AUBURN - Now would not be a good time to warn me of the impending recession, complain about the cost of fuel within a half-mile radius of my ears, or ask me how much I'm being paid to write this.

That's because I just watched a dozen grown men and women, most of whom presumably own cars and aren't living rent-free in their parents' basement, pay $300 for a steak dinner and the privilege of peeling apart a golden wrapper to reveal six baseball cards.

Six, as in Bill Buckner's number. And the guests of honor at Republic Jewelry & Collectibles gave the impression Wednesday night that they would have been tickled pink if the biggest surprise in their loot was an autographed close-up of that grounder passing through Buckner's gimpy wickets.

"I've been to a couple of events before, but nothing where I've spent this much money on a pack of cards," said Scott Seaman of Turner.

The gathering was a nationwide gimmick to promote the Upper Deck trading card company's Exquisite Rookie Signatures Baseball set.

Thirty nostalgia and collectibles stores across the country were given the opportunity to peddle the autographed, limited-edition cards to their customers. For a price.

"They're gamblers," store manager Dan Cunliffe II said of his dinner party. "When we found out we were chosen, we made a list of 14 of our most loyal customers. Twelve of them signed up."

Get lucky, and you could end up with Daisuke Matsuzaka or Phil Hughes' name personally scrawled across the glossy cardboard, or even something as rare and non-sports related as a dual autograph card of Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev or Queen Elizabeth I and King George I.

"How many years ago were they, 600?" Seaman asked nobody in particular about the British royalty. "There's one out there with Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee. Those are going to be big dollars. I don't care who's on it."

"You get something like that," said Tim Bouchard of Auburn, "and it's a down payment on a house."

Get not so lucky, and you could be late with this month's mortgage payment.

Only kidding. But you might be left holding five prospects whose names you can't pronounce, the best among them fated to join "Super" Joe Charboneau and Pat Listach on baseball's roll call of one-hit wonders.

So who spends $300 on a pack of baseball cards, anyway? Oh, merely your friends and neighbors.

"Somebody that likes to gamble," said Bouchard, who confessed that buying sports stock on speculation has been a lifelong habit. "I love collecting cards and selling cards. I started coming to this store back in 1987, so I was 12 years old. I used to get my allowance and spend all my money on packs of cards."

Bouchard and Seaman were the night's winners, on the surface, although touting the value of rookie baseball cards after a player has been in the big leagues for one season is like selecting the matchup for college football's BCS championship game on Labor Day weekend. (Take it from a kid who once broke up a 1983 Donruss complete set to horde a dozen Ron Kittle cards. Small wonder my 401k is a mess.)

Both men walked away with a redemption card for a one-in-a-handful edition Matsuzaka autograph card. They'll have to go through the Upper Deck Web site and claim their prizes through the mail, but neither seemed to mind the lost instant gratification.

"I would have to say since it's Dice-K, five, six or seven hundred dollars," Bouchard said of the card's current value.

But the agony and ecstasy of being a sports memorabilia collector is that it's a poker game that lasts potentially for 20 years. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens have taught us that even a player on the cusp of retirement has ample time to inflate his body and potentially deflate his card value.

Hughes and Chase Wright's cards drew hurrahs from their new owners and good-natured Yankees-flavored harassment from the peanut gallery. Rocky Cherry's picture and name merely evoked snickers.

"Sounds like an ice cream or something," said collector Duane Bonney.

Bonney might get the last laugh. Seven years ago, a football enthusiast could have plucked a certain gangly rookie quarterback's card from a common-player box for mere pennies.

The value of Tom Brady's debut pose was open for some debate among the experts at the table, but all agreed that it's four digits to the left of the decimal point.

If you can find somebody to buy it. Which, now that I've seen what collectors will spend for a blind date with destiny, doesn't seem like such a stretch.

That chance to get in on the ground floor with an unheralded second baseman or win the rarest likeness of Elvis or Princess Diana persuaded Matt Poulin to make a 260-mile round trip from New Hampshire, and lured Lou and Pam Schwicker all the way from Kennebunk.

It's the kind of momentary rush with possible long-term ramifications that could inspire locals to shell out another two or three days' salary if Cunliffe decides to throw a football party next time.

"I wouldn't want to make a habit of it. When you're spending $270 on six cards," said Seaman, presumably subtracting the cost of his meal, "you've got to love it."

Kalle Oakes is a staff writer. His e-mail is koakes@sunjournal.com.

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