For most of us, Goodwill is the kind of place where we might casually stop by on the hunt for a snug sweater, a cheeky mug, or maybe a well-loved paperback novel. However, for Christopher Kidney from the quiet streets of Flemingsburg, Kentucky, a recent stop at this second-hand shop morphed into something akin to a collector’s fever dream. Kidney ventured into Goodwill and exited with a treasure trove of baseball memorabilia, each piece potentially rarer than a unicorn at a unicorn collector’s convention.
Spending a mere twenty dollars, that average sum you might think twice about when ordering an extra-large popcorn at the movies, Kidney found himself in possession of authentic autographed items that would make any collector’s heart do backflips. Among these were cards signed by baseball luminaries such as CC Sabathia, Don Mattingly, and Chuck Knoblauch. Throwing a bit of football flair into the mix was a Super Bowl XLII card autographed by Plaxico Burress. Yet, the pièce de résistance of this haul was undoubtedly a baseball graced with the autograph of the legendary Hall of Famer, Yogi Berra himself.
“When I saw the names on the cards, I could tell they were real based on the brand,” Kidney told Newsweek, a hint of ecstatic disbelief coloring his voice. Spoiler alert: He wasn’t just engaging in wishful thinking—he was absolutely correct. With the help of his collecting circle, each member seemingly gifted with a Marvel superhero-esque talent for spotting authentic collectibles, Kidney authenticated the items. Then proudly, almost giddily, he sold this quaint slice of sporting legend privately for over $500.
Among Kidney’s exhilarating finds was the ball graced by Yogi Berra’s signature. Now, for those who haven’t had their head in the sporting scene, Berra is not just any baseball player. Known for his “Yogi-isms,” whimsical yet often profound sayings, Berra’s career as an unparalleled catcher and a 1972 Hall of Fame inductee was the stuff of baseball legend. That he effortlessly collected 10 World Series titles with the Yankees, a record still firm atop the history books, only adds polish to his pedestal. To stumble upon his signed ball randomly lining a second-hand store’s shelf? Well, that’s not luck; that might be cricket angels playing cupid.
As if to match the dopamine rush of finding gold, Kidney decided to share his triumph with kindred spirits online. An active member of Reddit’s memorabilia landscape, he posted a photo of his discoveries, thrillingly captioned: “Incredible, still shaking.” The community’s response was nothing short of electric; it lit up like a scoreboard on the Fourth of July, with over 1,500 upvotes and a torrent of excited commentary from both battle-hardened collectors and baseball enthusiasts.
One witty commenter lamented, “Thank goodness your Goodwill doesn’t have an in-store Googler pricing these near eBay comps.” Another, who clearly understands the collector’s envy on a deep, personal level, added, “My brother collects and sells sports memorabilia and he says to tell you he is both happy for you and very jealous!”
Incredibly, this isn’t Kidney’s maiden thrift-store triumph. Earlier in the month, he stumbled upon a 1949 book, signed by Honus Wagner, himself a titan of baseball lore, for an unbelievable $1.59. No one was more astonished than Kidney, who wrote, “For $1.59, I found one of the greatest baseball players’ signatures ever! I’m in shock,” reflecting sentimentally on his grandfather’s connections to historic teams like the Reds and Cardinals, marveling at the serendipity of the find.
But for Kidney, the emotional facet of these wins looms as large as the financial boon. Reflecting with gratitude, he emphasized the importance of family and friends in his life. “It’s very important to me that I give credit to my family—my beloved wife Ashley—and my best friends Brad and Christopher Davisson,” he shared, hinting that as much as he loves the chase, it’s the shared moments and memories that make the pursuit truly worthwhile.
Ultimately, Kidney’s story serves as an enchanting reminder that sometimes, a slice of sports history might just be napping in the corner of a thrift store, invisibly cloaked next to a pile of dog-eared novels—awaiting a discerning eye and a willing heart to carry it back to the realm of collectors.
