When I got back into Pokémon card collecting, I brought my investing attitude right with it. Once I had felt my way into the game, I didn’t pull any punches. A thousand euros here, a thousand euros there, why not buy some boxes to store away of this set, too?
I quickly built various positions, and as luck would have it, I did so right before the biggest Pokémon boom in history. Up to today, I’ve almost doubled my money, and I’m now sitting on more than a few thousand euros worth of cardboard. Okay. So far, so good.
But now that Pokémon has sort of become part of my overall portfolio and wealth building strategy, I’ve decided to slow down. I could never buy everything I wanted, not for the sealed investments, nor for the cards I’d like to collect, and I feel good about how much stuff I’ve crammed into my parents’ basement (thanks mom and dad!).
So recently, I’m shifting focus. I’m trying to wrap up a few mini sets and buy some cards I want for my personal collection before they get super expensive. Then, I want to take a break altogether. Ergo, I’m not actively putting in more money. I’m only doing deals to acquire what I need at the best price possible. Throw in a few cards I’d like to sell, and suddenly, instead of checking out four-figure carts at online ships, I’m sending people photos on Ebay’s classified section in hopes of selling a 50-euro card or getting 10% off one that costs 120. Can you spot the difference?
On the one hand, this is a good thing. It’s teaching me firsthand what, in theory, I’ve already known: Investing in physical assets is not the same as buying liquid stocks on an app. Every offer needs a market—and if you can’t agree on a price with somebody, you can’t sell. If push comes to shove, you might want to take a 10% haircut on the supposed market rate just to actually turn your cardboard into cash.
The bigger lesson, however, is that this whole phase post-shift is a distraction. When I was starting, deliberately investing good chunks of money, my mind was set on the big picture. “Let me hold on to these for the next 10, 20, 30 years or so and see where it leads.” As a result, I made big moves with confidence, and I wasted no time splitting hairs. Now I’m stuck in the weeds, dealing with small items, small transactions, and I can feel my mind has shrunk accordingly.
It’s funny. In the right context, you can spend as much time worrying about saving ten bucks as you can about spending 1,000, even if the former will barely make a dent in your wallet. But if that’s the case, that’s not the right frame of mind to be in. Not just at certain times. Ever. Whatever stage you’re at, add another zero. On a multi-month or multi-year timescale, moonshots are the only shots worth taking.
So, reminder to self: Small mind, small decisions. Don’t get stuck in a game of tic-tac-toe when you should be playing Monopoly.
