My dad had always loved baseball. He played shortstop in high school and never lost his passion for America’s favorite pastime. But he never made enough money to really indulge in collecting baseball cards like many of his friends. So when he passed away last year, I was surprised to learn that among his few possessions was a sizable collection of vintage baseball cards.

According to the notes he left, the cards had been passed down to him by his eccentric great uncle Fred, who never married or had kids of his own. Uncle Fred traveled the country as a salesman in the 1920s and 30s, and would buy packs of cards wherever he went to remind him of home. Over the decades, the collection grew to thousands of cards spanning the early 20th century.

When dad inherited them in the 1960s, the condition was mixed – some were near mint while others were worn and faded with age. But he was sentimental and couldn’t bear to sell them. He’d sometimes pull them out on summer nights to reminisce with my brother and I about the heroes of antiquity like Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner. Our favorite part was imagining the adventures Uncle Fred must have had acquiring each one.

Now they were mine. I was surprised such an extensive set had been kept mostly intact over 100 years. But I had no idea what to do with a massive old-timey baseball card collection. Most of the players were totally unknown to me and I didn’t have the same nostalgic attachment as my dad. After the sadness of losing him started to fade, I began to think of the cards more as a financial asset.

I consulted with several expert graders and appraisers about the collection. They were stunned by both the size and completeness of the set dating back to the 1880s. Doing the math, they estimated the cards were conservatively worth at least $250,000 if I sold them piecemeal to dedicated collectors.

I debated the ethics of breaking up my dad’s cherished inheritance versus the temptation of a big payday. In the end, pure finances won out – I felt obligated to maximize the value for my own family’s future. I decided to put a small selection of the highest graded gems up for auction, like an 1886 Old Judge Tobacco card that was in pristine condition and a 1909 Honus Wagner that was arguably the finest known copy in the world.

The auction was a smash success. Bidding wars erupted amongst the most well-heeled collectors desperate to own pieces of baseball history. The Old Judge went for a record $2.1 million while the Wagner soared past even the wildest estimates to $5.2 million. The intense publicity also attracted interest in the remainder of the set. I was quickly inundated with offers from private collectors wanting to scoop up full teams or individual star players.

Within a matter of weeks, I had moved virtually the entire collection, netting over $35 million total. It was a staggering and completely unexpected windfall. In the span of just a few months, I went from inheriting a collection of seemingly worthless old trading cards to becoming one of the wealthiest people I knew virtually overnight.

I invested conservatively and have been able to live very comfortably off the investment returns ever since without touching the principal. And while I sometimes miss looking through those cards and learning about the legends of the game, I don’t regret cashing in Uncle Fred and my dad’s accidental treasure for the financial security it provided. Their little piece of baseball history fueled dreams I never imagined and gifts me with peace of mind every day. I only hope wherever they are, they’d feel it was money well spent too.