card" problem occurred again, not more than two days after I received the Hatcher card. Every so often, I organize my huge backlog of Dodgers, which also involves organizing my burgeoning collection of Dodger dupes.

During this process, it occurred to me that my 2005 Topps Dodgers seemed pretty paltry. This was another set that I thought I had completed. Well, not only have I not completed it, but I'm 11 cards short. And the thing that made me feel the most stupid is I pulled two cards out of the doubles box that actually weren't doubles.

Both Izturis and Phillips have been rescued and placed in a pile intended for the Dodger binder. I can't help but think how I might have traded these guys away, all the while thinking that I had them already.

That's a constant fear while going through my doubles. How many of these cards do I actually need? It drives me a bit zooey. I've been known to beat myself up over dumb mistakes -- don't worry, I'm not hitting myself in the head or anything -- so, this is not one of my favorite things to admit. But I have a feeling I'm not the only one. At least, I'll use that as an excuse to console myself.

Meanwhile, there is a brand new 2005 Topps Dodgers section up on my want list. Go ahead and send stupid a few cards. He'll be grateful.

Oh, here are some other cool cards that Zach sent:

Three more Nomos that I needed.

And a giant Eddie Murray.

Thanks, Zach. I think I need a collecting coach. Or a collecting tutor.