A visit to Goodwill for most of us might mean rummaging through racks of pre-loved attire, leafing through a worn-out novel, or maybe picking up a quirky mug whose history remains a charming mystery. But for Christopher Kidney of Flemingsburg, Kentucky, his routine foray into the world of secondhand treasures resulted in an unthinkable serendipity that any seasoned collector would envy.
Kidney’s investment was a mere $20, which is ironically about the price of a mediocre mall lunch these days. Yet, his return couldn’t have been more significant or unexpected. This was no ordinary thrift store score—rather, it was a spectacular haul of authentic and autographed baseball memorabilia that were no doubt gathering dust on those Goodwill shelves. Among the alluring jackpot were signed cards from the likes of CC Sabathia, Don Mattingly, and Chuck Knoblauch. To add some spice to his collection, a Super Bowl XLII card inked by Plaxico Burress joined the cast. But the undeniable pièce de résistance was a baseball bearing the signature of Hall of Famer Yogi Berra—a name synonymous with both extraordinary baseball talent and memorable witticisms.
“As I glanced over the names on the cards, the brands just screamed authenticity,” Kidney shared with Newsweek, sounding somewhere between a detective proudly uncovering clues and a child on Christmas morning. His hunch was as clear as the pristine condition of his finds. After validating the authenticity with his trusty network of memorabilia enthusiasts, Kidney managed to sell his delightful collection for a cool $500 in a private sale.
To any collector worth their vintage salt, coming across a Yogi Berra signature among Goodwill remnants is nothing short of extraordinary. Berra, a lauded catcher inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1972, boasts a record 10 World Series titles with the Yankees—a feat that remains enshrined in the annals of baseball lore. The very idea that a ball signed by such an illustrious figure would be lounging around a thrift store shelf is almost too deliciously improbable to fathom. This wasn’t just stumbling upon treasure—it was, quite simply, a collector’s narrative rewriting itself into a modern-day fairy tale.
Kidney, known as a friendly face within Reddit’s lively memorabilia threads, couldn’t keep this windfall to himself. A post with the simple yet telling caption “Incredible, still shaking” sent ripples across the online community, garnering over 1,500 upvotes and prompting a cascade of comments from both envious and congratulatory voices.
One humorously speculative commenter quipped, “Thank goodness your Goodwill doesn’t have an in-store Googler pricing these near eBay comps.” Another chimed in with candid sincerity, “My brother collects and sells sports memorabilia and he says to tell you he is both happy for you and very jealous!”
And if you thought lightning couldn’t strike twice, then Kidney’s case is the one to shatter such assumptions. Not too long ago, he walked out of another Goodwill with an autographed book by none other than baseball titan Honus Wagner, purchased for the paltry sum of $1.59. “For $1.59, I found one of the greatest baseball players’ signatures ever! I’m in shock,” he proclaimed with the kind of enthusiasm typically reserved for winning lottery tickets. To him, it felt like a cosmic nod from his grandfather, a man who worked closely with baseball teams like the Reds and Cardinals, making these discoveries feel even more magical and predestined.
Kidney’s treasure hunt, while financially profitable, was equally about the intangible rewards; sharing his victories with loved ones, especially his supportive wife Ashley and his friends Brad and Christopher Davisson. To Kidney, it’s a tapestry woven with connections, shared passions, and the adrenaline-fueled chase for what’s elusive but always possible.
For ardent thrifters and casual shoppers alike, Kidney’s adventure is a gentle nudge to re-examine the ordinary aisles and unceremonious shelves of thrift havens. Who knows? Among the forgotten cookbooks and mismatched china sets, there might just lie pieces of history—in baseball or otherwise—waiting to be rediscovered, pursued, and cherished all over again.
