A Trip Down Memory Lane

by Bo Marchionte
@bomarchionte | College2Pro.com
Published August 8, 2026, 7:49 AM

Why Is It Bandaged Up With Tape?

As kids, we’d walk down to the convenience store to buy packs of football cards. No eBay. No online breaks. No idea what was inside until you ripped open the wrapper.

This 1983 Topps Frank Pollard has never looked so gorgeous.

The story might be a bit murky after all these years, but Nick (owner of this beauty today), Burke and I put our trio of savings together that day.

The three of us managed to scrape together 30 cents. Just enough for one pack containing 13 cards, one sticker and a piece of gum that probably had the flexibility of a roofing shingle.

Then we pulled Frank Pollard.

None of us had this particular card. More importantly, none of us could agree on just one of us possessing it.

And remember, this was when running backs ruled football. Franco Harris was nearing the end of his legendary run in Pittsburgh, and No. 44 was emerging as the next man in the Steelers backfield. To three kids opening football cards, Frank Pollard mattered.

In the heat of the moment, I’m sure negotiations began. Other cards were probably offered. Trades proposed. Entire childhood collections may have been placed on the table for sole possession of this Pollard relic.

Nobody budged.

So, without compromise, we arrived at the kind of perfectly logical solution only kids could devise:

We divided it.

Or destroyed it, depending on how you view the matter.

My memory thought the card was cut into three pieces. Each of us walked away owning our portion of Frank Pollard rookie card even though he was drafted in 1980 in the 11th round.

After reconstructive surgery, Pollard was pieced back together. Thankfully Nick decided to preserve Pollard in a high-end protective sleeve. PSA wouldn’t grade it but trust me this is a gem mint 10 of the heart ten times over.

There are Frank Pollard cards sitting in collections today without a crease. Sharp corners. Perfectly centered. Some probably sealed inside slabs with impressive grades attached to them.

I wouldn’t trade this beat-up, sliced-up, taped-together disaster for any of them.

Because we’re not really looking at a 1983 Topps Frank Pollard anymore.

We’re looking at three kids, 30 cents and one afternoon none of us realized we’d still be talking about more than 40 years later.

Luckily, we grew up in the ’80s and didn’t pull a Mickey Mantle rookie and settle the argument the same way.

And somehow, more than four decades later, Nick still has it.