In the Kenning household, the tradition of baseball card collecting has morphed quite dramatically from grandfather to grandson. For Bob Kenning, baseball cards were initially nothing more than colorful rectangles used to clip to bicycle spokes. The cards emitted a clattering noise, enhancing the otherwise calm ride into a thunderous, pretend motorcycle excursion. “A lot of my cards wound up in my bike spokes to make my bike sound better,” Bob recalls with a nostalgic smile.
Yet, for his 12-year-old grandson Keegan, collecting cards is a whole different ball game—it’s a fervent pursuit of the elusive and noteworthy. “I would say I probably have close to 10,000 cards,” Keegan notes with an enthusiastic twinkle in his eye and perhaps a hint of pride reserved only for someone who has successfully pursued such a colossal gathering.
It was on an otherwise routine Presidents’ Day afternoon, marked by the post-holiday pause where time seems to slow down, that Keegan invited his grandfather for another adventure at Hobby Den, the echoing marbled ground zero of card fans in town. “It was Presidents’ Day. We had nothing better to do, so Keegan called me up and said, ‘Hey Pawpaw, why don’t we go to Hobby Den?'” Bob recounts, his voice filled with the unmistakable warmth of being summoned by a grandchild.
Inside the Hobby Den, the air was thick with anticipation and the smell of fresh card packs waiting to reveal their mysteries. For Keegan, tearing open packs is akin to ticket scratching at the lottery, each one holding an exhilarating question mark of what prizes lie within. “My favorite part is probably the thrill of pulling cards, seeing what’s inside, and hoping for something great,” he shares, illustrating the intoxicating mix of hope and unpredictability.
And on this day, Fate decided to tip her hat in favor of the young collector. Within the mysteries of one seemingly ordinary pack lay an extraordinary treasure—a one-of-a-kind Babe Ruth card, bearing the lauded scribble of the Sultan of Swat himself. A card so rare, it felt like uncovering a piece of baseball’s holy grail.
Even the owner of Hobby Den, David Nguyen, a man well accustomed to the ebb and flow of collector’s luck, raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. He understood, better than most, the immense value both monetary and historical such a find represented. As David stood in amazement over the pristine rectangle of nostalgia and prestige, Bob and Keegan basked in their newfound runner’s high of fortune.
Yet, amid the whirlwind of celebratory emotions, Bob paused to reflect on what truly mattered. The sparkle in his grandson’s eyes, the shared glances of disbelief, and the harmony of generational bridge-building were worth more than any dollar sign. The rare find served as a precious backdrop to an even rarer moment—unfiltered joy shared between the bookends of family. “When we can share this hobby together and have a grandfather-grandson bonding time, I mean, that’s priceless right there,” Bob stated, the richness of the memory already ingrained in his heart.
As for Keegan, the card isn’t destined for an auction block or a dusty display case under lock and key; it will find a home among his arsenal of 10,000 collectibles, each card telling a story, each story holding a memory. A comforting tug serves as a reminder that while collecting can be about the chase or the rarity, sometimes, it is the adventure itself that creates its own rare and priceless card of cherished familial bonds and lasting memories. Even if the card comes with a Babe Ruth signature, to Keegan, it is merely the beautiful icing on the cake of an unforgettable shared experience with Pawpaw.
