Jerome had a passion for baseball cards that went back to when he was just a young boy. Every Saturday afternoon he would ride his bike to the local convenience store and save up his allowance to buy a pack or two of cards, hoping to find legends of the game like Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth or Mickey Mantle staring back at him from the tiny rectangles of cardboard.

Now an adult with a decent job, Jerome still found joy in cracking open packs of cards on the weekends. While he no longer had the same childlike excitement, the nostalgia of reliving his youthful hobby brought him joy. With his 30th birthday coming up, Jerome decided to treat himself to a larger haul than usual.

After work on Friday, Jerome stopped by the local card shop that had been in business for decades. Walking through the door was like stepping back in time, as the store had changed little since his childhood visits. The familiar scent of stale bubblegum, cardboard and dust greeted him. Shelves were lined with rows upon rows of binders housing tens of thousands individual cards in protective plastic sleeves. Display cases held rare, valuable vintage cards that any collector would drool over.

Jerome browsed the aisles for a while, perusing some of the newer, highly sought after rookie cards that fetched astronomical prices online. But those weren’t really his style. He preferred the no-frills charm of the classic packs he grew up with from brands like Topps, Fleer and Donruss. Making his way to the back counter, he greeted the grizzled shopkeeper who had been there for as long as Jerome could remember.

“Hey Walter, the usual for me today. Got an itch to rip open a few packs for my birthday,” Jerome said with a smile. Walter nodded knowingly and turned to retrieve eight wax paper-wrapped packs from behind the counter. Together they totaled up Jerome’s purchase to $40, a lot more than he remembered packs costing as a kid but inflation had hit everything over the decades.

As Jerome made the short drive home, he eagerly drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to tear into his packs, spread the cards out on his kitchen table and methodically work through each one. Once home, that’s exactly what he did, savoring the tactile sensation of crisp cardboard and that distinctive stale bubblegum smell.

The first pack held mainly commons but one shiny rookie card caught his eye – a pitcher for the Angels he hadn’t heard of before but looked promising. Pack two had a similar composition but he was thrilled to pull a star from years past, Kirby Puckett grinning out from the card stock. Packs three and four held more filler but a Jim Thome base card made the time ripping through worthwhile.

By pack five, Jerome’s kitchen table was strewn with sorted piles of commons, stars, rookies and inserts. As he sliced open the thin foil wrapping, he felt a tingle of anticipation. Flipping through, a familiar face leered up – none other than Babe Ruth, poised at the plate in classic Boston Red Sox garb. Jerome’s heart skipped a beat at the visual confirmation of one of the game’s true icons staring back nearly a century later. While not in pristine condition, it had sentimental value beyond any monetary worth.

The next two packs, in classic card collecting fashion, yielded nothing more than commons. Jerome was still thrilled by his Babe Ruth pull but hoped his remaining pack held one more surprise. His fingers shook slightly as he sliced open the foil and dug inside. The first few cards were typical with players both familiar and unknown to him. As he neared the end, his heartbeat quickened once more.

Flipping the second to last card, a grin split Jerome’s face. Glossy and in near-mint condition, the rookie card of none other than Mickey Mantle beamed up with that familiar crooked smile. While lacking the cachet of an original Topps rookie, this Donruss design had to be 30 years old at least. Jerome knew instantly this was destined for his personal collection binder rather than any online marketplace.

He leaned back with a contented sigh, gazing over the spoils of his eight baseball card packs scattered across the tabletop. Among the sea of commons were shining stars both new and old that transported Jerome back to simpler times. Most of all, he savored the thrill of the hunt and nostalgia only this classic hobby could provide. At 30 years old, Jerome’s childhood passion remained as strong as ever. He looked forward to fueling that fire with many more pack-ripping Saturdays to come.